Glorious Weekend

On this most glorious of all weekends, weather-wise, at least, I am reflective in my heart. Four years. Four years ago yesterday that we drove to Chicago to visit Allison in the hospital with plans to bring her home to recuperate from pneumonia. Four incredibly, long, yet short years. We packed a weekend bag and headed out on the very same type of glorious weekend, weather-wise, at least. We stayed almost two weeks and what we learned in those two weeks, every day, practically every hour took our breath away. Took OUR breath away, figuratively. Took HERS away, literally.

She was struggling to breathe. Her lungs were drained. She was on antibiotics for pneumonia, but all along, there it was, a tiny mass at first, until the picture, until the biopsy, and then it became much more. So much more. The raging cancer would take her from us in eleven weeks. She WOULD become the statistic of lung cancer, even though we never chose to believe she would. How could she? She was healthy, vibrant, a virtual non-smoker, and anyway, these things don't happen to us, to this family...or do they?

On a glorious weekend, weather-wise, at least, our world shifted and we were never intended to be the same. The crisp mornings, warm afternoons, chilly evenings now represent so much more, and with each turning tree, falling leaf, there it is...the memories, the diagnosis, the pain, the treatments, the no known cure. There it is, and there it was, and here we are. And I can honestly say, that in the beginning, I would never have believed that I would sit here, four years into this, four years of learning to maneuver a life that was numb and seemed to have no course of action, no light, no joy, no laughter. But that has changed. God has seen to that, and has used Allison to help me see to it, too.

It's a glorious weekend, weather-wise, at least. It's a glorious life, if we find our own true driven purpose from the loss, the pain, the devastaion, the loneliness. It doesn't come easily and it doesn't come with no cost. The suffering brings on a new meaning to life, and even brings on a gratefulness of the heart, that is, when I can stay focused and thankful. I get to choose gratitude. I get to thank God for the 21 years we had with Allison, and even the eleven weeks, for now, I can capture glimpses of those glorious days, days spent in talking, planning, understanding and growing. I get to be thankful that my pain must be only a shadow of the suffering she endured as a cancer warrior, as the brave soul who went into battle every day. I tell myself, so often, that I DON'T need to remember and remind myself of the time she "suffered" while here. I remind myself that where she is there is no pain, no sadness, no illness, no time, only freedom and glorious weekends. She sits at the hand of God, now, and while I cannot help but feel autumn in my heart, to my core, I know that life continues in the ever present circle God intended. Babies are born, Mason, and Mylah, and Maria and those too numerous to mention. Lives are lived. We capture moments. We try and we remain strong, and I ask God to know my heart when I don't know it myself. My heart cries, yet no tears come from my eyes. I don't know whether I am coming or going, or how we even got to October, but we did. We went places, saw things, experienced joys, found laughter, and I am beginning to learn how to dance with the cloak of grief.

It is a glorious weekend, weather-wise, and it is October and it holds too much to bear, at times. Then again, I am reminded of a spirit who has become my mentor, my guide, who never leaves me, my daughter whom I carried under my heart. I am reminded that God the Father looks at me as His child, not an adult, not a grown up with all the answers, but a child who will always need His guidance, love, mercy and grace. I am reminded that I have a choice, I can coil up and retreat, ignore the sounds of the children playing outside, pass up the opportunities that lie before me, miss out on the merriment of the lives of those I love. I will not take this lying down, I will be that warrior that Allison was, and is, I will find a way to my own light and shine it when I can. I will be all I can be as her mother.

It IS a glorious weekend, weather-wise, and all ways. All I am promised is right now, this day, this moment, and I affirm that I will do my best to seize it, remember with whatever conviction of the heart that comes my way, and move in a way that is pleasing and beautiful. I long to make this a glorious life, as I honor the one that left before me, my baby, my child.