Day 365.
Day 730.
December 22; the date that it all started. The evening we learned our lives would never be the same in an unbelievable way and we still had no clue what was to come.
Day 1 there was a mass in Madeleine's brain causing her visibly impaired vision. Pediatric ICU. Life-threatening. Stress. Fear. Uncertainty. Sleepless.
Day 365: She's overcome so much!! We have not been beaten, we've come this far.... What do you mean there's nothing more that can be done? Mestatsis? That moment that for the first time ever, life has truly become hopeless. Madeleine is going to die from this disease. Our poor baby. The pain she's been going through. The disease was killing her all along, and we didn't have a clue. God please give us a miracle! Defeat. Hopelessness. Catastrophic sadness. Floods of tears. Unbelievable. How in the world is this our life!!
Day 730: It's still unbelievable. We only want to be home, be together the three of us. As long as we don't talk about it the tears stay at bay. We went to church. In silence I suffer. My sadness is completely beyond my control. In this sanctuary I feel vulnerable, vulnerable enough to (uncontrollably) openly weep and allow the peace of the Lord to embrace me. I've never wanted communion more than right that moment, to feel Jesus enter my soul and comfort me. "May the peace of The Lord give you peace this Christmas..." "Lord, we pray for those who are struggling to celebrate the first year without a loved one..." That one got Daddy too.
Two years. The most unbelievable, difficult, sorrowful, debilitating time of our lives. This has been a hard, hard year.
Yet we have never been more in love, more reliant upon one another going forward in life than now. Today there is laughter. Even with constant heartaches, there is laughter. Our daughter still deserves beautiful Christmas memories like every child. It's amazingly hard to put aside our feelings to help her celebrate. Though just as we did last year, with Madeleine home on hospice, we will love Christmas and celebrate the birth of our Lord and make Christmas memories for our daughter. We all miss her so much. Annalise chose her t-shirt with Madeleine's photo on it to sleep in last night. I retreated to my evening shower to cry all of my tears into the streaming water and wash them away to face the rest of the week. Daddy continues to be our rock that holds us up, selflessly giving more of his own grieving time and energy for his girls.
Missy has really accomplished so much: she began the year never truly grasping her sister's death; she began a new routine as a student with someone new in charge, new children to associate with and learn to get along; mom went back to work and she was NOT happy about it. Here we are at the end of the year, after this year we've had, and she was the star of her class's Christmas performance, playing the part of Santa. We attended a classmate's birthday party and the other class parents raved about how their girls love her and how wonderful she performed her part. We are so proud of her. She is blossoming tremendously, despite everything. We hope and pray and are confident that the worst is behind us, the worst we will ever face, and we will emerge stronger than ever, hand in hand. Today was a much better day to finish this post; after a good long cry, an incomparable closeness we share, and God's loving mercy, we are better today. I hope every December 22 gets easier with each year.
Yet we have never been more in love, more reliant upon one another going forward in life than now. Today there is laughter. Even with constant heartaches, there is laughter. Our daughter still deserves beautiful Christmas memories like every child. It's amazingly hard to put aside our feelings to help her celebrate. Though just as we did last year, with Madeleine home on hospice, we will love Christmas and celebrate the birth of our Lord and make Christmas memories for our daughter. We all miss her so much. Annalise chose her t-shirt with Madeleine's photo on it to sleep in last night. I retreated to my evening shower to cry all of my tears into the streaming water and wash them away to face the rest of the week. Daddy continues to be our rock that holds us up, selflessly giving more of his own grieving time and energy for his girls.
Missy has really accomplished so much: she began the year never truly grasping her sister's death; she began a new routine as a student with someone new in charge, new children to associate with and learn to get along; mom went back to work and she was NOT happy about it. Here we are at the end of the year, after this year we've had, and she was the star of her class's Christmas performance, playing the part of Santa. We attended a classmate's birthday party and the other class parents raved about how their girls love her and how wonderful she performed her part. We are so proud of her. She is blossoming tremendously, despite everything. We hope and pray and are confident that the worst is behind us, the worst we will ever face, and we will emerge stronger than ever, hand in hand. Today was a much better day to finish this post; after a good long cry, an incomparable closeness we share, and God's loving mercy, we are better today. I hope every December 22 gets easier with each year.
