Last night, I lay in bed, exhausted after a long day in the chemo chair. I listened to Dennis sweetly singing Little J to sleep in the next room. Softly and gently, he croons, “Look for the Silver Lining,” a Chet Baker favorite that father and son sing together every night. It was the first song Dennis played for me in his house in Oakland when we started dating. I remember that, at the time, the moment made me think of a line from one of my favorite Bossa Nova songs. Like a message from above it sang, “Follow the fellow who follows a dream.”
And I did. Dennis follows his dreams and defends the silver lining against all odds to this day.
After Little J fell asleep, Dennis came into our room where Virgil rested with me. I had a little cry, then tried to pull myself together. Dennis just pet Virgil’s belly, gently pulling out hairballs and brambles from the garden, and said, “No go ahead and cry. You deserve it. Get it out.” So I indulged in a few more tears about why-can’t-PARP inhibitors-be -ready-for-me-now-so-we-don’t-ever-have-to-go-through-this-again. And then quiet cuddling. And moments later, Dennis suggests a plan of action (always about the solution, this guy). People we could write to, ways we could advocate for me and the thousands of women in my position right now.
The tears were good. The hope and promise, even better.
Look for the silver lining,