Cancer. And death.

My friend's mom is dying of cancer. At first, when her once-stable leukemia took a turn for the worse it wasn't good, but it didn't have that immediacy of mortality. I have to admit sometimes I rolled my eyes when I got the several-times-weekly health updates - "do I really need to know the details about each and every doctor appointment???"

But in the last few weeks everything has come racing to the end. First hospice care at home, then scares with sudden mental status changes, then continued downhill progression of rapid tumor growth, and progressive weakness. Now it seems the end is within days, or a couple weeks at most.

It has been so hard for me to know what to say or do. I've replied to emails with encouragement and words of prayers, I've left phone messages to say I'm thinking of her and her family - but I don't want to be overbearing or expect return messages when life is so overwhelming right now. It's easy to say "let me know if there's anything I can do" - but it's so rare that people take one up on that offer. Words fail - last email I sent to her sounded like a trite sympathy card phrase - albeit one from the Christian bookstore.

The thing that has been often on my mind through her journey is the knowledge that it will be my journey someday, too. My dad's cancer is stable for now, though it's loomed threateningly from time to time over the past several years, he's still doing well. Eric and I know all too well that one day it will all come crashing down for him, too. And I'll be in my friend's shoes - sending out updates, leaving caring friends wondering exactly how they can support me, stumbling over awkward words.

I am so incredibly grateful for the life my dad has been able to live. He's seen four grandchildren come into this world - including, miraculously, one of my own. Though their marriage is far from perfect, he and my mother have renewed their relationship over the last several years. He grows their garden, makes vacation plans, sings with a choir... all elements of normal life, even with the threat of cancer hanging constantly over his head.

As real as that cancer continues to be, and as fully aware as I am that his health will likely fail sooner rather than later, I still can't imagine facing the end as my friend is now doing. And as inadequately as words can express, my heart goes out to her.