Winship 5k

This coming Saturday is the Winship 5k.  

As I was thinking about the walk. 

I realized the first year we did it ,

 Graham was just  nine months old. 

This will be our 8th year  participating. 

The first year we did it ,I pushed him in the stroller.

And just last week he told me he wants to run it.  

Time flies. 

We Keep Swimming. 

I came across the words below that I wrote two years ago. 

I am grateful for them. 

They remind me how far I have come,

 but also remind me of the special place ,

Winship was to me and Mike .

As I reread what I had written two years ago,

I  could feel the the weight of grief I felt that  fall day,

 sitting in the healing Garden at Winship.  

The fall air feels like Mike and Jake's birthday to me. 

And this particular day it was making me so sad. 

In my loss of where to be or what to do, 

the truck must have driven me to Winship on autopilot,

as I tried to feel close to him. 

After sitting for a while and writing in the garden, 

I remember I stood up , 

went to Mike’s truck .

Next I drove to get a tattoo at 11 :30am that Friday. 

Tattoo parlors are not exactly on mom schedules ,

and it didn’t open until 12. 

I  still waited. 

Wow. 

Grief will really make you do things out of your element. lol

The tattoo simply says …

surrender. 

I remember that day thinking I have to surrender to this new life. 

I have to let go. 

I have to stop gripping and searching for him. 

I have to surrender to this new life. 

Every single morning.

 I have to surrender. 

I feel like this time of year continues to have me searching for Mike. 

Making me want him back. 

To celebrate his birthday with him and bluebell Vanilla ice cream and brownies. 

Wanting him back at the kids sporting events, 

Or helping me purchase  an iPhone for Jake …..

yes I am finally giving in. 

The fall air makes me miss him. 

I look at my spontaneous grief tattoos 

that I am not sure if I regret yet or not.ha 

But I am grateful for the reminders….

To surrender.

To keep swimming.

To keep fighting like Mike,

And trusting God with the rest. 

When Scott and Ashley text me this week to thank us for 

signing up and participating yet again, I wrote them back….

Part of my heart will always live at Winship and 

I will always be grateful for the love that the nurses, 

doctors and people there shared with us .

This place taught me ….

love is the remedy. 

If you want to join us this weekend here is the link to sign up for the Leukidiators. 

Dr Arellano and Dr Kota were two special angels here on earth who guided me and Mike through the hardest days of my life. They will always hold a special place in my heart and I hope I am able to support their efforts to beat cancer for as long as I live. 

https://secure2.convio.net/emory/site/TR/Win5K/Winship5k/1503760949?pg=team&fr_id=1340&team_id=7376

The kids and I contiue to be grateful every day for al lyou do that keeps us swimming. I am humbled and so grateful. It takes a village and I am so thankful for ours.

September 23, 2022

Dear You, 

I came to the healing garden at Winship today. 

I have missed you so.  

I had to park at the top of the deck.

It is a busy Friday here.  

As I got out of the truck , 

A memory flashed through my mind

when I came here to meet you one afternoon for treatment. 

It was the only other time ,

I have ever been to the very top of the deck. 

You were here already. 

You were “ well “ for a cancer patient,

back at work and had already been to work that morning. 

You came for a mid day chemo cocktail

 and then were headed back to the dealership. 

 I came to keep you company but were busy on your laptop.  

Working away. 

I didn’t care. 

I just wanted to be close to you. 

And maybe that’s why I came today. 

I want to be close to you  .

I felt the closest to you during 

the days and years of you being sick.

I miss those days desperately. 

What a paradox life is.

Our hardest days were my favorite  days. 

Cancer made perspective blinding. 

Life was finally clear. 

I wanted to be close to you and take care of you. 

Or close to the kids. 

And our family and friends. 

But today I am lost. 

Lost. 

I’m not sure where God is leading me. 

I know my days taking care of you are over. 

 But something keeps calling me here. 

To Winship. 

To the hospital where I had purpose.  

I remember a day after your transplant. 

It had been a long grueling three weeks. 

And I was so overly  exhausted and everyone knew it but me.  

I  did not listen to anyone who told me to go home and rest. 

I remember this day ,well it was actually a Sunday night.

