expiration date

Another post that I don't feel like adhering to the format I have adopted

Been having a bit of a rough time this week as the 13th of the month rolled up and past.  It was just two months ago when Tommy was told there was no more hope, when we were told he had 90 days at the most left to him.

We've always joked in our family about our expiration dates.  Despite the fact that I decided at a very young age that I would live to be 100, the women in my family haven't made it past 85, men past 72.  

And of course, Grandmom Hughes' saying that "tomorrow is promised to no one" is something none of us ever forgot.  

But to be told what the limit is on your life was frightening.  By helping Tommy process the news, to talk about what comes after on such concrete terms, I thought I was preparing myself for the inevitable as well.  After all, once the colorectal cancer metastasized to his lungs, we knew that cancer had won - he fought it for 3 1/2 years [if it had been lung cancer, the end of the battle would've come much quicker] and we treasured that time with him.  But like sands through the hourglass, that time trickled away - the hours lost in the mundane process of everyday living.  

And Tommy's time ran out after only 13 days.

None of us will be able to face a Friday the 13th again without a pang of sorrow.