The Smell of Giraffes

. . . remembering, The Smell of Giraffes, is a story about overcoming—in the face of cancer, death, and sadness. But, more importantly, it's a story about remembering hope, laughter, and love. And that you are more than your body parts, more than a sad story somebody will retell someday, more than your pain. Remember that . . .

*By suppertime, Sarah's list was complete and when Teddy came to see her after work, she felt oddly contented and he remarked on it. He winked and said, "You had a good day."

"Yes, I did. Let's go outside and smell the giraffes."

"What? Did they up your meds today?"

"C'mon, Teddy, time's a-wastin'."

It was a perfect evening: the sky was just the right amount of pink and azure blue; a soft westerly breeze was blowing; and two hearts were beating as one. When they came back to earth, Teddy rolled Sarah back to her room and kissed her goodnight, only this time he couldn't let go of her hand.

"It's okay," she whispered, "I promise I'll still be here tomorrow." When he tried to speak, no words came. "I love you, too, Teddy."

Deep down, Sarah understood that she was no match for this disease and it was going to run its course with or without her permission. Teddy was only just coming around to that realization. "I could stay the night . . .," he said with such longing.
She wanted to tell him she had a secret project she was working on, that she really, really needed to finish it, that the time for round-the-clock visits wasn't far away, but then she looked at that sad, beautiful, awful face and said, "Okay." The time for breaking Teddy's heart was not this night and she skootched over to make room for him on the bed. She needed him to know that there was always room for him.*