Monday, July 16, 2012
There is No Santa Clause (Gabby on Mend)
Gabrielle is steadily improving since being admitted on Friday. She went to bed last night sounding almost normal, but woke up this morning choking on her coughs ... which is better than the night before when she went to bed choking on her coughs and woke up struggling to breath. So we are seeing a positive trend.
So funny being in the hospital this time around and after last year's marathon experience (which was followed by an incredibly challenging year). A year ago we were just realizing that we were "That Family." Now there's a quiet acceptance.
I suppose that's how it is for anyone who lives with – or is supporting someone through – a life-altering tragedy, sickness or disease... You just come to look at the world differently.
You come to realize that there is no Santa Clause. You're like the kid in Gr.1 who knows what's really going on behind the scenes come Christmas time. You just don't get as excited about all the hubbub as everyone. You enjoy the activities and excitement and go along with the myth because you want to fit in, be a part of things, and have fun. You learn to enjoy the season for what it really is. You are wiser beyond your years.
You know there is no Santa Clause. Weirdly, however, and in a way you can't quite make sense of, you know not to talk about it too much (or at all) with your peers because you don't want to ruin their fun. Their fun is premised on something entirely different. They don't want to know about Santa Clause. They don't want to "go there." Not ready. Later.
Gabrielle has shown us what is really magical. Really real. Really wonderful.
Life is short. Life is fragile. Like can hurt. Life can be wonderful.
So while there is no Santa Clause, we're learning that there are lots of opportunities to quietly celebrate what we have – and who we have – without making it a big deal or super special. The frills and ribbons we see people getting all tangled up in actually take away from what's really going on in the first place. Untangling yourself can be a long and painful process, and sometimes you lose yourself along the way, but what you see at the end is worth it ... because it's real.