Most people are taught to love, not to hate. We are told from a very young age that you shouldn't say hate. Hate is a strong emotion. I find myself saying things like, "I hate mayonnaise." But the truth is, I just dislike it, a lot.
I hear more and more about hate crimes. I will never understand how someone can hate another human being because of the color of their skin, their religious beliefs, their sexual orientation.
Hate is a very strong word. You can dislike something. You can disagree with someone. But to hate. Nothing deserves that word.
I was wrong though. Cancer deserves that word.
I lost my grandmother to cancer. She beat it once and then it came back. She fought the second time for 10 years before she was too tired and was ready to die. She was 79. She lived a good life. 4 children. 6 grandchildren and 1 great-grandchild on the way.
Cancer made me so angry for taking her, but I knew she was ready. I was able to prepare myself for the day she died. Mind you, nothing really prepares you, but I was able to tell her I loved her before she died. I was able to hold her hand and she knew I was there. She told me she loved me too.
I wasn't prepared for Sloane to die. I knew it was a possibility, but I never thought it would actually happen. The doctors tried to prepare me for it, just in case it did. They did this 3 or 4 times. Each time I felt the same. I fell to the floor each time, I cried, but I picked myself up and sat by Sloane's bedside. I told her I loved her, I held her hand, but I wasn't sure if she heard me. She couldn't tell me she loved me back. Each time, she pulled through. Until the last time, until she didn't.
Now I understand the emotion of hate. I hate cancer with every ounce of my being.