Sharon's {cancer} Story: D-Day (July 30, 2005)

Disaster Day. The day had finally come… July 30, 2005 – the day Ryan and I were to be married.

It was a disaster day for so many reasons…

For some background: Before mom was diagnosed, I had picked out the perfect location for my small dream wedding (with her help of course). It was a beautiful, small chapel on the Tellico River (a place where I had grown up). I knew it was the place when I saw the name, Serenity Chapel. Serenity had become to mean a lot to me since I became a Christian. And serenity was something I felt as I stood in that chapel listening to the roar of the rushing river and watching the trees peacefully sway in the breeze. It was perfect. The calmness of the place reminded me of the wedding scene in Braveheart (my fav movie). It was exactly what I had wanted for my wedding. I couldn’t wait to finally stand there w/ Ryan.

But, as we gathered there the night before the wedding, that place was anything but ‘serene’. My mother’s husband had yet again created some kind of dramatic scenario that drove a wedge even deeper between my mother and I (and me and my family) and ultimately made our wedding day a living hell (no exaggeration). As the wedding party (along w/ our close friends) had gathered at the chapel for the impromptu rehearsal – ‘satan’ made a dramatic appearance (as always), causing a huge scene by screaming at me (for something) and proceeded to try and fight w/ Ryan and his parents (over made-up things). It was absolutely ridiculous. None of us could figure out why he was making such a scene… we couldn’t even figure out what he was telling us. It was insane... like a lunatic had escaped from the loony bin and was ranting and raving over some imaginary thing.

Well, he succeeded in turning my mother and sister against me the night before our wedding. And that was enough to ruin everything. What was the point of a wedding w/out two of the most important people there to support you?

It seemed impossible to make sense or try to repair things. I, again, had my mother-in-law telling me I was a ‘Hewitt’ now and that I had a new family… that everything would be better later when I moved on. (Eeehh!)

I didn't find out until later how hard that day was for mom as well. After attempting to write about this the first time, I called my sister in a mess demanding to know why things had turned out the way they did that day. As we talked, she told me things we had never talked about. And there were things she refused to tell me as well (like what 'satan' had been telling mom about me and how much Tes and mom had believed him, etc.). Mom didn't even want to come to the wedding. She didn't want anyone to see her in the state she was. She was so insecure and was obviously sick and in a lot of pain. Besides being on the multitude of meds she was on (that made her a bit loopy btw) she was recovering from her first series of chemo.

When I look back on these pictures, I get physically sick. So many emotions flood my senses I get nauseous. I hurt for mom and the things she missed out on. I hurt for the things I missed. I get angry, so so angry that things were the way they were... that I can't go back and change them. I think of how mom must have felt. I think of how I did feel. I get so angry I could SCREAM! I feel like so much was stolen... so many sweet memories. Memories that could never be replaced - and I know mom was feeling that ten times over as she sat there knowing she was dying and feeling like she was losing her baby and not feeling like she was apart of my new life.

I could literally go on forever about how nothing turned out the way it was supposed to and how any dreams I (or mom) had for that day were smashed to smithereens. And I could go on and on about all the regrets I have (like missing out on those moments w/ my mother and sister) and how I would do things differently (like only allowing close friends and immediate family to come).

But ultimately, it was a disaster day b/c it wasn’t a ‘celebration’ of two lives coming together, rather – it was a reminder of how everything was falling apart.