Although it was three years ago that we received Celia's diagnosis, our lives are not neatly divided into before and after, there's not one day when a bomb hit and everything changed. It was a slow circling of the drain -- knowing something was wrong, realizing how very wrong it was, watching her spiral downward. To borrow from Hemingway, it happened “gradually and then suddenly.”
It used to feel like the earth was bobbing and weaving beneath our feet, spinning, and dragging us along with it. There was a period of time when a good investment meant no longer contributing to her 529 but instead purchasing big sunglasses to hide the tears in public.
Today there is not nearly as much misery attendant to her condition, another development that seems to have occurred gradually and then suddenly. We know, now, that sorrow can be the parent of joy we never imagined. We credit her with the redirection of our outlook, but it's also due, in large part, to her brothers. This one certainly offers an awesome example of radical optimism for all of us.
3 comments:
Something truly remarkable is the beauty that your words weave in the depths you are forced to swim.
"...a slow circling of the drain..."
The Hemingway quote; perfect.
"...sorrow can be the parent of joy we never imagined..."
Not to mention the beauty that is Celia and her brothers and their relationship and yours - the warmth that pours out of your house, even by computer screen.
Obviously, none of this deadens the pain or erases or removes it. If only.
But there is a richness and meaning to your lives that I think many, many, many would envy - even if they don't want to pay the price that you have to get there. No one would pay it if they weren't forced, obviously.
You are so very much on the minds of people who have come to care about you, even strangers in Missouri.
Thank you for writing through this,
Cathy in Missouri
"An artist is someone who suffers and creates.
A critic is the same except he neither suffers nor creates."
Kierkegaard
Hello. I am Breena, Zekey's mom who joined you and many others last year at the 2013 Celia's walk. We wore our red shirts and I just so wish I could have met you. I'm reading your blog and I get it. I get it on so many levels and so thankful that you share so much of your life so I feel like there whose heart was where mine is now.
Your daughter was so beautiful. Her hair, smile, I can just imagine the personality she shared with you in the life she lived.
I feel we are nearing the end. I sense early springtime may be our last. I am sad. So very sad but I cling to the Hope of where my sweet boy will be someday. In the arms of Jesus and maybe even be greeted by your sweet Celia where she will show Zeke all the things he can do again!
Blessings and you are on my heart and in my prayers.
Bree from BreeLoverly.blogspot.com where I, too, share our story in loosing our son.
I apologize for the missing words and grammatical errors in above comment...my eyes were flooded with tears while writing. :)
Bree
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