Yellowstone

Randy and I came late to watching Yellowstone. Last year it was on Paramount Network so we decided to watch Season 1, Episode 1, thinking that if we didn't like it then it was no big deal. At the end of the first episode I remember us looking at each other and saying "did all that just happen??" We were hooked! We watched all 5 seasons within a few weeks. There were times when we had to watch an episode earlier in the evening so that we could decompress before bed (IYKYK)

When we started hearing a possible return date for Yellowstone and then heard Kevin Costner wasn't returning, of course we talked about what they would do with his character. I think at the beginning of the summer they announced the return would be November 10, and we couldn't wait. 

At some point in July, we stopped talking about watching Yellowstone together. We stopped looking to the future because Randy knew his days with me were becoming fewer and fewer. I knew it too, but ever the optimist, I did not want to accept it.

I watched Yellowstone on Sunday night, alone, and it felt weird to be watching it without Randy. I'll admit to talking to his chair (sounds crazy I know, but it helps). 

This week's Grief Share topic was WHY. I ask why a lot. Not little "why's" but big ones.

Why has cancer touched my life in so many ways?

Why was my Dad diagnosed with lung cancer in 2013? Why was it so aggressive? Why him and why then? But I also remember my mom, my sister and I spending as much time as possible with him in the hospital. I think that was probably the most time we spent together as a family of 4 in years. That time is so precious to me.

Why was I diagnosed with thyroid cancer in 2019? Did I really need that wake up call to my own mortality?

Why Randy, who went through radiation, chemo and surgery, and followed the doctor's instructions to the letter, could not beat cancer. Why me and not him? Randy accepted that the cancer was terminal, and he handled his last few weeks with dignity and a serenity, and he never stopped saying "I love you" to me. 

Sometimes I feel like a toddler who continuously asks WHY? (I may have had a couple of toddler-like meltdowns too in the past few weeks) I don't get many answers, or at least not the answers I want. What I have to learn to accept is that I don't need all the answers, and I don't need to know why. And that is not easy, not at all. 




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