In time, I know my perceptions will go back to the way they should be; thinking of other people's circumstances and not personalizing them. To some extent, I do that now. The one exception is children with cancer. Who die.
The last time I posted about Talia Castellano, her outlook seemed grim, and I braced myself. I had grown to love this little girl who accepted in her heart that she was chosen for something much greater than herself. She had become one of the most public faces of childhood cancer. She wanted to make a difference. She wanted to bring awareness to the serious lack of interest in funding cure research for children. It only makes sense. It's common sense because kids have their whole lives ahead of them, she told The Truth365 in her interview with them in 2012 (a wonderful documentary for the cause I might add). I loved her for the child she was, the things taught to the masses through her, and the love and compassion for kids with cancer she stirred in the rest of the world. Although I didn't know her, I understood her struggle. I too was in awe of this little girl, for God's sake she was only 13 years old! Her vocabulary was beyond her years, she was fashion forward, beyond internet savvy, technology savvy: she was a firework. Truly, and completely.
So when she wasn't doing well, I dared not say, I felt in my heart she was going home soon. I truly wanted her to be healed, but I also wanted Madeleine to be healed. I braced myself for the flood of emotions. It always strikes me deep in my heart when another child passes; I also cry when these kids have triumphs and milestones they meet, thriving. I'm still so tied up and twisted in my emotions over my own daughter, how could I possibly keep my mind right for others? Each child is special; there are some that are especially special. Which is why I was devastated in April, when SARAH went home, or last December when HAYDEN took her last breath. And why I was so heartbroken and tears flowed like rain yesterday for TALIA. I didn't personally know these girls, had never met them, BUT I LOVED THEM. At the same time, Jeff brought up a very good point: am I truly mourning their death, or am I reliving the anguish of Madeleine each time? It could be both. Because these times of deeply emotional feelings are not to be personalized, it is not about me, or you. It's about that child, that family. And yet I still pray for myself when I pray for them. I hope that doesn't make me a terrible, self-centered person. I think - I hope - it's just a still brokenhearted mother missing her own child. And having lived through that once, I deserve to never live it again. Yet that's what I'm doing to myself. I can love them and admire them and cheer them on from the sideline to have faith, have hope, and fight for the cure till there is one. But I can't love them all like MADELEINE.
The neighbor across the street had a beautiful, full, leafy green tree a few months ago. I was aghast when walking my dog I saw him cutting the tree off completely. The entire fullness of the tree was gone. All that was left were what looked like tall stumps for branches. Bare. Vulnerable. Colorless. I thought for sure that tree would die. There was far too much of that tree cut away to survive. Today, and only today for some reason, I noticed that tree. Lush. Green. Healthy. I realized that one day, I too will be full again. My branches will grow and restore to be healthy again. There may or may not be any sign of this period in my life when I felt like I would die, when I felt bare, vulnerable, colorless, hopeless. I may be an amputee now, missing a huge part of my heart that I have always worn on my sleeve, sometimes to a detriment, but one day I will appear whole.
God Bless Talia Joy, may Jesus hold you close with Madeleine in the kingdom.
