And So It Begins…

I said a while back that I think the reason I started this blog was to process some issues around C’s illness four years ago. Already it has helped. The anniversary is about a month away and I’m mostly okay. I’m not deeply angry like I was last year at this time. But I am not my usual self, either. For example, I’m somewhat paralyzed in my ability to complete simple tasks (such as laundry). I’m very forgetful, too.

I’d been ignoring this, telling myself that I was okay, and even a little smug in that denial. Blaming the forgetfulness and non-completion of tasks and other things on the general chaos of life, and so on. Until today, that is. Clearly there are still emotions to be processed.

I was sitting in church, and it was packed (Father B’s last service). A bit of a send-off was planned, and the junior choir - of which C is a member - was set to sing earlier in the service than usual. As the first notes of the piano began, I looked up to the choir loft, saw C open his mouth to sing – and the tears started rolling.

He is alive.

He’s breathing, walking, talking.

Singing.

I just don’t know where to begin to express how thankful I feel for that. For C and for all my family to be healthy and thriving. It’s so much.

My friend M, sitting two pews ahead of me with her brood, looked back and saw me dab my eyes. I met M after C was sick and she’s been a good friend. Last spring we were helping each other through anger and tears, though from very different sources.

M mouthed, “Are you okay?”

I nodded and mouthed back, “It’s just that time of year.”