Losing the battle but winning the war!

---

 
 

The women sat in a circle; all alike and all different, sharing a sad but wonderful commonality.

The forty-ish brunette spoke first. "It's been nearly three years, but it still scares me."

"Twelve for me, and I sometimes still wake up with it staring me in the face, said the older woman to her right.

"Fourteen for me, and you know it hasn’t really gone away,” said the blond across from her.

Marie sat in the circle and listened to the other women with an understanding that can only come from experience. She waited a moment, and then looked at the facilitator for a cue.

"Ladies, Marie has something she needs to tell us." Not "share," but "needs to tell."

All six women looked at Marie in dreaded expectation, expecting the worst. They were wrong only in that the worst they imagined wasn't the worst.

"I want to tell you first that I treasure our times together. I know that God has led me through this, and you are a major part of his plan for me. I won't dawdle, best to say it and get it over with." Janet looked at Marie and her eyes teared up. Good news may be blurted out, but you never have to get it over with.

"Well, the good news is I don't have breast cancer..." She smiled, actually appreciating the irony. "Stage three pancreatic cancer." Three of her six friends actually said "OH NO," in unison, as an almost macabre chorus to her tragic news. But she didn't consider her illness a tragedy.

"Ladies," she reached over and put her hand on Janet's arm, who was crying.

"I'm okay...really." She actually was. Having lost a husband, raised twins and lost one, helping her son as he recovered from his own cancer and finally loving her son and daughter-in-law through their miscarriage had not just steeled her to the enemy that now returned to plague her. She could almost laugh in its face. No Pollyanna, she knew that at best her days could be planned only month to month. No amount of morphine would prevent the pain altogether, and she would likely lose her pretty red hair. But she smiled at her friends nonetheless. The sound of "I know that my redeemer liveth" was in the back of her head, but in the rendition that her other "daughter" had played at the gravesite of her twin. The knowledge that the music brought gave her supreme comfort and gave her courage to face the inevitable triumph of the disease that now ravaged her body.

The cancer had become almost a worthy adversary rather than an awesome foe. She didn't know, but her adversary was also becoming acquainted with another family member.

---

 

"You've got to tell him." Gina said. Gina could be glib, clever, and witty. None of those talents suited the moment, and she uncharacteristically burst into tears as she embraced her best friend. The other woman sobbed as well, creating a sad duet which lasted several minutes.

"I will, but would you and Ben be there when I do?" It was a question that required a when? or where? rather than if.

Erica said as their crying subsided.

"Oh, honey, you just point me in the right direction and we'll be there."

"I can't wait too long...tomorrow night for dinner?" She looked at Gina and smiled. "I'll even make pot roast and potatoes," she said with a wry smile. Erica and Ben had a thing going where food, especially "Irish" food was always an incentive or bribe for Ben to be involved in Erica and Gina's "Lucy-and-Ethel-like" schemes.

"We'll even bring the Guinness," Gina tried to joke but burst into tears once again. The adversary stood and watched, fooled into thinking he'd already won, when actually his defeat had begun.

---

 

"Gina and Ben are coming over for dinner, honey. Would you mind changing?"

Erica called from the living room. Down the hall in the den, the red-haired woman as sitting at the piano with paper and pen in hand, transposing notes for a song she was writing. She looked up from her notes and called softly, "Two minutes, I promise."

A few minutes later she got up from the piano and walked down the hall to the bedroom."

---

 

"What's for dinner, sweetheart?" Mark said as he walked into the kitchen. Erica stood at the sink peeling potatoes. She smiled and said, "Why and it's my handsome husband, as ever was," in a charming but ersatz brogue.

"Sure and we're havin' the national meal in honor of our Irish heritage. I know St' Paddy's day is six months away, but no harm in being prepared." She laughed as she put the potatoes in the pot. She walked up to Mark and kissed him.

"Have I told you today that I love you very much?" Erica said as she pushed her hand through Mark's hair.

"Only six times, darling," Mark said (not counting when Erica told Maired twice).

