More grieving

Time to grieve some more. I went to a therapist who said it was better to cry thoroughly once in a while than to bottle it up. As I weep for you both I'm also awed that I should be privileged to call you mine. It also feels like I get to see Eternity from the future, in a way. We usually only get to think about our ancestors in Heaven. Love you both so much and am happy you are both well and strong again. Love, Mummy

Larissa's Journey

WOW! It took some doing to get back into my old blog. I hope it's okay to continue with this one, even though the name should probably be changed. 1 month ago today my second child, my oldest, also succumbed to cancer, at age 41. She leaves behind a beautiful, vivacious, imaginative and bright 6-year old daughter, Violet. I've been sleeping on the couch in her apartment since November and I know I was able to help her hang on longer than if I hadn't come but it's still a devastating blow. We were so SURE she would beat it! We listened to The Secret every day - sometimes several times a day - and were gradually getting her diet switched to Paleo to starve out the cancer but it was a classic tale of "too little, too late" and her body just gave out. Not without a fight, mind you, but now we know she was dying while we thought she was getting better. Through this journey I have met a lot of wonderful, supportive, loving friends of hers. She really impacted everyone she met in a powerful way. I had some really clever things I wanted to say on here but they seem to have flown my mind. Ah, well. Perhaps I'll try again another day.

Another fade

Today George's obituary guest book page expired. I've kept it going for 3 years just because . . . and now it's time to let it go. Soon it will be his yahoo email, then, who knows? It's natural & necessary, but still tender. I was reminded how good a man he was in some mail that came yesterday. His presence is still strong at times & I rarely tear up anymore, but I hate that it's all fading, if only because I must go on. Then I remember other friends who have lost children and wonder how I can be so self-serving. It's all so confusing at times. Love you, Gingle. Hope you're having fun "up" there.

Three Years Ago Today

I haven't posted since last June! Guess we really do move on and I know your big heart is glad for me. I'm not sure if I even mind, myself. I drove down to SLC from Bend today to add to Livvie's flowers & play "Endless Sky" for you. I'll be spending time with Liv tomorrow & Saturday (she's on a date tonight - I'm sure that pleases you :-) ). Then I'll make the long drive home feeling the pilgrimage was as it should have been. You were with me for a few moments today but I sense you're fully occupied where you are. Thanks for taking time to stop by. I love you! Tablet won't let me add a photo of your flowers. I'll do it when I get home.

Muffin's fight begins

I didn't expect to be so distressed during Larissa's first chemotherapy session, yesterday. The thought railroaded into my brain that, "They're poisoning my baby" & I just couldn't shake it. Finally I sat out in the sun on my lunch break & took out my knitting. Within minutes I was calm and at peace. Then I remembered that knitting was the only thing I could do after you left us. Something about the process, the motion, the gradually growing piece, perhaps the fond memories of past projects, I don't know; it just works - for me, anyway.

She's strong & will make it; I just wish she didn't have to. I commented on her Facebook page that I would gladly take this from her, but maybe I would just be helping a butterfly out of its coccoon.

Found my old diary; opened to a random page and got this from April 4th, 2010:

". . . the thought came to me that Heavenly Father doesn't always ask us to do what we think we can, sometimes He asks us to do what we know we can't. That's how He gets to touch and strengthen our lives."

Another wound has opened

Just as I felt myself passing another round of healing from your loss a new wound opens up. Our beloved Muffin has been diagnosed with breast cancer and faces surgery, possibly combined with radiation & chemotherapy. Unlike your case, her chances of survival are good - in the 90% range - but the blow is starting to sink me. She seems to be holding up well, and we WILL get through this; I just wish we didn't have to :-(

The caption for this picture reads, "The only thing that matters". For her that is one person; for me it is two. Thank you for being where you are, watching over us and walking beside us in your kind, gentle way.