December 11th

I remember one time
Danielle’s Oncologist
Kept us waiting in the examination room so long,
we thought we’d lose our minds and crawl up the walls.
We thought about ghosting,
Wondered if she had ghosted us,

So I did silly impressions until she laughed so hard
that her biopsy incisions ached.

And she sang flip songs until I laughed so hard my
heart ached over from how much I loved her and
how little I could do to help her.

Over how much I wanted to save and spare her, but couldn’t.

I’m not sure what Love is other than Jesus Christ,
Crucified For People Who Hate Him.

Maybe it’s your heart beating outside your body in another’s chest.
But there’s a baseball-sized tumor pressing hard.

Maybe it’s holding her hand, wiping her tears and
just staying,

Come Hell or high water,
Because there are no bad guys to kill,
Just cruel fate to endure.

I adore Jesus, my King, my Savior, my Lord, my Friend . . .

I envy Him.

For when He wanted to save the people He Loved, 

He was able to do something. He was able to trade Himself,

But I was

Forced to watch
Cruel Death
Take and take and take.

The coldest fire burning forever in my gut ‘til
Resurrection Day
Will always be that I couldn’t save her. 

It only hurts when I think about it.

But on that day we laughed until it hurt.
We Loved until it hurt.

And the Doc finally arrived, apologizing: relieved to find us in such merry spirits.