"But I never tire of it, may I hear it again?" Mark asked. He looked into her eyes and she had started to cry.

"What's wrong, honey?" he said as he hugged her.

"I just love you so much...I love you." She tried to go on, but her soft cries turned to sobs. "I.....I...love....you."

---

 

"Knock, knock." Gina said as she leaned into the doorway. Ben stood behind her with some flowers and the Guinness. Mark came up the hallway from the bedroom. Gina noticed his reddened eyes. She walked quickly to him and hugged him, her own eyes beginning to fill with tears. Ben put his packages down and walked up to his wife and Mark and joined the hug, his right hand held up slightly as he prayed silently.

They sat at the kitchen table. The Guinness sat next to a couple of pizza boxes, the day's meal still sitting on the counter, unfinished. The four sat at the table, their eyes still red from the crying. But they were filled with hope.

The adversary tried to interrupt their conversation, thinking that they were only talking. The four held hands and mouthed powerful words silently, which served to discourage the unwanted guest. He was confident in victory for the battle at the table, failing to see he had already lost the war.

---

 

The smallish dark-haired woman sat at her daughter's bedside, flanked by her loved ones. Her tears abated only somewhat as she squeezed her daughter's hand.

"I'm going to be okay, Mommy," the woman in the bed said. Yes, women in their thirties may still call their mother "Mommy." She had tried unsuccessfully to remind her mother that the cancer was "only" in stage one, and her chances for recovery were very good; as good as anyone who knows about it can expect. Authors are allowed to peek at the back of the book, and I can tell you her chances were excellent, but more of that later.

Diane kept stroking Erica's hand as they waited for the doctor. Mark stood over his mother-in-law's shoulder, stroking her hair and kissing her head. It wasn't consolation, really. He and Erica had explained that her operation had brought all hope to an end for having children, and Diane's tears were not that of a disappointed grandmother but the cry of a mother for her only child's grief and loss. The room would have held only two or three visitors if the nurse had been unsympathetic.

Nancy Soriano, the oncology nurse who usually worked the children's ward, was filling in for a vacationing friend, and had "bent" the rules to include Erica's loved ones. The adversary was the only unwelcomed visitor, but no one really noticed him anyway. The other mother in the room sat on the heater by the window praying quietly to herself. Marie had not shared her own news, deciding until after Erica's operation. "Too much to take in at once," she said. And she wasn't being a martyr at all; she knew that the adversary was there to gloat, and she did not want to give him any more to work with.

---

 

"The tumor was smaller than we expected," the doctor said as she brushed a hair from her brow. The adversary began to gloat at the next few words. "We still had to remove the uterus, as we discussed. Erica's eyes would have filled with tears but for the remaining effects of the anesthesia. Mark squeezed her hand and kissed her forehead.

The adversary began to laugh, but no one paid attention. He failed to notice how thankful and relieved the couple was despite their grief. The doctor stepped closer to the bed and leaned over. Unprofessional perhaps, but excellent bedside manner was displayed as the doctor kissed the patient on the cheek. Linda Mayo had been Erica's doctor for years and she was glad to participate with the oncologist in Erica's treatment. The adversary glowered at the scene and decided to return to the other member of the family to plan his next attack. Had he been able to speak, he might have said, "No matter," wrongly believing that his victory lay elsewhere.

---

 

For the second time in six weeks, Gina sat across from a dear friend trying to make sense of it all. She at once felt privileged for the trust and devastated for the news.

"Of course, Marie." She tried awfully hard not to cry, and soon the older woman was comforting her. Marie had been like a second mother to her growing up, and the news hit her as hard as if her own mother told her she was dying. The news was so hard to hear so soon after Erica's operation, but Marie needed her help. Gina's mother was on her side, weeping.

Betty and Marie were best friends, and both families had suffered more than their fair share of loss, as some might have understood it. Really, no one has any fair share in these matters. It's not the news or the illness, since we all suffer grief and loss in our lifetimes. It's the coping and sharing and encouragement and love we all receive and give in these times that are really the issues, as the adversary was soon to discover.

