I hear this beep. Randomly throughout the day. I know it comes from a watch, but have no idea where that watch is. I think I get close to where the sound is but then….silence. It’s gone again. I forget about it and go about my busy life until the next moment when that beep goes off again. After hearing this beep for over a year, you would think I would have it down to a science…where the beep comes from, what time (down to the minute )it will beep, etc. But for some reason, that beep is inconsistent and feels like it’s all over the place. A woman could go mad.

Recently though, I have found myself looking forward to that beep. It’s almost like a treasure hunt as to when and where it will be. My detective skills aren’t great, but what I do know is that the beep is from dad’s old watch. He gave my kids a couple of them when his wristband broke. It then fits a child rather than a grown man. This beep has now almost become a moment of connection with my dad. Is he talking to me? Is he reminding me that he is with me? Is he telling me “YES you should do that!!!”  Whatever it is, even if some of you believe it is nothing, I look forward to that beep.

This is the time of year those little beeps in life mean so much to me. The weather starts to chill, we all say goodbye to summer and all its excitement and we transition into a more uniformed lifestyle. Both have their perks but for me fall is hard. When you lose someone, you relive those last moments over and over and when the season changes and that time of year rolls around, you can almost expect that those emotions of how you felt the weeks, days, or moments of their death will appear in your mind like a silent movie that keeps rolling over and over and over. For me that is Fall. 

My dad died in the fall. His favorite season. It was beautiful. I know people don’t say that much, but it was beautiful to be there by his side, at the end. As the season changes to fall, I feel him so much. I can picture his hands, I can smell his shirt as I would hug him… a bit of oil or gasoline from equipment and outdoor everything, mixed with classic cotton. I close my eyes and take a breath hoping the scent is still there. During this time I take everything I hear, do, and experience as a sign from him to live my life.  “Do the big things, embrace the scary, and stand up for what’s right. “ I feel like that is what he is telling me. 

Today was a big day for me. A big opportunity came to me. The entire time that I was experiencing it I felt my dad orchestrating it all. He always believed in me. He believed in all of my sisters and my mom. He was good at telling us that. So, tonight when I was putting Edwin to bed I was reflecting on that experience that I had earlier. I thought “I wish I could call dad and tell him all about today. He would have loved it.” The exact moment that I thought it, Edwin said to me, “mommy with you pray that Mary prayer. Just keep saying it over and over.” As he said that, I started praying the Hail Mary and as I did just like that I was brought back to the moments of my dads death, as we sat around him praying the Rosary. The “Mary” prayer , over and over. And just like that, I knew my dad was with me today and saw my big moment. That movie that plays in my head is a movie that I may watch on repeat, but it keeps me close to him. And, that it is good. 

You will never believe this. As I finished that last sentence, the watch beeped. He is with me. He makes sure to tell me.

I was pulling a little red wagon with my little curly blonde in it today. Following around, in front of, and zig zagging all around me were my other two. These boys… full of energy, excitement, and in constant motion. This is something that I have not felt in a long time. 

It has been just over 2 months since I finished my chemo pill (last step in this journey we continually pray). Just two months of freedom from heavy doses of medicine flowing through my body. Just two months of freedom in the past 3.5 years for my body to slowly bounce back and rejuvenate. I have wishfully been hoping that my body and mind would bounce back to my 36 year old self. The way I was before my diagnosis, however those years are gone, stolen away by cancer and the fog that I lived in, leaving me 40. A bit wiser, but a lot less energized. A bit sad on days but, then grateful.  A different body and a different mind.  Both good and bad. Things are just going to be different….including today….

Today, for the first time in 3.5 years I had a moment where I actually was able to recognize that I wasn’t worn out and run down! This sounds minimal to most, however today I pulled that little red wagon and walked my three boys to soccer camp, both ways. For the first time, I didn’t think,” I am so worn out.” I didn’t think, “I can’t wait to get home and rest.” I didn’t think about anything except, “Look at those beautiful flowers,” “What great weather it is,” and “Oh my goodness we are here already!”  You see for someone who is or has gone through cancer, while treatment may be finished, your body has been wiped out. Scrapped of all its energy leaving you feeling like a shell of a person. Going through emotions, routine, and dialogue. Everyone around you has moved on and yet you are trying to keep up to the rotating world around you. It hasn’t stopped. But, those of us whose body has been on the battlefield. We stopped. We stopped  because we were too tired to keep up.

