Wyoming Author Mary Billiter

One wish…

To dance with my son at his wedding

A simple dance with my son. It doesn’t seem like a big ask. Yet, it was the one constant thought I had for the last year. During weeks of three-day chemo treatments of 5FU (appropriately named) to undergoing a Whipple procedure, followed by more chemo, I’d close my eyes and imagine dancing with my oldest son.

And if you knew Austin you’d understand. He brings so much love and kindness to this world that makes it easy to forget when bad things happen. 

A year ago, Austin proposed to Jordan, his college sweetheart, beneath a tree in their favorite park in Chicago. Less than two months later, I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

It’s not how I envisioned helping them plan their wedding. Instead, they helped me. Austin and Jordan drove to Cheyenne for my first chemo treatment on Dec. 20. They made Christmas dinner and somehow managed to rally me to go sledding. I carried my port of chemo with me and found myself giggling when Austin and his identical twin, Kyle, pushed me down the hill.  

My four children  made sure I was never alone. And my former husband, Ron was right beside me to ensure my children weren’t burdened any further.

Still, there were days that turned into weeks where I felt my dream to dance with my son slip away. I even prayed to die. Thankfully God didn’t listen. 

Pancreatic cancer usually doesn’t have favorable outcomes. I honestly don’t know why I was spared, only that I was, and I thank God every day. Every. Day.

So, on a warm, fall evening in September, I was escorted to my seat by my beautiful boy. I watched him marry the love of his life. Kyle and Cooper stood beside their brother and Ciara stood beside her new sister-in-law.

It was a once-in-a-lifetime moment. It’s what I absolutely love about romance – the happily ever after. 

And I got to dance with my son.

Life is beautiful, messy, and unpredictable. Writing about life and all it’s variations gives me great joy and is my perfect escape. I hope reading is your perfect escape.

Write. Edit. Repeat. Stories Matter.