Willem's dying body lay in my arms and I find joy in running my fingers through his hair and he speaks to me. I smile and find an immeasurable amount of joy in realizing that, hey, Willem isn't dying after all; he's got long hair where once he had none. He's getting better! There's hope again and my boy will be fine!
And then I awaken. I awaken with the taste of joy still fresh on my tongue and the horribly bitter taste of reality quickly follows.
One deep sigh and a small tear in its wake.
Monday, May 21, 2012... I want so badly for my heart to fail -- anything -- I do not wish to live.
But I have to. I have to.
Willem -- only days before he was stricken with HLH -- leisurely walking, straw in mouth, not a care in the world. A healthy 9 year old boy.
"Every death is a wake up call to live"
ReplyDeleteOprah to Shania Twain
One day I turned the television on and those were the words I heard--and needed to hear.