---

 

Mark sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. For the first time in his life he actually was able to resist feeling sorry for himself. His own victory over the adversary had drawn him closer to the ultimate Victor, and he was filled with courage despite the tears that filled his eyes. His faith would be challenged many more times in his lifetime as all of us have come to expect, but he was prepared fully for anything. Maura had shown him that way, and his mother and wife and friends were there for his own battle. The adversary would have rubbed his hands together in glee, but for the light that filled the household.

---

 

"More tea?" Maired asked Erica, who was sitting on the couch. Her legs were curled up underneath her, covered by a comforter, ironically. She smiled at her love; who hovered over her shoulder and said, "Yes, please." She returned to the kitchen to retrieve the tea pot, singing quietly to herself.

"Is that new, My Dear?" The woman on the couch said as the other returned with the tea.

"Mark finished writing it yesterday. He only needed my help with the bridge, and only just a little."

"Music?" the adversary questioned. What was music doing here, today. His victory in the small battle should have silenced the musicians and singers in this household. The woman on the couch had been singing sweetly through it all, an unwelcome addition to the melodies that the others had been singing.

"Gina said she had some news for us. She wanted to stop by this afternoon, if that's okay with you."

"I'd be happy to stay the afternoon, but I think it best if Mark is here instead."

"That's probably a good idea, honey. You don't mind, do you? You know I love you, don't you?" The woman smiled as her nurse continued to hover.

"Of course," the other woman said as she leaned over and kissed the woman on the couch. Maired had come to an agreement with Mark. She was always welcome, but she was the guest in the home, as it should be. She would help from time to time, and she was always welcome, but even she knew her role in life. For those who know, please excuse the following, but some of you may not know that Maired, a beautiful short-haired redhead is not only a trusted friend and member of the Kiernan household, but the alter-ego of Mark. Born out of grief over the loss of his twin sister Maura, Maired had become a welcome aspect of Mark and Erica's relationship, as much a part of him as his music and his creativity, but still a part of the whole.

---

 

"It's like being pulled in two different directions, honey, and I don't know if I'm up to the task." Gina said as Katie poured her some coffee. Katie was doing some hovering of her own as she put the coffee pot down and walked behind Gina. She rubbed Gina's shoulders while saying,

"I know you can do this because I know you. And your Mom will be there. But first things first." She said as she continued rubbing Gina's shoulders. "Alice said that it's really up to Mark and Erica, and that whatever they decide will be understood.

"It's only been three weeks...do you think they're ready for this?"

"I honestly don't know," Katie said as she sat down and poured some coffee for herself. "I believe they're ready to hear what we have to say, but whether or not they can decide is another story. I believe that we can only do one thing at this time," she said as she reached over for Gina's hands, her eyes glancing quickly upward.

---

 

The adversary was confused. This group should have been defeated by now. Victory after victory mounted as he counted his triumph prematurely, failing to understand that the group had already been delivered.

"Honey, I know this is so soon," her voice trailed off. Ben reached over and grabbed Gina's hands and squeezed, finishing her sentence,

"But we felt you at least needed to hear what we have to say. Linda, Gina's niece, has a friend at Temple whose cousin is expecting. You remember Alice Chang...she visits the hospital. She says her cousin's just seventeen. Her parents had put her out of the house when she told them the news. She's decided to give the baby up for adoption.

Mark looked at Ben, and began to think. Ben anticipated his question.

"She's prayed about it. She isn't prepared to raise the baby herself, despite having some great support from her church friends. She wants to bless the baby with someone who'll be able to raise the child. She wants the child to know who she is, but wants the baby to know the love of adoption. Does that make sense to you?"

Mark was afraid that this was too much for Erica. He could hardly take it all in himself. Before he had a chance to speak (for the second time) Erica looked at Gina and Ben and then Mark and said.

"Yes." She had tears in her eyes, but they weren't sad. She looked again at Mark and said quietly,

'Okay?"

