Making memories.

I haven't blogged in quite a while. I'm still trying to process everything that has happened in the last month. We got good news that only two of the tumors on Murray's brain remained, then only one. Things started to look up! We had hope. Then it all came crashing down. The remaining tumor is in a critical spot and needs to be treated right away. Okay, we can deal with that. Treat it.

Then two more tumors were found, on his spine. The cancer is spreading. Chemo isn't working, radiation isn't working. Then the worst thing that no one ever wants to hear is said: "There is nothing more we can do."

Reality slowly starts setting in. Odds are my nephew will never get to meet the man he is named after. My children probably won't have any memories with their "papa Murray".  We are told he has 1 week to 2 months to live and people don't know what to say. Too often they say the wrong things. Some say, "look on the bright side", but there is no bright side. Others say, "at least you get the chance to take pictures, say good bye, make memories" but I don't want to say good bye. Memories? Yeah, we get to make memories but I want to continue making those memories. I want him to see my children graduate from high school! Hell I will settle for him watching them graduating from kindergarten. I want him to be there. Pictures? I get to take a ton, even more now than I ever cared to take in the past. But he's changing. Some of the changes break my heart to see in photographs. Him going from the man he once was to the man cancer is turning him into. Watching him deteriorate before my eyes. It hurts.

I know I'm selfish to only being seeing the bad, to be angry at God for taking him from us "too soon". I'm selfish for wanting him to keep fighting and not give up even though medically, everything that can be done, has been done. I don't care though. I don't care if wanting him here makes me selfish. I'm selfish. But only because I love him, I don't want to watch him suffer anymore, I don't want to watch my aunts heart break over and over, I want my kids to know him.

He has 1 week to 2 months left to live, he is DNR, and there is nothing more they can do for him. I wake up every day dreading that I am going to receive that phone call... The one I don't want to answer because I don't want to hear those words. I'm not ready to let go, no one is.

So we visit, we take pictures, we laugh, we cry... We make memories. Because that is what he deserves. His family laughing, crying, spending as much time with him as possible. Making memories, because that is how we will keep him alive.