Today I kept up. Today I felt so thankful that a part of me returned to me. I greeted that energy with a joyful smile and wanted to write about it. For tomorrow, my energy may slip away again. I needed to remind myself it will come back to me, like my old friend that once brought me so much joy. 

I also wanted to write down a little note to all those fighting or have finished fighting. It’s OK to be tired. Do not feel like you need to keep up and even more importantly do not let anyone make you feel bad about taking that extra nap, or sitting a bit longer, the laundry can wait. Your body needs you now. It needs you to rest so that one day you can pull that little red wagon and smile.  Isn’t that what life’s all about?  You’ve got this. 

Oh it feels so good to write again and even more to think of my marigold. My Marigold is being able to recognize and APPRECIATE my energy today. I am not letting this slip by without acknowledgement. I am so thankful that I had this moment with my boys and that my mind allowed me to see and recognize this success. Get out there and appreciate your day. Fill your little red wagon with blessings. In fact let that wagon overflow. 

It’s been a while since I’ve written last. Marigolds have grown and marigolds have wilted away. And here we are still moving. I have had so much on my mind lately about grief, loss, heart ache. None of which are a conversation people know how to deal with, ask about, or even want to participate in. Those things however, are things we need to talk about the most. Or at least just have someone listen. So, I guess here I am talking and you are listening. 

It’s been just over a year since my dad died. I hate saying that word..died. It’s good for me to say it out loud.I replay moments with him, past memories, holding his hand, the last few hours. These memories roll in my head like an old film projector.  Click and a new memory appears, and as real as it was the moment it happened. The film never runs out.  Every single day I thank him for being my dad and giving me so much love and life. Every single day I miss him and have to remind myself he is gone. How can it still feel so foreign after a year? I suppose it always will.  I have known him my whole entire life. There really isn’t much that can console you when you have had someone in your life that saved you in so many ways. My dad has done just that.  He saved me from feeling bad for myself when I was young and didn’t fit in with friend groups. He saved me from conforming into peer pressure and instead encouraged me to be unique and different. He saved me too many times from running out of gas and other car problems. 😉 He saved me from having too much fun out with friends. He saved me by instilling faith, love, hope, and kindness into me. That man has saved me. 

Since my dad has been gone, he continues to save me. He told me he was taking the cancer with him when he passed and that I wouldn’t have to worry about it again. While at the time I smiled at him and said you don’t need to do that. He said, “yes I do.”…. He saved me.

It was about 4 months after my dad had passed that I had my routine oncology visit. I went in, did the blood work, had an exam etc. All was fine. Before I left this time however, my oncologist said to me there is a brand new drug out that was just passed to begin to break down the Brca2 Gene. This would allow prevention for my cancer to come back in the future. I say my cancer because it was so specific. It was for women who had triple negative breast cancer (Check), who had the Brca gene ( check), and who were two years or less out of treatment ( check)! Wow, how could this be so specific to what I needed?…Something that could give me extra insurance that I would stay around for a long time for my sweet babies?  How you ask? One word…DAD. He told me he was going to take the cancer and once again, just like that, he saved me. 

So, what does this mean? I have been on this chemo pill (Lynparza) since last May. I will be on it for an entire year. I’m on the home stretch! I go in monthly for blood work and all looks good. Mild side effects just like a normal chemo pill would give, but I have a different mind set. I know this one is breaking down that gene giving it a more difficult time to recreate cancer in me. Man, my dad is good. He is always taking care of me. Even when I can’t see him, I know he is here.

I am excited to write about this new pill. Please spread the word since it’s so new. If you know of other women who have the Brca mutation or who have had breast cancer, encourage them to advocate for themselves and ask about it! It’s new and not everyone is talking about it yet! Let’s start talking and start saving lives!

