It’s been difficult to write. It’s hard to come here with what is honest. These photos show some joy and normalcy in the storm. Please know these moments exist too.
In the past few weeks Elsa turned 9. She was supported and loved by so many people. Friends hosted her party, grandparents came, the sun shone and Andy was able to make it to celebrate with her for a couple of hours. She is a glorious girl whose light shines for us even in dark times. We rest in the fact that her spark will illuminate her own path as she grows through all that is beautiful and hard in this life.
And the last month has been full of dedicated play practice for our two. Daily they have gone to Viroqua with a kind and loving friend to put in hours on the stage readying for the big weekend, which is now. I have not seen a wink of it all aside from a few photos sent by friends. I hope to attend the final performance this afternoon to support these hardworking actors!
Andy and I stay home each day. Hours are filled with chores and naps and visits from many friends and family. As you might imagine some days (and nights) are harder than others. We work daily to manage Andy’s discomfort, to provide him restful spaces, to temper our grief by staying in each moment. Andy is on oxygen to help with his breathing, he takes pain medication around the clock, he struggles to eat well, and sleep well and often feels restless. He continues to receive immunotherapy treatment at Mayo, with a scan coming up again in a few weeks. We are unsure what that will bring. We have frequent and difficult conversations with each other, with the girls, with our parents and friends. These conversations bring clarity and relief and loads of sadness.
We have no idea how to do this. We fumble through with as much strength and grace as we can muster. Sometimes that looks like these photos and sometimes it looks like a gaping big hole of darkness. We are not alone though. Not by a long shot. Everyday we are surrounded by the love and support of this dearest community. There is always food in our fridge, someone to stay the night if we need, rides everywhere for the girls, lawn mowed, shoulders to cry on and plenty of moments of light and laughter too.
We’ve made a bed on the porch for Andy and he spends hours outdoors soaking in the beauty of this amazing life. Because, like every spring, the bobolinks and wrens fill the mornings with their persistent songs, the apples burst forth with blooms and bees and hummingbirds, and the fresh promise of nature’s renewal fills us with hope.
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