i know, you know

I don't know much about Elizabeth Edwards. She was a political wife, but also a lawyer and career woman in her own right. She was a mother who lost a child. A wife whose husband betrayed her. A sick woman who battled not only her own terminal cancer but also fought a battle to provide health care for those who aren't privileged enough to have that security. I never read her books, but I caught a couple of interviews with her and read a few articles she wrote. She seemed like a strong, gracious woman.

When she lost her battle with cancer today, I didn't know quite how to feel. I think when you're a survivor, you always fear having to go through it again and not being as lucky the second time around. I remember sitting in the chemo room after our honeymoon waiting to get my chemo fanny pack and pic line restocked with cancer-killing poison. There were a lot of older women there, all of them looking at me a little askance like, "What are you doing in here, girl, with your tan and your hair? Either you're waiting for someone so get out of our space, or you're one of us and we feel pity for you because you are too young to deal with all that we have." Most of them were dealing with round two of breast cancer and it was a bitch. Like, I beat it ten years ago and now it's back in my brain or I beat it 20 years ago and now it's back in my bones. Breast cancer is nasty. That's a scary reality when you're 30, and scary 10 years later. It's just scary.

I admire Elizabeth and her strength to fight the battle with such grace and fortitude. I found this quote in the news article today and I thought...yep, girl, you did it right.

"Either you push forward with the things that you were doing yesterday or you start dying," she said. "If I had given up everything that my life was about ... I'd let cancer win before it needed to."

Her Facebook farewell brought tears to my eyes, too:

"The days of our lives, for all of us, are numbered. We know that. And, yes, there are certainly times when we aren't able to muster as much strength and patience as we would like. It's called being human," she wrote. "But I have found that in the simple act of living with hope, and in the daily effort to have a positive impact in the world, the days I do have are made all the more meaningful and precious. And for that I am grateful. It isn't possible to put into words the love and gratitude I feel to everyone who has and continues to support and inspire me every day. To you I simply say: you know."

I know, you know.