Wouldn’t it be cool if my dad started a chain reaction of saving peoples lives. He was too humbled to think he could do that, but I know, he was that special that he could. 

My Marigold: the opportunity  to live, to love, to fight for my health, and to hopefully save someone else. But most importantly, to have been blessed with a dad who will always save me.

Hey, by the way….thanks for listening.

Today was one of those days that you don’t plan to have be an emotional meltdown, but somehow you find yourself a hot mess. If you have been following my Marigolds you know this journey I have been on has been far from exciting, pleasant, or enjoyable, BUT I am really trying to keep my marigolds going. 

So back to today….

This past week I had a small procedure done in my uterus. They had to put me under, do a D&C, and then they had to (the word I hate the most) do a biopsy. Yes, you read that right. The good news, to spare you any worry, my pathology report came back benign. Deep breaths. We are still cancer free. I have had some minor recovery since the surgery, but nothing I can’t handle. You would think this is where I lost my emotional stableness, but no, I handled this with grace and worry free. 

I continued on my days with laughter and time with my husband, kids, and mom. Wow, what a help she was. Life was seemingly as steady as it could be. I mean, let’s be honest we are dealing with a lot. Anyway, today was the day I lost it…All. Day. Long. 

I had an appointment with my dermatologist. I have to go every 6 months because, you guessed it, the Brca2 gene also can produce skin cancer. So for the past 8 years I have been going every 6 months. Spots get removed, others are fine, it’s the same thing every time. Never am I worried because I know I am being proactive and in good hands. I felt the same way going into the appointment today as well. Except for some reason today there was a spot on my face they were concerned about and had to remove. And yes, they said the word biopsy. They were going to take a biopsy. I assure you, this is nothing to me, it will probably all turn out fine, but today was the day I lost it. In this little clinical room, with the SWEETEST doctors, I cried.  Not just cried, but my chin was quivering cry.  They said, “Honey, are you in pain? Are you ok?”  To which I started bawling saying, “NO I AM NOT OK!” I proceeded to cry and tell them they were great because I didn’t want them to feel bad.  However,  while doing this, I told them “this is all too much. I am having PTSD from my cancer and can’t hear that word biopsy any more. ” They were amazing. So kind. But, I didn’t stop there. I then continued crying and saying “And my dad just died, from… you guessed it cancer! I am so sad, so broken, and I HATE CANCER!”

After calming down a bit, I thanked them for being so wonderful, apologized for being so emotional, and then watched them take my samples for yes….another biopsy.

It will be fine, but dammit, it has been too much. 

After this I got myself a coffee, picked up my boys, and spent the day with my mom. There and only there do I feel like I am most understood. I can feel her pain and she feels mine. We had a great day, but darn it, then I saw my dad’s puffy vest. The vest he wore when he came into my house to comfort me the day I first was diagnosed with cancer. The vest that he wore to my son’s BMX biking race. The vest that he would snuggle me in when I would throw my arms around his belly and hug him. This vest. It got me. 

I have been crying on and off most of the day. I know this is common when dealing with loss, heartache, trauma. I am proud of my tears. It reminds me how hard I fought and how hard I loved. This is good. 

So, as I got home I was alerted to an amazon package that was delivered. I opened it up and it was a canvas that I felt drawn to a while ago. I had forgotten I ordered it. It said,

“They whispered to her, You cannot withstand the storm.” 

“I am the storm she whispered back”

This is me now. My life has been a storm. My whole family’s life has been a storm. But no more. We got this. 

My Marigold, is that saying, quote, scripture, or words that come right when you need it most. To remind you who you are and what you stand for. Was it a coincidence it came today? No, that’s my dad. He talks to me in different ways now. So I make sure I am always listening.

Like everybody, some nights are great highs, some lows, and the rest are simply enjoyable. The kind that makes you feel peaceful, confident, and comfortable. Those are the good ones. Nothing can really shake you. No memory, no words, no drama can set you into an emotional spin, whether it is a high or a low. 

