If tomorrow never comes Once upon a time, and to be exact, in the month of November of last year: Before I went to bed that night, I picked up my bible that was sitting like my guardian angel by my bed, and, for the hundredth time I read Psalm 23.4, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” Contemplating on the depth of its meaning, a flow of perfect peace went through me. With the bible clasped in my hands, I put my trust in Him and went to sleep. But, when I drove to the clinic the next morning, my peace was not as perfect. Anticipation and fear had taken hold of me again. As my car was getting closer to its destination, the lump in my throat was growing bigger and bigger. It is amazing how the devil’s hold on our minds is so strong and so persistent, that it does not take much temptation on his part to make us forget God’s promises and give in to his evil intentions. To make it harder on me, the devil took me on a quick tour to my not so distant yesterday. Until only a few weeks ago, my life was almost perfect, except for the normal ups and downs in my day to day life. This year alone, I had so much to celebrate. I witnessed all my three children realizing successes in their lives, all to their hearts contents. And only a month ago, I made a very dear dream come true when I visited Cairo and reunited with my best friends. I had the most wonderful reunion and rekindled the most beautiful relationships I have had in my entire life. All was well, and my energy level was as high as ever. Little did I know that I was about to embark on a scary adventure in the lonely world of cancer.Things happened too quickly, first the cyst and then the bleeding, followed by some tests, and then more tests, until last week when I received an unexpected phone call at work from my general practitioner. She said that she had my pap smear results and the abnormal cells found were alarming. I cannot remember now if she used the dreaded word “cancer” or I did. She said that she was arranging for me to see a specialist and explained that this was something that needed to be taken very seriously. When she asked if I had any questions, I said no. I sat there stunned, trying to sort out what she had just told me. I could not think of anything to say or ask. My heart sank to the ground. The first thought that came to mind was that I was going to die. Surrounded by some compassionate and other not so compassionate colleagues, I decided to remain composed, go about my work, until I got home. Out of my despair I tried to squeeze strength. I didn’t break down until I got in my car and called my husband. Though he tried to calm me down, nothing could stop my panic at that moment. I needed to run to my computer and conduct my research to understand what was going on in my body. All the information gathered was pointing only in one direction: Cervical cancer. Now, I was more sure that I was going to die. I cried until there were no more tears to shed. So, what do I do next, I asked myself. If I have as little time as my friend Isaaf had between her diagnosis and her death, then I don’t have much time. All I could think of is the love I have for my children, my family and my friends. In my heart I asked God to give me the time and the means to see all of them and tell them how much I loved them. I wanted to ask them not to mourn my death when I go, and instead celebrate my life. I wanted to thank them for being part of my life and a source of joy to my being. Realizing how impractical that plan was, I decided to at least write letters to all the people who impacted my life. I wanted to say thank you, sorry, forgive me, and good bye. The thought calmed me down, and I began to write my first letter to my oldest son, Sami. But my tears were much too fast for my pen. They ran uncontrollably down my cheeks with every word I wrote. By the time I penned, “tell Layla that Teta loved her so,” I was completely drained, both emotionally and physically. I decided to stop and take a break. I turned my Chopin's music on, picked up my favorite book "The Prophet" for Khalil Gibran and began to read. My eyes fell on a page that I had read many times before, but this time the words spoke to me personally: “If in the twilight of memory we should meet once more, we shall speak again together and you shall sing to me a deeper song… A little while, a moment of rest upon the wind, and another woman shall bear me.” I was bewildered. Was he talking to me? What a wonderful and comforting thought. So, my going away is nothing but “rest upon the wind”, and I shall meet with my beloved once again in the twilight of memory. All these thoughts went through my mind while I drove into the parking lot. As I pulled in, I looked up to the sky to make sure that my guardian angel was watching over me. But all I could see was a gloomy day with a gray and dim color sky. Every part of me was anticipating bad news, even though I secretly prayed and hoped for good news. I suppose this is God’s way of preparing us for great turns in our lives. He promises us the best, but prepares us for the worst. Looking back at my life, I now believe that this approach has always been my source of strength. Somehow, I always ended up finding strength in my despair. The wait was not long. I was summoned to one of the rooms, and after checking my blood pressure, which was understandably very high, I was asked to keep my clothes on until the specialist came and talked to me. A beautiful young doctor, with a sweet face and a kind look walked into the room and sat across from me. I straightened myself and tried to look calm, waiting for her to pass her verdict on my test results. It must have been the anxiety all over my face that made her rush into reassuring me, “I want you to know that you do not have cancer.” “Oh, my Lord!! How can I thank you for all your love and kindness my dear God!” I exclaimed. Suddenly my tensed muscles relaxed. I sat back, dazed but attentive, and listened to her as she patiently explained what was going on in my body, and what my options were. Nothing she said could take away my joy, not even her mention of a probable surgery. I kept my cool because in these circumstances a surgery was something that I could easily handle. I could not wait to leave the clinic and run back to the arms of life again. I ran out of the medical office lighthearted and overjoyed. Stepping out of the hospital’s main entrance I felt as if I stepped into a beautiful painting. The gray and gloomy sky I had last seen before entering the clinic, has turned blue. The parking lot was surrounded by the most colorful trees. Gentle wind chanted a joyful song as it softly brushed against their branches, and the beautiful golden, red, and green leaves of autumn danced to the tune. Was it autumn already? Had the season changed while I was inside the clinic? I looked around with a blissful daze, eyes fixed on the splendid view all around me. This glorious fall foliage that stood magnificently before me, made my heart sing. I was happy to be alive and well. Tomorrow, God willing, will come, but those love letters to my beloved ones must go. This was a wake up call for me. People I love must know how much I love them during my lifetime and not after I am gone. Again, I thanked God in my heart and with my lips for giving me another opportunity to share my love with the world.Driving home with the good news, every part of me sang : “So, I made a promise to myself To say each day how much [they] mean to me And avoid that circumstance Where there’s no second chance to tell [them] how I feel So tell that someone that you love Just what you’re thinking of, if tomorrow never comes. November, 2005 [On Christmas eve, I handed out to my children, my parents, my husband and my siblings the letters I had promised to write. I put them in colorful bottles and gave them to each and everyone of them. Those "letters in a bottle" might not have had much of monetary value, but they sure had a lot of love in them. ]