There's no question 2020 has been a terrible year for our family in so many ways. While I look back and try to look forward I feel like a little girl, at the top of the ladder that lined the Kiva in our backyard, afraid to look back in fear I might get off balance and fall backward on my head, afraid to climb completely off the ladder in fear that my leg will get caught and I'll get pulled back in. Death, pain, heart ache, fear, uncertainty still have me wrapped around the axel. We've done things this year, I didn't realize we had the strength to endure as a family but we've also done some things I've never imagined in my worst nightmare I would ever have to endure. How do we move on? How do I move on? We are still smack dab in the middle. Where is the hope? Where is faith? What is hope? What is faith? Is this all mortality? Is that all a test? Is this really what we signed up for or did we even sign up? Somedays, my mind is so cloudy I wonder if I'll ever sift though the thick fog and see light again. And then the strange juxtiposition is that there is light. There has been a lot of light. There is hope. There has been a lot of hope. There have been angels, so many angels. Miracles, too many to count. And yet with hope, surrounded by angels and in the middle of so many miracles, I hesitate to look back and I'm paralyzed, unable to move forward. I hate that I have a memory of calling Tommy on July 22nd as a phone was placed to his ear on his nearly lifeless body as we said what we thought were our last words to him. I'm wrecked by images of him in my mind of his body so weak and the pain and angish he's experienced and still experiencing. That pain, that anguish, that heart break is undescribable and unbarable. It's too much. Countless miracles between the present and the past have come and our present is different and yet, the memories and the pain are still very real. It's too much to take samples from your cheeks in hopes that something in your body can save your younger brother. It's too much to wear a bracelet with the cancer color around your wrist. It's to have strangers call who are so saddened by your brother's diagnosis. It's too much to try to stay positive, faithful, hopeful. It's too much to CRY out and to SCREAM prayers you never thought you'd pray. It's all too much! It's too much to realize that the strongest man you've ever known is on the brink of death. It's too much to think of parents, siblings, a wife, three little darling daughters, neices and nephews without the man they love and need so much. So much doesn't line up with the typical words we've been told our whole life. I can't get there. Will the pain just melt away gradually? Is it here to stay? We're eating now. We're sleeping now. The sound of Facebook Message notifications on my phone doesn't leave me completely gutted. But now what? We wait. We wait. We wait. Trying to decide to if it's ok to attempt to take one final step to the last prong on the ladder and get out of the hole. And realizing that the hole is in my heart. One thing I have no doubt about from past to present - we need Tommy's eyes. We need Tommy's smile. We need Tommy's strength. We need Tommy's way of making everything ok when the waves are crashing. We need his hugs. We need his kisses. We need his gentle massages. We need more time to learn lessons from his compassion. Oh the hole and the ladder. I think we'll all rest on the ladder for a while longer and I'm afraid the hole will always be there.
