I still choose to get up each day and smile fiercely at the sun. Sure, maybe sometimes that smile looks more like a grimace of pain. Yet despite trisomy 18, despite grief of unimaginable magnitude, despite leukemia, despite Alzheimers, dementia, and mental illness, I choose to dig in my garden, to read books, to write, to cherish my children, the living and the dead, to kiss my husband, and to keep striving towards … whatever it is we strive towards—maybe just being a better person in the world. Maybe just spreading compassion and love.
Recently, I’ve constantly thought about control. It’s an illusion. We have absolutely none. My son died and taught me that. My daughter was diagnosed with leukemia and reminded me. COVID19 shuts down the world, and I scream “OK I GET IT, UNIVERSE! NO CONTROL!” Most of the time, I am able to hold the knowledgeContinue reading “The bubble”