My friend's diagnosis of cancer has brought a light into my vision of my life. I love this couple like family and I love family like air.

I am very blessed. I have always known that I was well loved. I've been crazy in my life, card-carrying; I am a recovering alcoholic, active in a 12 step program. So I have spent a great deal of time around people who have not been well loved.

I had this perfect grandmother. My mom's mother. Imagine this. There was not a second in my life when I didn't believe that that woman thought I peed perfume. No matter what I did or how my parents felt about my life, this grandmother loved me exceedingly every moment. If she didn't approve, she had the gift of silence. And it wasn't only me she gave this gift to. My siblings share it as well. She's been gone almost 20 years and she is still as absolutely present in our lives and in the legacy of how we love each other every second. We love joyously.

An example. Two weeks ago, my niece and nephew gave my brother and sister-in-law a 35th wedding anniversary party. I live in Connecticut. My brother lives in Michigan. So intent were we on sharing this celebration, we drove for 26 hours to spend about 12 hours with my siblings and their families. And we were thrilled to do it. We laughed, we danced. When my family left to go back to Connecticut at 9:30 on Saturday night, we called for a "group hug". It burgeoned to about 17 people ranging from 2 to 57 wrapped up in each others' arms, YELLING, YAAAYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!! and laughing. Can you imagine?

I am a well loved 51 year old woman. YAY!

So last week, I was my 14 year old daughter's shadow, as she revealed to me the depths of her depression that had lead her to thoughts, serious thoughts of suicide. I have never been so frightened in my life. But we made it through the week and with some excellent professional intervention, the darkness is slowly lifting from her. My girl is coming back to me. I've lived in that hopeless darkness; I know the ache of it. And she is my daughter and she's a fighter. She has been through the eye of this particular needle before and she will pass through again. I pray.

So, today, another mole popped up. A dear friend who was operated on for pancreatic cancer got a very good report immediately post-op. It looked like the cancer was encapsulated and they had successfully removed it with good margins. I rejoiced. Truly. Until today. His wife sent an email with the final biopsy results. The cancer had spread to some lymph nodes so he has Stage 3 pancreatic cancer. Chances of surviving 5 years are 25%. These are the same people who just finished a biking adventure--Key West to Canada at ages 65 and 52. For three months they put one foot in front of the other and biked the eastern seaboard and no matter what obstacles they faced, the won and were grateful for every moment of that trip. And I read their blog daily and was absolutely inspired. Their trip changed my life. So now they're on another arduous journey whose outcome is bleak.

Yet they find meaning in this journey too. They are warriors who believe this experience, while difficult will enrich them. And I have promised to be there for them. I will be. Whatever it takes.

So today I don't have to wonder about what life means when you're fifty-something. Life's meaning to me is the connections I have with those I love, with those who need me. To be loved and needed and to respond to these things, that's everything. Everything else...money, possessions, status, ego..all that is dross.

Happy Valentine's day. I hope anyone who reads this has at least one moment of profound love today.

Peter is having his surgery today and I'm praying that the mass is benign. And that they continue to walk through this journey with the strength and grace that they have so far.

Perspective. A family member is annoying. Pancreatic cancer resulting in extremely invasive surgery. How quickly things gain a new point of view.

Life is good.

How self absorbed I can be. Last night, we spent a few hours with some very dear friends. Peter of this couple was just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and is having surgery tomorrow. To anyone who reads this, if you pray, however you pray, send light and energy to this man and his wife Faith. We need Peter on this planet for many more years to come.

They are the most remarkable pair. Facing what I and many of us are facing in their 50s and 60s, this is what they did. Last spring, after many month's of planning, they suited up, bought two bikes and rode from Key West FL to Canada. Now these are not people you would expect to see do this. They're plump and white collar and they did it. Their blog, The Utter Folly Tour, was a daily stop of mine and their travels were quietly inspiring. What I saw in them was that, removed from the noise of everyday life, on this trip they were joyously focused on one thing and one thing only--getting one foot over the next foot on the pedals and reaching their next destination. This mindset opened them up magnificently to so many encounters which they experienced with simple gratitude and awe.

No matter what problems occurred, their blog entries were always hopeful and positive. One thing, one foot over the next. That's it.

They are handling this diagnosis with grace and courage and they both acknowledge they their bike trip formed a framework for dealing with this surgery. What's the next thing? How do we handle it?

I loved their blog and miss their daily entries. Faith is currently writing a memoir using the trip as a frame. I can't wait to read it.

May we all simplify our lives, keep one foot moving over the other and have the grace to see it through.

And please pray for Peter.

I am one of a family of five. Husband, wife, three teenaged children. As my children grew older and boo-boo's stopped being the biggest problem du jour, I have endlessly wondered at the complexity of the emotional matrix a family presents. My well being is intrinsically tied into the well-being of each individual member of my family as well as the condition of their relationships to and among each other. I wish I could draw a web here to present this concept, even just to myself. It's mind-boggling.

So, my eldest, 20, after five years of doing almost nothing but smoking weed and drinking, has turned the corner and is on a good path. He's working, started college, found a spirituality that serves him. He is no longer my heartache.

My 14 year old daughter, who has some emotional issues stemming from family disruption and a molestation fell apart a few weeks ago and is in an intensive out patient program. But she has rebounded well and is back in school and happy. That anxiety is resolved.

After a fight with my husband Sunday night a new mole has popped up to be whacked. He was right and I was wrong. But I realized that that exchange had been the most emotional connection we had had in memory. I can't remember our last conversation that was about something heartfelt. It's usually kids, and chores and money and work. "How was your day?" "Good."

As I mulled this over over the last few days, it dawned on me. He sees his parents on Sundays. Monday evening he spends with my daughter. Tuesday and Thursday evenings he spends with my 16 year old son. Once a month he goes to a reunion of his former and now defunct employer. He sits downstairs and watches the History Channel and I sit upstairs and watch Law & Order.

So, I asked him last night if he loved me. Told him that when I looked at how he committed his time, there was nothing for me. He's depressed. He's depressive by nature, but deeply disruptive circumstances over the last few years have really drilled him into a pit. And, like most men, he toughs it out. But that's not working, clearly. He said, after a few moments reflection, that maybe he didn't... I knew this was true. Was relieved he was honest. But, my God, how do I beat down this King Kong sized mole? There's nothing I can do about this. Over the last year, I have set him up with a therapist, a psychiatrist, given him books, talked to him, but he is an emotional mute who may no longer love me after 24 years.

I'm very, very, very tired. I don't want to be a thoughtful fifty-something. I want a coma...