“When I first lost Mike, all I could see was the darkness. The years ahead stretched before me like a barren wasteland. I couldn’t imagine then the blessings that would come from the grief.”
“Same. I wouldn’t wish Nat and the girls gone for anything, but I’ve been surprised to find that the journey from loss hasn’t been all bleak terribleness. There’s also been startling joy and new love and incredible friends who’ve held me up during the tough times and made me laugh during the good times.”
“Life goes on.”
“I’m very thankful my new life includes you,” he says, leaning in to kiss me.
“Same.” I wrap my hand around his. “When are you officially moving in?”
“That’s up to you.”
“Today would be good.”
“Then today it is.”
Today ismy last day of radiation and hopefully my last day ever of treatment for any kind of breast cancer. Radiation has sucked every bit as badly as I was told it would. I have seeping blisters on heat-ravaged skin. Gage and I have jokingly equated my radiated breast to boiled chicken. If you don’t laugh, you cry. So, we’ve done a lot of laughing.
He’s waiting for me when I come out of the treatment area, bearing my certificate of completion. “Let me see.”
I hand him the certificate.
“We’re gonna frame that bad boy.”
“I’d rather burn it and never think of it again.”
“That works, too.”
After I say goodbye and good luck to the people I’ve seen here every day for the last five weeks, Gage puts his arm around me and leads me out of there for the last time.
“Thank you, Jesus,” I say when we step into the cold winter air. “Me and my boiled chicken have had more than enough of that place.”
Gage holds the door to the passenger side of his SUV for me and leans in to carefully buckle me.
Seat belts have been a problem for my sore breast lately.
Then he kisses me. “This is a full-fledged kidnapping, my love.”
“What is?”
“The rest of today, tonight and all day tomorrow until kid-pickup time.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. It’s all arranged. Your parents are staying at the house tonight while we celebrate the end of treatment and the first day of the rest of our lives.”
I respond with a giddy laugh. “Have I told you yet today that you are the awesomest?”
“I don’t think you have.”
“Well, you are, and I love you so, so much.”
“I love you, too.”
“I don’t have any clothes!”
“I packed for you.”
I shoot him a skeptical look. “You packed for me?”