"Peace, peace, to those far and near," says the Lord. "And I will heal them." Isaiah 57:19

April 9, 2012 Can you believe it? Tomorrow will mark one week since my surgery I am feeling so much better. I didn’t think I would feel this good ever again. My doctor will be taking the stitches out on April 11, 2012. Then, I wait to get the results of the lymph nodes taken out on April 25, 2012. WhooHoo No matter what the results, I am still a happy person. I was able to get my house in order, take care of my babies care in the future, and reconnect with my family. I am one of the lucky ones. Some people don’t have the time to do anything between their diagnosis, illness, and death. Like my mom. She died pretty quickly. Pancreatic cancer is a fast killer. I learned how to be strong in the wake of my own diagnosis from her. She was in a great deal of pain, yet I never heard her complain, ask why me, or curse the Lord. She never became angry or took it our on anyone. She was brave and strong. Her faith in the Lord was just as strong. I cannot wait until the say she and I are reunited in heaven. I love her dearly and miss her a great deal. My mom was born in a small town in Pennsylvania in 1917. She was one of 10 children. She attended a Catholic school with her sisters and brothers. Her memories of growing up were fond, funny memories. Her family was close growing up. She was especially close to her sisters. She was always happy around them. I look at pictures of she and her sisters, and they are always smiling, laughing, happy. Before she, my dad, and my brothers moved to Maryland (they moved because of my father’s work), her family provided her with a support system, just being around her. When she moved away from them, she had no one to tell her that despite the problems in our family, she was OK. She would get through it. Mom was very rarely happy in her marriage. I believe my brothers and I brought her happiness but not her husband. Looking back, I wish she could have stayed in Pennsylvania with her family. Maybe our lives would have been different if my father knew her family was not going to let him mistreat her. He too, might have been happy if he could have stayed close to his family in Pennsylvania. My brother was nine years old when we moved to Maryland. He remembered what it was like to grow up in a small town surrounded by family. He was a computer analyst. He moved his family to a small town in Oklahoma when he took a job with an oil company in the late seventies. He felt safer in a small town and wanted his sons to experience what he did when he was growing up. His neighbors seem more trusting, more friendly, not pretentious. He liked that. David, our brother, was content to stay in Maryland. I moved to Texas. I have lived here for 37 years. In 1979, I returned briefly to the east coast to live in New York. I was awarded a fellowship at a school for the deaf in Queens. Arriving on February 18, 1979, the change of weather was one the first obstacle tp overcome. Living in Texas, the pace of life was considerable slower than New York. Travel was restricted to the city buses or subway system. In Texas, I had my own car. My apartment in Queens was tiny compared to the 2,000 square foot home I had in the country in Texas. I wasn’t use to so many people, cars, neighborhoods, stores, or factories. I was excited to be in New York but I longed for my home in Texas. The good thing was that I was closer to my mother and family in Pennsylvania. My maternal grandmother died while I was living in New York. She died in March 1979. I attended the funeral and was glad I was so close to be able to be with my mother at the time of her mother’s death. I returned early from New York, leaving the fellowship one month before it was suppose to end. My mother believed that I would move from New York back to Maryland but I had my furniture sent to Texas. I spent 3 days in Maryland with her before flying back to Texas. I know she was disappointed but I had to return to my home. I felt a quiet desperation to be there despite having no job. I did have a place to stay. A friend of mine found an apartment for me, paid the deposit and first month’s rent. I was so happy to be back. I felt God wanted me to live in Texas. Here is where I found independence and a place to grow personally and professionally. I returned in April 1979 just in time to celebrate Fiesta in San Antonio. Fiesta is a big street party held every April. The whole city celebrates. People plan their vacation time just to attend. There is a carnival, parties, dancing in the streets, music, and food, food, food. I attend every year. This April I will not be going to Fiesta in San Antonio. My energy level will not allow me to the 2 hours from Austin to San Antonio. There will be a lot of walking from one event to another. The hear will be another factor. I’m just happy to be alive. Maybe next year. One more day until the stitches come out.