There are so many wonderful things about the dawning of a new year, the chance to gain a fresh start, make plans, dream big, set goals, plan to do things differently and better...the list goes on. I don't make any resolutions any longer, most of them never came to fruition anyway, so I just take it as it comes, and live the day the Lord has made for me. As the new year approaches, now there is new significance. I wish it were not so, but the first week of the new year was the last week of Allison's 21 years. January first was our last day of innocence when it came to cancer, but not our last day of hope and miracles. We lost our innocence the morning of the 2nd when her doctor shared that her body would not respond to treatments of any kind, any longer. We spent that day absorbing the shock, the news, the revelation that cancer was taking over and moving fast. I think I am still absorbing that shock, and try as I might, the moments beginning December 30, when she entered the hospital for what became the final time, are being replayed in my head. I want to turn down the volume, the intensity, the raging sorrow, and I want to capture that beautiful moment on January 9, at 7:00 a.m., when the multi colored sunbeams entered the room, and Allison Haake took her final breath. What joy we felt that she was at peace and that God above had answered the prayers that were cried out all night long...we knew at that infinite moment that God heard us and took her home. This comfort is our saving grace, but it doesn't take away the pain and suffering of loss and grief. When all these moments come hurling at me, in my memory, I just pray to God that He will get me through this moment, to the next one, and help me to remember that where she is, she has no recollection of the pain and suffering, that God gave her the greatest gift by making her so special that He brought her through and gave her the miracle she so longed for...the gift of eternal life in His kingdom. There is no reason for me to dwell on the painful memories, the times where news was not what we hoped or planned for, there is no reason to replay the details that have yet to be shared, that are so deeply personal that only Joe, Jennifer, and I share them with a heavenly father. Still, I cannot stop my inner self at times, my mind from going there. I resist it, I don't want to replay those days and minutes, yet I do. For when I do, I remember the spirit and determination and faith of a young lady who spent the day on January 2nd, sequestered with just her family, adjusting to the news, then announcing that we were done crying and that we would rise above this. Then she prepared herself to live in sweet eternity, leaving us the spirit to live for ourselves, for her, for each other, and for God.
As my emotions rage in many ways, and I anticipate a New Year's Eve with dear friends and my sister and Michael, and of course, Joe, I will recall the last one she spent, encouraging her sister to go out and do what would be "normal", and then ordering pizza with a room filled with friends in the hospital, toasting one another, laughing, coloring pictures, having a party like no other. Nine days later, there she was, finished with her work in this life, preparing to teach us all the lessons that never stop, always flow, and will be with us in every breath we take as a family, willing and ready to leave her earthly body for her heavenly home. Yes, these days are grueling, my heart is broken, yet the joy of God above and all His infinite wisdom settles me a bit, and gives the promise of light and love.
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