It’s only when I see the patches of bald on her head that the truth sinks in. Only when I see the sad look in her eyes, and the bandages they put over the place where the needles have punctured her skin. Only when I notice the greyness of her skin, and when I remember that she’s always cold. One of her eyelashes fell out the other day; she brushed it away and said it was good luck. But we both know she needs more than good luck. Even though every eyelash will fall out, it still won’t be quite enough.


Just as she hides behind her colourful scarfs, I hide behind a smile. They say I can talk to them whenever I please. But what good will talk do? They never ask you to talk your way out of a broken leg, or talk your hair back in, or talk your way out of a third degree burn; so why would I be able to talk my way out of a broken heart?


My friends offer me hugs and a shoulder to rest on. I don’t want that. All I want is for her to be better. No, more than that, for her not to be sick in the first place. They don’t understand. They can’t understand. So I smile, and I keep my tears inside me. If I take their offering, I just push my sadness over on them. There would be no point in doing that.




Someone told me the other day they would pray for her. But prayers do no good. They didn’t save a life the last time that cancer struck. I prayed, at night when everyone else was asleep. So no one would hear the words I said, or the tears I shed. That did no good. Prayers are just words. Again, words do nothing. Words are nothing.


I try to run away from the truth, but I get tired and it catches up with me. Sometimes I trick myself; I make plans for long ahead. But she just shakes her head. That’s when the truth hits me again. It strikes me harder than the first time she told me, the first time she said ‘I have cancer as well’ sometimes it hits so hard, I can’t stand up anymore. Still, I trick myself over and over. Hoping that someday the truth will hit so hard, it will stop my heart all together.