You decided you could walk further than just the laps around the hall. 

And so we ventured out into the  lobby 

and walked all the way across the bridge .

Making our way over Clifton rd to the Winship side. 

 Everything was under construction. 

It was quiet. 

As the weekends often are at the hospital. 

And we walked. 

Not another soul in site. 

Just the two of us. 

You holding one hand on your IV pole 

 and one hand in mind. 

I remember this feeling came over me that I had all I ever needed

  And yet this sinking feeling that followed , 

knowing that it was slipping through my fingers. 

Today I sit on this bench In Winships healing garden.

 I am watching the  mini waterfall  flowing  in front of me.

The water flows over the wall and lands into a concrete base of rocks and pennies. 

How many  wishes and prayers for healing, have been thrown into there?

I know I tossed my fair share in there over the years we spent here. 

I am so scared… please let him be ok …. 

I would beg with each one. 

The words inscribed on the bench  I am sitting read…. 

“ may those who sit here find peace in their hearts and love in this world.” 

I sit …

Praying for the peace the bench  hopes to provide.

I look past the waterfall into the 2nd floor windows of exam rooms.

I can still feel the weight of your weak body , resting up against my shoulder. 

We spent countless hours during the months prior and following your transplant

Sitting in those cold turquoise chairs. 

Where angels disguised as nurses loved on you. 

 They would call you Mr Thames ,when you were wearing a shirt and tie.

 And Mr Mike , if you were in your comfy clothes and Allbirds. 

They would draw your blood and read your labs.

 I miss that. 

I miss this unhurried time we had together.

Simply waiting.  

We would wait in these rooms, 

with anxious hearts - 

well I was anxious , you were not. 

Would you need a blood transfusion ?

Making our visit longer?

Were you strong enough for more chemo?

 Or did we need to wait?

 More platelets?

Or not today?  

Or whether your prograf level was too high. 

Or if your donor cells were 100 per cent. 

We surrendered to the results of your blood that day. 

This place. 

Winship.

This building holds memories 

of sacred years of my life 

when time stood still .

But in the  very next breath, 

I would say, 

time also could not be stopped. 

Like this water flowing. 

These years

gave my life meaning. 

Perspective. 

Purpose. 

These memories taught me 

that all we have is love. 

That all that matters is love.

That love is always the remedy.

The sadness. 

Joy. 

Hope.

Despair.

Is palpable in the walls of this sacred space. 

The stories of the lives of people who walk these floors. 

If only walls could talk. 

These people . 

Want nothing but more time. 

More time to love. 

And yet it slipping though your fingers .

As fast as the water flowing from the waterfall in front of me.

Can we surrender?

As I tried to do that night holding your hand.  

You can not grasp it. 

You have to let it go. 

It feels impossible. 

Like this water. 

Life keeps moving. 

Have you ever tried to grip water.

I have to let go and ….

keep swimming with the current. 

You never did grip what time you had left, Mike. 

You let go. 

And you lived for the single moment you were in.

You surrendered. 

I don’t belong here, anymore. 

Not in the way I did when I was with you.

And I wonder what is next. 

How will you and  God guide me? 

I trust you will.

Today it feels like God is telling me to 

Surrender. 

I know I have to accept it. 

But I am struggling to do so. 

Some days the pain is too much. 

And so today I came and sat here.

To be reminded of what’s important in life. 

Of the lessons I learned walking with you through these halls. 

I desperately need the reminder, as I am searching. 

I thank Drew for this brick she donated her for you. 

Fight Like Mike….Share Love That’s All .

Your birthday is in a couple weeks. 

I want to feel you close.

I hope you show us your are near. 

Guide. Me. God. 

It’s a beautiful day.

Feels like fall. 

Leaves are falling on top of all of these bricks that have been 

given for some brave soul. 

I keep swimming though grief for each of them.

As I lay my head back against the bench. 

And look up to the beautiful blue sky.

The white clouds are slowly drifting across. 

So like the sky 

the water,

And the seasons

Everything changes. 

Everything keeps moving. 

I can’t stay stuck. 

I have to keep moving too. 

I have to keep swimming. 

I love you , Snookie. 

Happy Early  Birthday,

me