It could have spread through my body,
It could have left me hurting and in pain,
It could taken away my believe in God,
and it could left the fight to life in vain.
And yes there were moments,
There were days when I lost my faith
And asked God repeatedly “Why?”
But each and every time,
The visual images that helped me get through,
Were the pictures in my head,
and surrounding my bed,
The hopes and dreams of a future,
and little ones I could nurture.
See when I think of precious little flower buds blooming,
On the lowest of days in treatment and death was a fear
I knew that my grandchildren deserved a loving grandmother
Who would forever treasure and hold each of their lives as something dear.
And so as I live now
Each day as if it is my last,
I never keep cancer out of prayers,
Or forget the role it played in my past.
My grandchildren are symbolic,
Of God’s grace of new life He gives to this earth,
He proceeds by giving us a new birth.
We are meant to live life with humility, faith and passion,
We are meant to die in much the same fashion.
We are indeed blessed people.
