George came to me in a dream again, last night. I can't remember all the details, just that he was a little boy again. It probably came from my last night's reminiscing on the old days of Daddy's house in Utah. George was a little boy, then.


My mom's last post reminded me of how people say things like, "I couldn't imagine losing a sibling". Neither could I. Then it happened. Poor woman. She lost her son. I'm sure she gets a similar line. She watched me make it past Hodgkins Lymphoma and about 12 years later had to watch him die from brain tumors. It's got to mess with her. It messes with me, sometimes.


I'm glad I survived Hodgkins, but it's never felt like a huge victory. I had something that modern medicine has figured out how to fix. It's that simple. I was never going to die just like George was never going to survive...not from what he had. It makes me crazy and sane at the same time because it completely removes all "what if's" and "if only's". There was nothing else that could happen. I COULD have died if I ignored it, sure. But there was no other option for George. I guess that's where my acceptance comes in. There was no other option.