Monday - August 10, 2009
Unspeakable - June 2009
It was beautiful and inspiring, as we watched 15-year-old Sarah complete her freshman high school year with High Honors and Student Achievement awards and perform in end-of-school concerts. Rewarding, as we witnessed our Rotary exchange student Tina Danila go through commencement at Ipswich High School and say good-bye to 10 enriching months of life in America.
At the same time, this season was difficult, as we shared a week of 'Bright Happy Power' community service projects carried out by Jessie's classmates at Winthrop Elementary, and attended some of the 'graduation' celebrations that her 5th grade peers enjoyed as they transition into middle school. Her classmates included Jessie on the class t-shirt and yearbook. We won't try to describe how much we loved being among her classmates and watching with pride as they grow up and bring Jessie with them in memory and deed, or tell you how every breath hurt at the same time, because Jessie wasn't among them.
It was beautiful and inspiring, as we watched 15-year-old Sarah complete her freshman high school year with High Honors and Student Achievement awards and perform in end-of-school concerts. Rewarding, as we witnessed our Rotary exchange student Tina Danila go through commencement at Ipswich High School and say good-bye to 10 enriching months of life in America.
At the same time, this season was difficult, as we shared a week of 'Bright Happy Power' community service projects carried out by Jessie's classmates at Winthrop Elementary, and attended some of the 'graduation' celebrations that her 5th grade peers enjoyed as they transition into middle school. Her classmates included Jessie on the class t-shirt and yearbook. We won't try to describe how much we loved being among her classmates and watching with pride as they grow up and bring Jessie with them in memory and deed, or tell you how every breath hurt at the same time, because Jessie wasn't among them.
June - for all of us in Massachusetts -- was full of rain and clouds. Soggy and dark. Not the summer of our hopes and promises. Not the healing, benevolent season of heat and sunshine that we wished for. Gardens and farms were challenged. Weeds flourished, but other crops faltered. Rivers rose high again. People were anxious to get outside and feel some sunshine.
And what was the lesson for New Englanders? The same one we have learned every year. Not so different from what we have discovered as we lived with cancer, and now live with the grief of Jessie's passing, and yet find daily happiness in our lives together as a family, and as members of this commuity.
Life cannot stop, just because of bad weather and gloomy forecasts. If we wait for the perfect climate or temperature, we'll wait forever, and nothing will get done. Life will roll along, and we'll still be waiting. Life is what happens in the storms and the downpours, in the clement and inclement, in the humid sunny hours and the cold chilly ones, too. It's what happens all the time, regardless of the forecast.
And so...if we wait for perfect weather and timing, we'll just wait. Instead, we put on layers, bring the rain gear, and hope for some sunshine. We go. We do. We have to make plans and keep going, rain or shine. Because life is now. Here.
In June, we held a bike ride called Coast of Hope. Cyclists rode courses that ranged in distance from 12 to 75 miles. 68 people rode. 46 registered in advance, 22 signed up on the day of the ride. The youngest rider was 10 years old, a close childhood friend of Jessie's. Our 15-year-old daughter Sarah volunteered all day at the ride, since she was just out of the cast for her broken ankle (she's training now to ride in the August PMC with her dad, in memory of her little sister Jessie). We raised over $10,500 for programs that will help children and families living with childhood cancer, life-threatening illnesses or other catastrophic challenges.
Planning for the ride, we were asked if we'd postpone it, due to rain? We paused. Considered. And said, "We'll ride, rain or shine." There's no chance of re-organizing and regaining momentum. "We'll just go for it."
So we planned for rain...just in case. But we believed in the possibility of sunshine. And sure enough, the sun came out. More people signed up. And we raised funds. And we had a great time. And even if it had rained...we would have ridden. And raised funds. And had a great time.
Life didn't stop in 2001 because Jessie was diagnosed with cancer. It didn't stop when she almost died in the first 10 days of treatment. Or in the first two years of treatment, or with every new infection, or the surgeries that altered her body, or the radiation or the chemo. Life didn't stop...or suddenly resume...when her hair grew back and she got strong again and returned to school at Winthrop. It didn't pause and fast-forward when treatment ended. Or rewind or stop or pause when she relapsed in 2005. Or again in 2007. Life continued, as we traveled, as she learned to read, as she played soccer and took dance and swim lessons and earned a purple belt in karate and ran lemonade stands and attended her 'Big 2-3'class for as long as possible. Life didn't end when she entered transplant, or ICU.
Jessie's mortal life ended, yes, when her lungs and heart couldn't beat anymore. And some part of each of us was changed and hurt...forever...by her passage.
At the same time, we all took deep breaths, and held them, and pay more attention...now...because we had the chance to know Jessie.
Our lives continue. And we are capable of deep happiness. And commitment to projects and causes beyond our own lives. And loving each other. But also of getting annoyed by small things, and forgetting what matters most. Or being too tired or sad or stressed or overwhelmed to be 'present' and engaged by those around us. On the other hand, we're also capable of sitting down at the dinner table together, saying grace, listening to dad's motivational quote of the day, answering his daily question about "What's one new thing you learned today?" and talking to each other.
Rain or shine, grief or joy, we connect and touch each other. We don't always do it well or perfectly. And okay, sometimes we resort to emails or text messages, or shouting through closed doors or up the stairs, or notes jotted on index cards and napkins...but we find each other. And we're all here. Together. Finding our way. Sometimes gracefully. Sometimes messily.
Rain or shine: this is life. This is what we have been given. And we're bound to remember...not everyone gets this chance...so let's use it as well as we can. Don't wait for the good forecast...you may not get it. Life is what happens in the deep hours of the night and the waking hours of the day...regardless of the weather.
This June, it rained a lot. And yet...we lived. Imperfectly. Messily. Happily. Unhappily. Grumpily. Busily. Ambitiously. Dreamily. Hopefully.
The journey continues.