Special Guest Writer: Brenda Boitson is a freelance writer and blogger whose topics include travel, events, and businesses in central Pennsylvania. Most recently, however, her writing has shifted in focus to the loss of her husband in October 2008 to a rare form of cancer. Widowed at just 24, Brenda is now an advocate for sarcoma cancer, and is working to change how society discusses grief and accepts grieving at an early age. She is an award winning Yahoo! Contributor and writes for Local Nation by Wyndham in addition to her blog. She is currently  completing her memoir titled "Keepin' it Kevin" detailing how she and her late husband met, fell in love, battled immigration, and then Angiosarcoma.  You can read more from her at http://www.crazywidow.info



When I first held Monkey (my niece) in my arms, she clung to me like a monkey on a tree.  I clung back as if my life depended on it.  It did.  She was the reason I finally sought out professional help to deal with the past three years of my life.  I wanted to make sure that I could give to her what she had given to me: inexplicable, immediate joy.

My husband was diagnosed with a rare angiosarcoma tumor in June 2008 at age 36 and we accepted the fact that his treatments would ruin any chances we had of conceiving our own children.  In October 2008, when he passed away, my future was incredibly altered.  Our family stuck close to one another, and over the next two years our lives would again be rocked by the death of two grandparents, and a cancer diagnosis in both of my parents.

After a long struggle with conception, the news of Monkey’s imminent arrival gave us hope and joy, mixed with a deep fear of the bad that could occur.  Our family seemed to be constantly reminded of the heartaches that come with life.  We needed joy.  We needed something positive.  We needed someone new and little to breathe life into our battered lives.

She arrived on February 24, 2011 with a sprinkling of red hair like her mother’s hair and her father’s beard.  We all held her with half held breaths, simply in awe of the fragility of her body but the strength of her love.  The joy that engulfed that room bonded all of us together, but initiated a fear in me of what could potentially ruin this great moment.

After I spent the weekend of her birth wrought with fear that my little Monkey might die, I realized that the past two years had ruined my ability to feel joy without caution.  I sought out professional counseling to battle through the trauma I had associated with death and cancer.

As my Monkey approaches her 9 months living vibrantly on earth, I am able to enjoy her new developments without fear of the “could’s.”  Many things could happen to her.  Many things could happen to me.  That shouldn’t mar the relationship we have with one another.  As I make goofy farting noises that make her giggle and squeal, I soak in the pleasures of being a first time Auntie.

I am able to witness how my parents have turned into kids themselves as they sink to the floor to play with her a minute more.  My brother, his wife, and I now converse over the latest thing Monkey did when we last saw her.  Each of us has ever-present smiles when surrounded by her already larger-than-life personality.  We seek out and set aside time to spend with her and watch her grow.  She is a child with the weight of our family on her shoulders.  A weight of love and healing.

Photo courtesy Brenda Boitson
Published: November 9, 2011