When I was little, my mom's sister lived in the same town as us. She was a nurse, and so she had a day or two off each week, in return for night shifts. She often babysat me on those days, and she quickly became my best friend. We'd do aerobics with some exercise show on tv. We made rolls and cupcakes and an absolute mess of Mom's kitchen. Usually we hung out at our house, but sometimes she'd take me to her apartment. I still remember every detail of that place, from the chain lock on the door to the sunlight streaming into the tiny kitchen to the big concrete step in the parking lot.

Back then she wore her hair down to her waist, and she'd bend over and flip it upside down to brush it. I loved her hair, and while she brushed I would walk beneath it, through it. She'd shake it all around me and I'd giggle.

Tomorrow she goes into the hospital to begin preparing for a bone marrow transplant. She has leukemia, and without a transplant she will die within two years, if not much sooner. The transplant is a blessing, for sure, although it's not a guarantee. No one in the family matched her closely enough. They have found her a match, from a noble stranger, and it's a good match. But not a perfect match. And so basically the transplant will either cure her or kill her. The risk is so significant that she has struggled with the decision to have the transplant at all. If she doesn't, she will die. But at least she might get two more years with her kids.

She has chosen to fight for the chance at much longer than that, and she's been emailing updates to all of us regularly. Today she wrote to say she wouldn't be able to email while she's in the hospital. She talked about this choice she has made, and said she's going into the transplant with a positive attitude. But she said she believes this is out of her hands, and she's uncertain whether God will take her home to be with him or bring her through to be with us. She asked us to pray for her kids, and she thanked us for standing with her. And then she told us all that she loves us. She is saying goodbye, just in case.

I can't bring myself to say it back.