Transparent

Transparent.

This morning as Caeden and Claire sleepily asked for their Daddy, I felt it coming.

The lump I get when I know he is somewhere we wish he wasn't.

When Caeden asked if Wayne's cancer bugs were still in his lungs the lump came back.

When I put Claire to sleep this morning and she said, "Night, Night Daddy. Night Night Bunny. Night, Night Daddy???"- as in, where is Dad. I need to snuggle. - The lump returned.

When Caeden asked for donuts this morning (something his Dad indulges and I do not), I put them in the truck and we went to the grocery store. The kids in their pj's and me in sweats and a ponytail. We, of course, ran into Caeden's sweet teacher from last year, and 2 boys that live down the street.

I loaded up a box of donuts (and organic strawberries because I am complicated that way) and we came home. They happily ate donuts while I watched them giggle at each others' chocolate covered faces.

And I felt transparent. Do they notice I am trying extra hard to be fun today? Do they know why?

There is a possibility that Wayne will continue on chemo break. While I hold onto that, it doesn't really make it better because I know his pain comes and goes. And he limps. Break or no, the tumor is still there and it's hard not to think about.


The complete irony is that Wayne is powering through like a rock. He is private and strong and never loses his positive outlook on life. On his circumstances.

So we wait for tests. For results. We wait together but hundreds of miles apart.

Feeling a bit transparent today.