Any Given Day

Each new day, any given day, holds so much. I try desperately to look for the blessings, the sweet miracle of the day, the messages, the signs, the beauty, the love. It's all there. By looking for it, I hold myself together. I couldn't show up for LIFE if not for the beauty, the legacy of her life, my life, the lives of those I LOVE. But, still, I feel myself falling, descending, if you will, into some sort of pit. I carry the cloak of grief a little tighter when I desperately want to shed it. It's choking me some minutes, it's wrapping me as though it is a cocoon I cannot crawl out of, the next. It isn't very gentle right now, and I suppose that is because of what each new day represents.

In spite of the beauty of autumn, it is the season of grief. It is when we lost her, but we didn't know it. It is that time of year when there was so much to hear, digest, and respond to, and even before we could do any of it, there was more. There was always more. Always. Each new day held so much meaning. And while I am willing those memories to be part of a very distant past, they are too close. They are in the Halloween preparations, they are in the falling amber leaves, they are in brisk walks with our beloved, Rex, and they are in this house, in the form of chili cooking and sounds of laughter when friends gathered that "last" Halloween to play games. She couldn't sit. She couldn't stand. She was weak with pain moving down her spine and around her body. I was weak, looking at her, as she clutched her abdomen, her weight loss so evident and her skin color changing. It was a devastating time, we barely knew what cancer would come to mean, yet, there we were, facing each new day. Please God, I have begged today, let me remember her as a little girl, dressing up, trick-or-treating, going to church parties, and later, school parties, then teen-aged parties. Let me remember the other days. Let this be like any given day.

I am still pretty amazed at what each new day holds for people. As some of us are in constricting pain, others are going about life as if there is not a care in the world. Other days, we are the ones holding parties, or celebrations, humming tunes, dancing, feeling light hearted, and the others are the ones in hospital rooms, holding hands of their loved ones, or holding funeral services, or waiting for a doctor to call. A baby is being born right now, while loved ones are saying good-bye to someone dear. It's life. It's good. It's hard. Through it all, it is what it is. And, on any given day, it all changes.

I remember so vividly coming home from the hospital after Allison took her last breath. The sun that had illuminated her room with vibrancy at precisely 7:00 a.m. had made way for the grayest of days. My nose pressed to the cold window of the car, I looked in the cars we passed, or who passed us. I saw serious faces, ones singing to the radio, groups of what appeared to be students on their way to high school, or others on the way to work. I remember thinking that not one of them could imagine what we had just come to know. But I wasn't correct about that. They did know. And if they didn't know, someday, they might. It's not that I wished it upon them, it just seemed odd to me, that I was about to go home and plan a memorial service for my daughter, when I should be going about my "normal" day. I should be the one driving to work on that very road, coming home to cook dinner, waiting to touch base with both my daughters. On that given day, my world would change, and I would never know how much.

Each new day brings what it will, what it does, and in some ways, that's what makes each new day so beautiful. There is a lot to enjoy. There is much to be celebrated and honored. The little things seem so monumental now, and the problems seem so trite. I never believed I would be here for so many new days once Allison was gone. I knew I would die of heartache. As much as this "season" is difficult to maneuver through, I am thankful I didn't die as I thought I might. I would miss so much, mostly spending life with Jennifer, Joe, and all those I love. Each new day holds a promise of some sort. I look up and ask God, and Allison, to help me live it in a way that is pleasing, and as the descent comes upon me, and the pain of missing her becomes too unbearable, I don't look back, and I don't look ahead. I stay right where I am, expecting or anticipating nothing, just being where I am supposed to be on this new day. Any day we are "given" brings about so much, from pain, to joy, from love, to sorrow, but worth it? Yes, any given day is all we have, for now.