Tonight was a hard for me. When you grieve a loved one, it sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Completely, when you thought you had all your ducks in a row and you are “quote on quote” doing great! I was proud of my progress and then like a deer in headlights the memories, the visions, the smell of my dad came flooding back to me. It left me trying to catch my breath and asking myself again, did this really just happen?   There is no amount of time that can heal this hurt. 

However, tonight amongst my sorrow, I was thinking about my mom. If you don’t know her, you are missing out. She is the strongest, hardest working, most natural caregiver, and selfless person you will ever know. No wonder my dad was head over heels for her.  She is brave, kind, loyal, and honest. Just what you want in a mother, even when honesty hurts at times, you learn and you become better. She is so many things, but what I have learned most about this beautiful person is her adoration for my dad and the strength she has. She is surrounded by his memory every day and within that, she hurts and is in pain, but still manages to take care of the rest of us. How did we get so lucky to have two such amazing parents? 

I watch her suffer and then pull herself together, all within seconds. She is a pillar of strength. But as her daughters, we can see all she is going through and I just want her to know how proud we are of her. She does not need to be strong for us, we are here always, and will always be there.  I want to be strong for her. 

To experience the loss of a companion, soul mate, love of a life, husband, is incomprehensible, until it happens. I thankfully do not understand yet, but by her love and relationship she has had with my dad I can feel her pain and passion. Oh how I  wish I could take it away from her. There is no heartache like love. 

Mom, the good news is, we are here to hold you up, put your Christmas lights on a timer, take your shovels down from the rafters, mow your lawn, and be your companions. The bad news is, we can’t be dad. But we can live with dad in us and let him resinate out of our souls for everyone to feel his warmth. This I vow to do continually for you. Dad is always with us. And the days we need a little more comfort, we have each other.

Marigolds are getting grim this cold season, but the one I can make out is the relationship between a mother and her daughters. We are yours and you are ours. Together we will stand.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and added my dad’s creamer. That’s how little it has been since we lost him, he still has creamer in the fridge. Towards the end of his days he would love his squirrel mug filled with vanilla creamer and hot coffee. I had the luxury of pouring his coffee many days. I wish I still was. My mom gave me the extra large creamer after my dad passed. She bought it extra big, because we didn’t know when he would be called to heaven, but he was….before his creamer was gone. Now I sip my coffee and creamer and I wish I was sitting next to him with my 2 year old running around him yelling Bompa. One doesn’t really know how to let go of someone they love so dearly. It is the most unnatural, heartbreaking thing. For some reason this silly creamer is making me feel he is still here. What is going to happen when it’s gone? Will he really be gone? We hold onto the tangible things because we once held on to him. I spent so many days hugging him, snuggling with him, holding his hand, and kissing his cheek. I need something to hold on to now. So now, I am gripping my warm coffee mug and wishing I was holding his hand. 

His hands were the most beautiful thing. They once held me when I was little and too tired to walk to bed. They played frisbee with me in the backyard, they told me animated stories that made me feel like I was there, and they prayed with me when I was sick and hopeless. I then got my turn to take care of him and I held his hand as he finished his time on earth. His hands have been a part of my life and now I miss them .

To say it has been a rough two years is an understatement. Today I surrender.  While I physically and mentally went through the biggest battle of my life, it was nothing compared to the heartache I feel for the loss of my dad. Cancer got us again. This time it could not be stopped. It took a man that made the world feel welcomed by his genuine smile and gracious heart. We will never be the same. 

I wake up quite often thinking to myself, did this really just happen? Between fighting in my own war against a very aggressive cancer and then fighting for my dad, I am in a fog of reality or nightmare?  There is very little time throughout the day where I don’t think of my dad, or fearfully worry about my own health. Cancer is no joke. Cancer had changed me and my family forever. 

So yes, I surrender. I no longer have control over what happens next. I no longer can fix and change things. Cancer has its own plan and I am merely a victim of it.   So where do we go from here?  Believe me, I am searching for the marigolds on this gray, cold day. And, I know I will find them. But, it is going to take a bit more searching this time around. A person can only get hit so many times before we stay down for a little while. But, I promise, I will get up.  While cancer has hurt me so many times, I would say the past two years of being sick got me so much closer to my dad. He was able to take care of me again, he would pray with me, hold me, and share his wisdom with me. I believe that is my marigold.  Two unpleasant, difficult, scary years that gave me a deerper closeness to my dad in his last two years. Well, there you go, I did find a marigold amongst the weeds. And it’s still blooming.

