I have had an inner debate about whether to write this post, but I am angry.
I have a cousin, a year younger. During my early childhood, the years before 12, I probably spent one month of each year with her family. We were too much alike, so we fought a lot of the time we were kids. OK, most of the time. I allied myself with her older sister, who is my age. I did things I should not have done. So did she. Our adult relationship has been an uneasy detente.
Tragically, her husband, whom I liked a lot, died of cancer several years ago. She has been through hell, of that I have no doubt. I have thought about her a lot during the years since, wondering about her trials. But I did not do that much to reach out to her. I think I sent flowers when her husband died. I did not go to the funeral, since I lived in New York and she lived in California. I know that at least I sent a condolence card. I have shown her daughters around when they have visited New York. I thought a lot about this family since cancer intruded on them. But, to be honest, I didn’t do that much.
I know she knows I have cancer. My brother told her. I have heard not a thing from her. We are Facebook friends. Email is a click away.
Today, she posted something on Facebook about people who have died of cancer, and those who are still fighting it. Something about caring about us cancer people. Something about how many people will not cut and paste this tribute, but she did.
That’s too easy. It’s easy to say you care, but show me.
I should have.