Another Year
What a difference a year makes. I find myself struck day after day after day by the power of the memories of last year. Right before Thanksgiving (last Thanksgiving), Austin had an ultrasound that revealed a new spot. New, as in not the same spot we’d been watching and worrying about all fall. So we knew, at that point, we almost, mostly, practically knew that his cancer was back. But we weren’t quite ready to commit yet, to actually do anything about it.
So we waited, a few more weeks, for a repeat ultrasound. And that happened on December 7. One year ago tomorrow. And that, well, you can read it here. It was a Monday and then I sent Austin back to school that Tuesday and Wednesday because I knew these would be his last days there for a good long while. We spent one quick night in the hospital that Thursday for a CT scan and then returned the following Sunday for the next surgery and big pre-Christmas stay.
But it’s that day of school on the 8th that I remember. I dropped him off in his classroom and walked out as he cried for me, held tight in the arms of his teacher. It wasn’t unusual, he cried when I left on most days last year (and many this year). He ends up happy, within mere minutes, so I knew in my head it would be okay. What I felt in my heart was another matter. That walk out was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life.
One of my closest friends happened to be parent helping in her daughter’s classroom that morning. And I had stopped to see her for big hugs on my way in, but I didn’t want to stop again so I walked out the door and down the path to my car, and I suddenly just lost it. Another mom came walking up, one I know well who had already read the previous night’s update and I just fell into her arms. She was holding a baby bundled in a snowsuit but managed to hold me too. And I sobbed. Part of me wanted her to go back in and get my other friend for me, but I couldn’t bear that one minute when I’d be standing out there alone in the snow, while parents who didn’t yet know wandered past me. So she did the job (thanks, Lisa) and I mumbled over and over into her winter coat, “I don’t know if I can do this again. I don’t want to do this again.”
But we had no choice. So do it, we did.
On this weekend last year, we chopped down the top of a pine tree here in our new yard and brought it back to our old house to serve as our Christmas tree. Well, it turned out to be pretty spindly and lopsided and very Charlie Brown-like:
So we made up for it yesterday by buying two trees. One for the living room, which the boys are calling their own because they finally got their wish to have colored (as opposed to my preferred white) lights. And another for the dining room, where I finally got my wish to have a perfectly color-coordinated tree.
Yup, we did it.
Oh what fun it is to have two trees! Good for the economy too. Where are tree toppers? I was expecting stars from you.
Oh my god, Jennifer, would you believe we have NO tree toppers? I just haven’t found the right ones yet! (No, that is NOT an invitation to buy them for me!!) Will get some soon, definitely stars (which cover both trees already) and then will post new pics.
Krissy, your journey wtih Austin and your family this past year, and the past few years, has been nothing short of extraordinary. And it keeps getting more extraordinary! Every time I read one of your posts, I just keep saying to myself, it’s one more day, one more good day, one more day with good news, one more day to celebrate, one more day to keep going…. celebrating life, getting stronger, looking only ahead. I am sending all good thoughts your way …. Merry Christmas!
Barbara
Hi Krissy. I only found your blog today after you very thoughtfully commented on mine charting my new journey through breast cancer with two small children. I’m finding your posts very moving. You are incredible. And I love your two trees! Big love to you and your gorgeous boys. Pinchy xxx
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