Breast Cancer killed you. It took and done way with you, my friend. Tore your life away. Now you’re gone. We were both getting well to run a ridge together on some grand mountaintop. Now we can’t. I can’t even believe it. You’re gone. You died this morning “quietly in her sleep”. Quietly. Right. That’s what happens when your very breath is choked out, your brain is eaten, you just die and I HATE IT. I’m so so so sorry Wendy, that they couldn’t heal you. Wonder why God said no. So sick and angry that your life is gone. I want you back. Want to fb you once again. Call you on the phone. Want to get off my lazy ass and get an airplane ticket and fly out to your Ohio farm and hold your hand and command you “Get Up in Jesus Name” but I had my fears, was too lazy and I didn’t and you are nowhere to be found as you have died, and have been taken away, and are no more and I ache with Leif who is alone now, and for your beautiful daughters who had to watch cancer show its menacing teeth, ripping tearing at you until you disappeared but for ash and earth and a stone overhead. I HATE CANCER. You were alive, an active God fearing beautiful woman. Another beautiful woman fighting thyroid cancer also young died few weeks ago. I’ve been holding on by strands, and feel I’m slipping away with the rest of you have who have been taken. You had breast cancer, she had thyroid cancer. I’ve had both. How am I to fare? I needed you both to make it, and you didn’t. Your families, they have their reasons to need you to live. I have my own. I want to live. Why will I live when you don’t? I can’t breathe. Something on my chest. And I gasp, while you stopped gasping. And the fear overtakes. A non-pretty blog for the ripping, tearing torment of a thing called cancer death.