Down the path of re-discovering myself as a lost 20-something-year-old, I met Reginald. A quiet, good-looking man who made me smile as I strolled through my journey. Within months, our blossoming friendship became an invitation to God’s love. Our spirits became one. It was joyful. It felt so peaceful to have someone who wasn’t afraid to love me for who I am. To love me completely. Simply, his gentle love crushed the gray clouds that surrounded me.
After his sudden discovery of a brain tumor and diagnosis of a rare brain cancer, my heart was yanked out of my chest and my faith ran away. Throughout my relationship with Reginald and encounter with his cancer, I had to rediscover my faith. Not only in love, but in the existence of life. And to this day, as husband and wife, we are still fighting and beating cancer. Together. We can confirm that God is God and will always be in control, no matter how detrimental the condition may be formulated by the doctors. If there aren’t any cures, how could anyone be so positive and strong-minded in the fight against the disease? It inevitably seems like the person’s recovery and fate nestle inside the doctor’s hands? But it’s not. And God is still pounding His fists for Reginald.
When my husband was fighting brain cancer and going through the pains of chemotherapy, I, personally, didn’t know what to do. Do I look at him as if he will die tomorrow? Or do I look at him as if he is the strongest man alive? Reginald came into my life so unexpectedly. Inevitably, as our friendship bloomed, petals of romance budded. Reggie was determined to steal my heart. In return, I was afraid to love him. Then that day came. That day I received that dreadful call from his older brother. That day where I found my new handsome friend lying in the hospital bed. Waiting for open brain surgery for the removal of a massive brain tumor – even the doctors were shocked. He was still smiling, but his eyes were SCREAMING with fear.
During his 5 (what seems like 2 days) hour surgery, I could NOT stop crying. I would NOT. I was dizzy from all the anguish. My guts were bubbling from despair. I was dying from distress. I just wanted to hold his hand. Every… single…dreadful thought penetrated throughout my sore brain. But it was my heart that was swollen. Why him? My soul was trembling, shaking, and b-r-e-a-k-i-n-g as I waited for God to rescue Reggie from death and save me from drowning in my troubled mind.
But today, I sit here at my dining table across from my husband who is alive and well. He has been cancer free for 4 years and we plan to keep on fighting as husband and wife. Brain tumors and cancer are not death sentences. We all travel through pain and suffering. Nonetheless, we are born with free will to be happy, no matter what our circumstances may be. And Reginald is a shining example of this. Not all brain tumors are cancerous. And not all cancers are death sentences. The cancer crawled through my husband’s flesh, but lost its direction. The cancer crushed his brain vessels, but not many. The cancer bullied its way into our minds, but never made it to our hearts. Together, my husband and I follow our heroic Guiding Light. Together, we pray. Together, we live endlessly. Brain cancer, you frightened us. But you didn’t dare depress. Brain Cancer tried to spook us. But we were brave and through the darkest night, Reggie survived.
In my husband’s honor, I wrote a memoir entitled Snow Angels in prayer, in hopes of someone may read and know that God is in their presence, no matter where they are in their lives, to keep smiling, even if the sun stops shining. It will return. If you or your partner/friend/co-worker is fighting an illness, dealing with financial shambles or a broken home, or simply needing to find yourself, please know that I am a witness of God’s power. The Bible says that the Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. (Exodus 14:14) I also wrote my book to remind those who are standing by the sides of friends and family who may have a sickness, cancer, and addiction, whatever; God will protect you both. Keep fighting. Keep believing. Keep praying. While piecing our story together into a book, I envisioned the world witnessing excoriating pain. Witnessing ripe, fresh love. Witnessing agony and fear that bestows fragile hearts. Witnessing the lullaby kisses of God’s mercy.
Witnessing a true survivor.
And we survived together.