There are reasons why there isn’t a play-by-play rulebook for every scenario in life. There’s the bible, which I hold true, but there is no rulebook for the game of life. I imagine if there was, we would have no journeys of faith; life would not really be a journey at all, just a minute by minute decision making process all determined by the past.

Faith is about the present. I won’t deny that my faith has been tested to the extreme, and has failed me many times. While faith and love are the two things that kept Kevin and I sane and strong against this Angiosarcoma, both my faith and love were broken when that disease ultimately took his life. How could my faith not be shaken? How could my love not be scarred?

As I mentioned before, I’ve started talking to God again. It’s definitely not my typical conversations or prayers with God, but mostly a banter of conversation from me to Heaven just posing a question, or a thought, or a concern, and not really expecting an answer.

I don’t not believe that there are no answers, because I know there are, I have seen them. But my faith is shaken so much that I just don’t feel my life right now is relying on God’s answers. I realize how bitter, cold, calculated this sounds, but it’s the point at which I am at. The point where I’m trying to build a faith again, to believe there’s a purpose and a reason to all this, meanwhile struggling with the pangs of grief that rip my meager faith to shreds. It’s not a disbelief of God’s power, or a lack of any faith, or a resentment, or even an anger anymore. It’s a questioning, a seeking, a journey.

What would life be like without a journey of faith? How would we function if all we had were rules and restrictions? It would certainly be a very cold unfeeling world.

I’m not angry anymore except at the disease. My anger isn’t directed at God, or Kevin, or death, or doctors. It’s directed at ANGIOSARCOMA. It’s a disease I want to see be marked by powerful new drugs, or treatments options that give these patients a fighting chance, not a death sentence.

I’m angry that he got this cancer. But I’m more angry that the few people that get it each year get similar news to Kev: little odds of winning the battle. I think it’s about time that’s changed. It’s time for the survivors, and those who have lost this battle, to be honored and recognized rather than just be a tiny statistic amongst the many cancers.

I’m feeling empowered, not suffocated. My grief is real, I’m honoring the fact that what I feel is normal. But I’m also honoring the fact that I have a life to live, one in which I hope to make the very best of. This chapter two of living it up.

[Jesus] said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”