The Storm Before the Calm

Another one of my friends has cancer. It pisses me off that at 34 I am watching my third friend under 40 go through this. This newest trooper is just lovely, too. She has a daughter in my daughter's class. She does yoga and drinks tea. She's nice and pretty and kind and deserves something else. Cancer is one of those bastard things that messes with your feelings of comfort in the world. It's easy to say "everything happens for a reason" with the mild crappy things that happen, like losing a job or a boyfriend. It's hard to see the future now, but something better will come along that will make this all make sense.

Nothing makes cancer make sense.

In Judaism you are relieved of your religious obligations during the period of mourning between death and burial. It's almost like God realizes he's kind of screwed you over, so you are given an opt-out so you don't desert your belief systems all together. It's called Aninut-the storm before the calm. The storm is all the anger and sadness, and the calm is acceptance of a greater good. I don't look for calm, really, just a way to understand why these things happen. Because really, there's no reason. There's no justice in cancer or in Huntington's disease or car accidents or losing your parents or your children. It just plain old sucks.

Two years ago a different friend with a daughter in my daughter's class had a double mastectomy and bunches of chemo after a breast cancer diagnosis. I saw her last week with a full head of hair and lipstick and fancy earrings. I hope two years from now I see new friend with a full head of hair and a smile but probably not big earrings and red lipstick. It's just not her way.