An aquantiance of mine passed away this morning after losing her battle with cancer. Her mother told me over the phone because I was supposed to be meeting up with her to give her the donations the community collected at Oral Fixation. She says to me, after I tell her that I’ll bring it Saturday, “At that point all that I can do with it is get flowers or something.” And of course I say the stupid shit that people say “I’m sorry for your loss.” Like my apologies or money  for flowers will make up for the fact that tomorrow is Christmas and she has to prepare to bury her child. Like my apologies can make up for the fact that her grandson is now without a mother. 

That’s the part that gets me. The reason I just walked back out of work and sat down in my car; her son. I bonded with Shawna over that fact that we were both raising preteen boys. I admired the strength with which she excelled at this. Something so many people seem to struggle with, raising boys, black boys, in today’s climate. I admired her and I wanted to be more like her. Now I think of how quickly something can come in and turn your entire world upside down. I think of all of the many children who would give back all of the gifts in the world to have five more minutes with their mothers. And I weep. Knowing that my tears mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. 

I’m angry. At cancer. At the thing that keeps taking loved ones as if it will never get its fill and I say Fuck Cancer, knowing that that too means nothing.