We all have defining moments. Do you think they chart the course of our lives?
There’s something waiting to be unwrapped in all of us.
Credit: Shutterstock
Yesterday, like on most other days, I startled when my alarm went off at 7:00 AM. And like on most other days, I routinely made my way to the bathroom, shuffled into the kitchen, pressed the button on my coffeemaker to brew myself my usual dose of caffeine. Stirred in the half and half. Waddled into my office. Carefully set the steaming hot cup down on my desk, where I checked my emails and scanned the news headlines.
But then, just as suddenly as I’d jumped when my alarm went off, I paused, and my morning’s routines came to a halt. Yesterday was not just like most other days. Yesterday became the day, 26 years ago, which would ultimately define me.
It’s a day that reminds me to mourn. I mourn losing my breast to cancer on December 8, 1988.
I mourn the loss of invincibility (however flawed that notion might be), at a relatively young age. I mourn the grueling chemo sessions and the emotional roller coaster that both my family and I had to endure for many years following, where I feared for my life might end and all the lives of loved ones who also were stricken with cancer.
Cancer has a wide reach and a firm grip, after all, and its anguish stretches far beyond its victims.
But yesterday was also a day that reminds me to celebrate. I know, I know: we should celebrate every day, since we never know what is in store for us. Every day is a gift, right? This is a lesson you (hopefully) learn with so-called age.
Shame on me for not living by those words that I promised myself I would, all those years ago.
Just let me live, and I’ll always be grateful for every day. Just let me be healthy, and I’ll forever be a more compassionate, patient, forgiving, gentle, loving, kind, charitable, courageous, honest and spiritual being.
Does it take cancer – or another equally weighted crisis – to shake up our world?
The physically-flawed John Merrick (The Elephant Man) said that his head was so big because it was filled with dreams. But, he said, “Before I spoke with people, I did not think of all these things, because there was no one to bother to think them for.”
The thing is, now that I reflect on this, before I had cancer, I did not think of all these things because when you’re healthy, life just goes on and on and there’s no reason to think it might not always be that way. Alas, I was all those things before, there was just no reason to think about them.
For me, it took a defining moment: that moment I learned that life is unsure, bodies can betray, unexpected things can happen even though we do everything in our power to avoid them and we ultimately don’t have control.
I suspect we all have those defining moments in us. Some might say, why dwell on those moments; you’re better off forgetting them and leaving them in the past, where they belong.
To those people, I say this: Mourning does not always usher in sadness; many times it unwraps a precious gift.
My defining moment revealed me so completely; more than any others I’ve had. More than that first awkward, tentative kiss or that eagerly-awaited spot of blood that would officially usher in my “womanhood.” More than losing my virginity, leaving home for college, getting married, becoming a mother, losing numerous loved ones, becoming an empty-nester, passing through menopause and understanding that I’m on the other side of young.
Yesterday, I was reminded of all that life is and all that I am.
Breast cancer, or any cancer, or any long term illness is a catastrophe, but when we can find hope within it, it can be a gift…of sorts.
And that goes for any unfortunate experience …it’s here to teach us a lesson, if we listen closely enough.
Congratulations on being cancer free, Sheryl. I completely agree with you about mourning… We are here to feel, to absorb our experiences and connect with ourselves and other people. Thank you for sharing your perspective and experience.
Thanks so much, Elin. Well put.
I wish it did not take a big near miss to shake us up, but I think you are right, it does. I am so glad that you came out with a new resolve and give yourself the permission to mourn!
Yes, Ruth, that’s usually the way, isn’t it? Thanks so much for your insight.
This is beautiful, Sheryl. I do believe we all have defining moments. It just seems to me that the farther we get from that moment, the easier it is to forget the promises we made ourselves at the time. This post is a reminder to remember. Always . Thank you. And hooray for you being cancer free!
Beautifully expressed. Defining moments….they do show us who we are, don’ t they? While it is hard to say I am grateful for my defining moment, the truth is, i learned a lot about myself. And my values. And I did myself proud.
I know you did too! Thanks for sharing such a beautiful part of yourself.
What a beautiful post and great reminder! Enjoy the day and many more blessed with good health and happiness!
Thanks, Irene. I appreciate your good wishes.
OMG, I had chills from reading your words. They are great ones to live by.
Best one yet…WOW, such a beautiful expression of life and its realities.
I thank my lucky stars that you are alive and able to write such a post…
Lou, YOUR words touch me! Thanks for them. Truly.
This is all so important to remember. It’s only when we are not well that we see how precious life really is.
Beautiful, thoughtful post. Another way, I think, to consider these defining moments is that they happen to all of us, eventually. They can be wasted in a storm of self-pity and why-me — or they can be used to squeeze out every bit of meaning and change in your life. You’ve done the latter. Congratulations on another hard-won anniversary.
Thanks, Ruth. True, we can go either way with those moments. I did enter the “why me” zone, but chose not to stay there for too long. Congratulations are in order for you, too. xo
You write so beautifully and clearly. It was a tremendous experience to go throught at a young age. I believe your mourning is quite personal and sharing this not only helps you but others. One of my best friends just finished chemo and will soon begin radiation. It helps me too.
Thanks so much for your comment, Mary-Ellen. It’s heartwarming to thing that by sharing, I can help others – and you, too. That means a lot to me.
Beautiful post. Thank you for sharing. I love that – many times mourning unwraps a precious gift. Yes! Thanks again 🙂
And thanks for reading, Kim!
Definitely a defining moment. Since we’ve had a lot of those in loved ones around us in recent years, amid the heartache, I think I’ve been able to have my moment without it being a health crisis in my own life. Did I just jinx myself? Hope not.
Great post! You’re right. We need to count our blessings.
Beautiful post, Sheryl. You’re absolutely right – every day IS a gift. And I love your note that ‘mourning’ is like unwrapping a precious gift. I think we ‘get’ that more and more as we get older and realize how beautiful life is.
Yes, Jane. As we get older, we’re lucky to realize a lot of important things, don’t you think?