=( . . . If they are free, if they are fed, if they are stong. . .

Last night, after eating dinner together as a family, Michael and the boys walked out into the back yard to play for a bit as I cleaned up after the meal.

After a moment, I looked up to see him in the doorway, his eyes red and puffy.  And he gave me the sad news he had just read via facebook: that a friend's daughter had passed away after a lifelong illness.

No.

. . . Oh, please no.

Just no. . .

. . . . . . .

Because I didn't feel that it would be right to link to her story without permission, and because I also didn't want to trouble her family for permission at this time, I'm simply going to link to the book her sister wrote about being a donor:

http://www.lillysworld.com/

. . . . . . .

In all honesty, I have no idea what I'm doing.  This is a post that I just don't know how to write. . .  And yet it is simply too important to NOT write.

In no way do I wish to make this about anything other than this beautiful girl and her family. 

In no way do I wish to do, or say, or write, anything to cheapen or tarnish what they are going through.

And so I will just say this:

We ache for you.

As parents, as friends, as human beings.

We ache for how strong you are, and how strong you've had to be. 

We ache for things that a mother, and a father, and brothers and sisters should never have to go through.

We ache for your loss, and for the world's loss.

We ache because there is absolutely nothing we can do for you, and oh my God, how I wish that weren't true.

We ache because words are not enough, and we ache because how could this happen and why.

We ache for the strength, love, understanding, kindness, and compassion that we've seen embodied by your family.

We rail at the sorrow and the wrongness of it all.

And we ache deep inside, and wish we could do something, anything, to help.

But it is the same problem we have come against since we first became aware that there was suffering in the world:

We can't fix it.

We can't take it away.

And all we really want to do is help.  And make it . . . better, somehow, for you.

And we simply can't. . .

. . . . .

There are mothers and fathers hurting right now. . .

There are children that are hungry somewhere, and there are people that are scared, and there are others that are fighting about things that don't make a damned bit of difference.

We all know that we are all living on borrowed time.

It is our condition.

But if the ones you love are healthy right now. . . if they are free, and they are fed, and they are strong. . .

YOU APPRECIATE IT.

YOU RECOGNIZE IT FOR WHAT IT IS, AND EVEN IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN GOD YOU GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES AND YOU BE ETERNALLY GRATEFUL FOR WHAT IS YOURS AND WHAT SOME PEOPLE WOULD GLADLY SELL THEIR SOULS TO HAVE.

Because to do anything less is the worst sort of crime I can imagine.

Time is an illusion.

. . .And it is the most valuable thing we have.

. . . . . .

I woke up today.

And my children did, and my husband did.

And there is SO VERY MUCH THAT I CAN'T DO, AND SOMETIMES IT JUST DESTROYS ME INSIDE. . .

But I can be kind.  I can be kind to everyone that I meet, because the truth is that I just don't KNOW what they are going through.

And I can be grateful.

And I can care.

Even when it would be so much easier, and hurt so much less if I didn't. . . I can care.

I can acknowledge that I can't take your pain away.

But I can say that I saw you. 

I saw your story.  I marvelled at your bravery.  I stood in awe of your strength, and your light.

And I think that, just being aware of it, and appreciating it. . . maybe made me a little better.

So instead of cursing this new darkness, I will remember that.

And it will continue to amaze me.

And I will hold you up with every thought I have, and every tear I cry, and every hug I give.

I am so very, very sorry.

We love you, and we care.

<3 <3 <3