Tuesday, December 9, 2008

My Family

As I think about the events that have transpired over the past few months, I find it a little hard to put into words. Everything has turned into memory.
It is strange what goes through the mind when it's trying to sort out these things.

At first I wasn't sure that I could do this -- write about it -- and perhaps I can't. But momentarily my heart drives me in this direction as I am renewed with the notion that this will somehow help. Writing it down. Keeping track. Eventually I might lose focus so it seems necessary to put pen to paper.

Right now my heart screams for help. And no matter how hard that seems I will give it whatever it wants. My brain on the other hand is doing something different: Contemplating. Remembering. Avoiding. Sharing. It has a mind of its own.

The thing we think about -- and write about -- it has no idea. My liver performs its own duties as well as it can and when it runs into a wall it finds other ways to function. Consequently I get sick.

As I find myself learning new things about myself. I realize that I have to remember to move forward. There are dishes that need to be washed, and floors to vacuum and laundry to fold. There are Christmas decorations to put up. There is homework that needs checked. Exercise. But more importantly there is my family to love.

My family has been beautiful. They have been wonderful. Sometimes it is easy to forget that I am not alone in this. And every so often I will make that mistake only to be reeled back to my senses when my wife tells me something one of my daughters have said or done. It always chokes me up.

My youngest prays a lot. And lately I am beginning to wonder if she's trying to make a deal with God. For me. And when she's not doing that she will act out in the strangest ways. Normal. Human. Ways. I will hit my sister. I will fall down and cry. I will be absolutely beautiful and act like an angel. Those kind of strange ways.

The oldest is always so quiet and she keeps to herself. She seems indifferent and yet she'll call home and ask her mom if I am all right.

My wife...My wife is my rock. But I see her when she's cried. I look at her anguish. Her smile. Her smile covers her anguish.

I know that this is hard for all of us. But I have prayer and faith. Together we all have prayer and faith.


  1. I think it's beautiful that you're writing. What a gift.

    Sometimes it's easier to focus on the normal.

  2. You are so right. We sometimes forget how our illnesses affect those we love and who love us. I am glad that you are writing things down. This will be an important gift to your daughters when they are older. They deserve to understand your illness from your personal perspective. I know that it's sometimes very hard to write about it, so do it while the words feel right.