My white flag is waving as I sit here with my coffee looking at a photo of my amazing father. I can’t wait until I can see him again. But today I sip, breath, pray and close my eyes and remember my dad. I surrender to the darkness and know that God has a plan to get us through.

It’s official! I am completely done with treatment. Let the CELEBRATIONS begin! I finished my last cycle of Chemo pills a few weeks ago and each day I’m gaining my energy back. This past year was nothing short of a miracle. Treatment worked completely as planned, even with all my doubts and fears and all the ‘what ifs’ that go along with cancer. You all are a big part of my recovery. Your support got me through.

I have been thinking so much about those whose treatment didn’t go as planned, whose treatment didn’t take, whose body no longer can fight. Why did I get to walk through my cancer road map and end up free of cancer? Don’t get me wrong…it was the hardest walk I have taken, even as I continue to walk this bumpy path.  But I just feel so lucky and so bad at the same time. I guess this is what they call survivor’s guilt. My heart goes out to all the families whose journey didn’t end the same as mine. There is never an easy way to say it. But, please know I have the greatest sympathy and pain for you. All the while praying for peace for you. 

 You really never know what is in store for you. What lies ahead ready and waiting for you to say yes and follow its path. Well, I am here and I am here to say yes to the opportunities that cross my path. There is a reason I am still here and I plan to live it. 

I remember when I was first diagnosed I couldn’t be alone. The minute it was quiet and I had time to think, I would cry. I couldn’t hold it together for my kids. My family would take turns being with me. Helping me get through the day…doing things that I once could handle.  I grew stronger. I grew calmer, letting the waves of information wash over me instead of drown me. These little things stick with me post cancer.  Little things that I have kept, little things that are a gift.  The little things: there are nights I lay with my boys and lay there extra long. I pray in my head and let those prayers flow over my boys imagining that they are getting some sort of osmosis with my prayers. I didn’t used to take the extra time to lay just a bit longer…now I do. I find myself completely engaged with others when they speak or are present in front me. I often find myself making a mental note of their face, their words, their expressions, so I never forget them, or so I can take it with me. I also find myself taking deep breaths and working through things that once used to bother me or get me upset.  Everything can be fixed in some way or another.  These little things are a gift.  A gift from having cancer.  Whomever thought I would say that?

So while cancer has brought me and so many others pain and sorrow. Know that it has also brought gifts. Gifts of time, appreciation, patience, and even peace. 

My Marigold is fighting and winning. Being done with treatment and acknowledging the gifts I have been given.

The other day I gave my son my old planner to play with. He enjoys flipping through the tabs and writing things in the empty boxes. I sat there with him for a while as he flipped to November of 2019. Sure enough, written on November 27th was BIOPSY. The memories came flooding back in. He then flipped to January of 2020 and on each Friday had my chemo time and who was coming with to visit as I sat there for hours. That was definitely one perk; I got to see some of my favorite people every week. Not the visit I would have planned, but nonetheless, time with those I love.  It’s a hard thing to move past…cancer. You never fully allow it to leave your mind in fear that if you forget about it for one second it will rear its ugly head again. So, I don’t, I can’t. It is now a part of me. 

As we wrap up the Christmas season, I can’t help but think about how this grand holiday is all because of this sweet baby boy that comes to our world. That led me to think of his mother Mary. To her, Jesus was her baby, her sweet child whom she had been waiting for. Waiting to feed, cuddle, and sooth when he was crying. He was just her baby. I began to feel for her when thinking about how she knew the world was waiting for him. That he, to her, was her infant but to the world, a king. She knew he would have to leave her side and sacrifice himself for the greater good. The pain that mother must have felt is unbearable. One moment rejoicing in the gift of a baby, the next fearing what he was about to undergo. 

