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Monday, February 21, 2011

Slow Motion

Where is the pause button? I'd like nothing more today that to put life on hold for just a little bit of time, to have some time to process this craziness that has occurred. And I mean LIFE, not just my life. If everything could just take a little break for a while, it would allow some time to take some deep breaths. To remember and cherish and process. To catch up on all the things that have flown right by the past couple of weeks and landed in a big "to do" pile that is begging to be addressed. To figure out what our new "normal" will be moving forward. And to not have to worry about obligations and bills and grocery shopping and cleaning and paperwork and difficult relationships and so much other stupid stuff that requires attention and energy. Pause. Stop. Time-out. Whatever it takes.

We are not afforded that luxury, though, and we all know there is no magic button that would allow for that kind of time. We are granted little reprieves now and then, and help in the form of good friends. But, life keeps moving whether we move with it or not. There are vacations and birthdays and school and work and training and playdates and houses and exercising and all kinds of other things that will keep happening, just like before. Lives are being lived, just like they were before, even when you want to scream for everyone to STOP. That's just how it works. Calling "time-out" in order to have some time to play catch up just isn't an option.

And so I get up in the morning and we go about our routine. The routine things...that's the easier stuff to do and it what keeps our little piece of the world spinning. That spinning is a little slower, maybe, but it is still moving. And when I find I am getting through those routine things, I'll start thinking about the more complicated tasks. And they'll be added back in to our lives. And by doing these things, it keeps our little piece of the world moving despite a vastly different reality than just two weeks ago. It is a changed world in many ways, but since we can't keep life from continuing on, we'll just have to try to control the pace a little bit until we can catch up and grab on again. Perhaps instead of that elusive pause button, it is instead a slow-motion option we are able to each use at our discretion until we find we are able to continue at our own pace, whatever that may be. We have to keep moving, but how quickly we do that right now is an option we can control.

It's taken me a long time to write this. A couple of days. Lots of hours, and I am not even sure it is exactly what I want to say, but it is a start. Making sense of all that has happened has been and will continue to be slow, and writing sensibly has been even slower. Maybe because there aren't answers and honestly, there is little about it that makes sense. There is so much spinning around and what I want to do is tell you stories about Mary and Molly and John, especially for those of you who were not allowed to personally know them. I want to push rewind and tell about the days when cancer wasn't such a player in our 7 person family. I want to ask questions of people who might have some answers, and yell at people who don't. I want to find a way to express my gratitude to so many people that have stepped in to help ease the pace of the past few weeks (and years) without ever needing to be asked. I want to explain how getting out to run and run and run sometimes helps this to feel a little less painful. I want to find a big, giant, enormous way to help eradicate this disease so no other families have to experience such losses. I want to try to explain what an amazing example of selflessness our extended family has been over the years by always showing up, and staying. There are so many feelings and emotions and people and relationships and stories to share, but it all seems too fragmented right now. Moving and thinking in slow motion will do that, I guess.

In the meantime...Be good. Be strong.
For Mary, and Molly, and John.

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