His own tears began to blur his vision, and he struggled to focus. No matter, because he still could speak.

"Yes."

---

 

"Mom...how did you handle it when Daddy died? I can't even talk about Marie without crying, and you seem to be handling it."

"Oh, sweetie, I cry all the time, just not always with tears." Betty said as she combed her daughter's hair. Ben sat across from his wife and drank his tea.

"Faith, my dear wife." Ben said. "The same as yours...the same as mine. Mark and Erica's, too.

"And your Daddy's...and Marie's."

"I suppose we should get this party started then," Gina said, smiling through her tears.

---

 

Erica sat on the couch next to Mark, who was weeping. No one would correct him with, "It's okay....you just have to have faith....everything will be alright." Every one of those things would be true...are true, but Mark had just heard his mother say she was dying. He was angry and sad and scared at the same time. Oh, his faith would prevail, much to the dismay of the adversary who sat on the hearth uninvited. Mark was thirty-one. He had survived cancer, the death of his father and sister, the death of a child, and now his own wife's bout with cancer. Who wouldn't be angry and scared and sad, no matter how much faith they had? He was a young boy who just found out his mommy was dying, if you know what I mean. You never stop being your mother's child, no matter how old you are. Marie sat beside him, clutching Erica's hand for support. Her own heart filled with love for her child, sad at the moment but strong in her own faith. It's like driving with someone and they know where they're going. She only had just a little more information than her son, but it was just enough to help him trust that everything would be okay.

---

 

A few weeks later, Marie lay in the bed, tenaciously holding on. She had conceded the battle, confident that the war was won. She sat up as the woman entered the room. Her visitor looked almost embarrassed, but her mother broke through with the words,

"I'm so glad you could come. Please," she said, patting the bed as if to offer her a seat. She walked over to the bed and sat down. "Honey, there's nothing to be ashamed of," she said as she held the woman's hand.

"I can't...." the woman began to cry.

"I love all my children, sweetheart. Equally." Marie pulled Maired’s hand to make the point. "I love you deeply, and I am sorry I can't stay." Maired fell into her mother's arms and wept, probably more than she had in a long time, even with all the sadness and loss of recent memory. Her shoulders heaved as she grieved before her loss had come to pass.

Marie stroked her daughter's hair and said,

"I am proud of you. I want you to know you are a part of my heart, and I treasure you.

Marie's blessing pierced through Maired's feelings of shame, which we can understand even as we reject them...as Maired would once again reject them with the help of her mother's love. This was painful to the extreme, and uncomfortable.

She felt she didn't belong, once again believing herself to be an interloper rather than the beloved daughter that she was. Marie's words helped like a balm to soothe her daughter's newly reopened self-inflicted wounds.

"I love you...all of you. I want you to know that. If you ever forget everything I've ever said, as God as my witness, know this one thing. I love you, Maired."

---

 

The adversary sat in the corner of the room, confident in the knowledge of his victory as he watched the woman's life slowly ebb away in the presence of her loved ones. More to celebrate, he might have said, but the peace in the room was disquieting, which angered him. Looking around one last time, he conceded his loss and departed, never to plague this family again.

The nurse once again looked away. She understood the need for this moment, and most of the staff agreed with her anyway as the room filled up with friends and family.

"Say hello to your granddaughter," Mark said as he placed the baby in Marie's arms.

The little girl's soft Asian features and course black hair belied her name,

"Marie Diane Gina Kiernan, meet your grandmother."

Marie looked on her family and friends. Diane and Betty, Gina and Ben, and Erica and Mark. The end was near, but while her battle with the adversary was nearly over, she was moments away from meeting the Victor face to face. She grabbed her son’s hand and reached over and placed Mark’s hand in Erica’s. With the sweetest smile that imparted peace to everyone in the room, she looked at the baby in her arms and up at her son. Noting his longish dark red hair, she smiled and said, "Why honey, she looks just like you."

More from the Kiernan Family soon