Friends move in and out of your life, but family is forever.
I’ve mentioned in the past that my cousin, Jen, also carries the gene. Her surgeries began in 2009 and continued through 2010. I am so grateful to have her back in my life.
We are only three months apart in age and when I stilled lived in Pennsylvania, my memory recalls seeing each other regularly. After I moved to Ohio, our relationship continued, but didn’t prosper, just maintained. She was engaged at a young age (22) and married just a year later. Our paths seemed to separate very definitively at that point. She had already tested for the gene, was engaged, and was planning her family. My mother just passed away, I was angry, I’d returned to my hometown without a degree waiting tables and ready to party.
I really hate that I followed behind her throughout the last 10 years. I complained incessantly throughout the wedding arrangements, gave little care when her first child was born, and wrote her off as someone that I have nothing in common with besides a little blood. I made up my mind that she didn’t understand me, nor me her, and wrote her off as such.
Although I had made up my mind, I found my life changing and wishing for a sounding board, and not just any, but a relative, that I could talk with. Since my mother had passed and neither of my sisters were in the same part of their lives as me, I found myself connecting and confiding with Jen again.
Being a family means you are part of something very wonderful. It mean you will love and be loved for the rest of your life. No matter what. - Unknown
I visited her for her son’s first birthday party and then again two years later after my first son was born. She had just had her mastectomy and was excited that my new little peanut weighed less than 10 pounds so she was allowed to lift and hold him. With her in pain and me a new mom, we each took a couch in the family room and slept on and off throughout the night, sometimes chatting to pass the time.
Now my family tries to visit her at least once a year, and although they travel near to us in Ohio, the universe has not allowed us to meet up (although we’ve tried). We shack up in her house when we visit family for Christmas, and I know that we are getting pretty comfortable staying there. It’s some of my favorite times of the year. Each time I stay we each end up with a glass or two of wine and she lets me ask as many questions as I want. I’ve seen her reconstruction in the various stages and she is more than willing to give me recommendations and counsel of what is to come.
I’ve always felt less than stoic after I speak with her. Jen maintains this upbeat attitude that I know I could never match. I always pictured her as a beacon of bravery and cursed that I would have to follow such an amazing woman.
This past weekend we visited her again for Christmas. We had one night that involved a late night cram session as the last preparation for my surgery. I finally asked her the question that has been weighing the most on my mind, “how did you feel right before they wheeled you in for surgery? were you terrified?” She admitted that she was along with a list of all of her other fears. Wait…what? You were scared? My rock, my hero, my mentor? It slowly sank in. Of course she was. Who wouldn’t be? I only thought even higher of her after that. As scared as she was, she was able to maintain this persona of coolness and in control. She comforted her worried family and put on a brave face for anyone that would witness.
Jen is incredible and amazing and I am so lucky to have her back in my life. I am also so thankful that our lives seem to be on the same path again, and I’m not years behind her. I just wish that I knew then what I know now, but who doesn’t? I can’t wait to see what this new year will bring us.
I love you, Jen.
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