As I reflected on Mary as a mother, I couldn’t help but think, this is how my own mom felt when she heard the news that her baby had stage 3 breast cancer. To her, I was her baby and she knew the pain I was about to endure. I am so blessed that throughout this past year, she stayed strong for me. She comforted me, held me, supported me, and loved me. She was/is my cheerleader. I couldn’t have asked for a greater mom.

I am almost done with my treatment! The chemo pill has been very manageable and I am just moving through the cycles. I have 2 weeks left and then I am done with treatment. From there I will have a hysterectomy surgery, this is due to the Brca II gene. It can cause ovarian cancer too. Since I am susceptible to that cancer, we are doing preventive surgery. I will also have one more minor surgery to fix some changes from my double mastectomy. Soon, I can put all this behind me. 

Once my chemo pill is complete, they will move me to what they call surveillance appointments. Because the truth is, while I am cancer free now, there is still a percentage of recurrence. So, they are keeping a close eye on me. Another change is that I am also going back to work mid January! I am looking forward to starting my life up again, however as you can imagine, I am sad to leave my own baby! It has been quite a year for our whole family and being together just feels so right. 

I am still seeing the marigolds and I hope you are finding some too. My marigold this week is my mom. She has been through so much with my family and through it all she remains strong, loving, and so very present in our lives. I am so thankful for her and all the extra time I have had with her this year. Keep seeing the marigolds. It’s a new year full of new possibilities. And NOTHING is impossible. 

It has been a year to date since I found out I had Stage 3C breast cancer. The day I went in to get my biopsy I was confident it was nothing. I remember sending my sister a picture of me on the hospital bed making a silly face (see below). I was convinced this was just going to be a routine biopsy and the news would come that all was ok. The days after the biopsy went slowly as I waited for the call… rushing to my phone every time it rang.

There are certain memories engraved in my head now as I recall this day. I remember it was the Monday after Thanksgiving. I still hadn’t heard the results of my biopsy and was patiently waiting. At this time, I still felt confident it was all going to be ok. As I was waiting that morning, keeping busy with my new baby, my dad showed up at the house. I wasn’t expecting him, but I knew he came up to be here for the results. He waited awhile, knowing that I shouldn’t be alone when the call came in. He is always there to take care of me.  The call didn’t come.  So we waited some more.

Finally, after I had both of my boys down for their nap, my doctor called. There it was, the news that shook my soul and the souls of my family. I was heartbroken. 

From that day forward I was nothing short of depressed, I remember sitting on my steps crying on the phone to my mom that I was so scared and that I didn’t want to die. I have never been so scared. Her voice on the other line simply and fearfully said, “You are NOT going to die.” She assured me I wouldn’t, but really neither of us knew the outcome of this road that I was about to embark on.  

For the next few days after that, my family took turns being with me. I couldn’t be alone; I couldn’t stop crying. And I was trying really hard not to show my three sweet boys that anything was wrong. I HAD TO BE STRONG, even though I had never felt so weak. I would describe the feeling like being in a deep dark hole and even though I was too weak, the only way out was to climb out. I had to go through treatments. It was the only way out. 

After the tears and shock of the news, I started growing stronger. I have said it before and I will say it again, your prayers had finally reached me, like a wave over my body. Now it was time to fight, be strong, and stay positive. We called around finding the best doctors and referrals, making sure to get the best care. Then it was time to start the journey.

It’s been a year, and while my hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes have grown back, my body and soul look different. I have experienced suffering, I have felt complete struggle, but most importantly, I have experienced true hope and true love.  A year ago I was afraid of being a tragic love story, but now I am cancer free and ready to take back my life. I still have a little way to go, two more surgeries and finish the chemo pill. But I can see the finish line. Most importantly I have a healthy body. Free of cancer and free of fear. 

My marigold is simple, I made it through this year. I did it! I am so thankful to have had extra time with family, friends, and my sweet baby. I am so thankful to have had another year with the ones I love. From here on out, I will embrace what comes my way. Say yes doing things that make me happy, to sit back to observe, and to embrace the moments in front of me. My journey has given me so much insight on life. I hope to always keep that insight and to spread the positivity.