President Hollande gave a speech. This is a declaration of war, he said. So now my country is at war, but a weird kind of war, fighting an ennemy that has no name, no boarders, maybe even an ennemy from within, French terrorists for french victims. We are scared. We feel under attack. We stand united. We want to fight. Yes, it feels just like war.

But war is nothing new to me. My own war – my secret, internal war – started over two years ago. It was also by a cold night of autumn, the night my 3 months-old was diagnosed with a brain cancer. We nicknamed Soley our warrior, our little tank. Of course it was a civil war, but we told her the tumor was a nasty monster invading her little head. We told her we would kick it out. We used weapons that were more and more lethal, as we became more and more desperate. We lived in a state of permanent stress and anxiety. Just like in any war, there were casualties. And then we were left behind, like broken veterans.

Now gunmen are shooting people on café terraces and death is popping its head in the city of lights. So that’s how it’s going to be ? Are we going to live with that shadow of fear ? But still living as we’re used to, still going out and drinking wine and still dancing, because nothing, not even terror, not even shootings (not even cancer, not even child loss) can stop life. That’s the surprising thing with humans. We can get use to everything, survive everything.

A friend of mine, another cancer mom who lost her 14 y-old daughter on Valentines day, wrote a facebook status in reaction to the attacks : “I’m not afraid to die, my angel is waiting for me in heaven”. This made me think. Death is a part of my daily reality ; the most important person in my life is a dead baby. Like my friend, I wouldn’t say I’m afraid to die. I’m not suicidal either, but there’s a lot of nights I’m going to bed hoping i won’t wake up in the morning. And i am the only one struggling to wear a seatbelt ? But unlike my friend, I don’t believe in heaven, so death loses of its appeal. Mostly I’m just tired of living.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this article. But as I write I’m watching amateur footage of spectators escaping the concert hall, some running, some limping, some dragging bodies. Stepping over corpses on the doorstep of the emergency exit. The man recording the video from his appartment keeps asking them “what’s going on ? what’s going on ?” They don’t answer.

I wonder how they feel. I think I would be scared. I think i would run away as fast as possible. I think I would want to live. My daughter is dead, but I think I would want to live.