I wrote this a few days ago and am just getting around to posting it.
Grief is strange how it can hit you unexpectedly and also be kind of predictable, too. I knew Alisa's birthday would be hard. All week I've been obsessed with her--everything reminds me of her. Every song on the radio seems to be about her, everything she ever gave me (which is a lot!) screams out to me and no matter what the weather is, it reminds me of times spent together. What is my deal?!
One snowy morning last week, I was driving along and Coldplay's Paradise came on. It took me back to a Sunday four years ago. Alisa had just found out that her cancer was stage IV. It was in her bones and liver and she was starting to have pain. She called me as I was getting ready for church and said, "Do you want to skip church and drive up to Paradise with me today?" (Paradise is the small town where we spent out childhood.) Of course I said "yes," because suddenly there wasn't anything else in the world I would rather do.
She picked me up and we had a great drive. It had just snowed and bright sunshine was reflecting everywhere. We talked about many things--her thoughts on dying and what would happen to her kids. I treasure those conversations. Along the drive somewhere, she told me that she had called our brother, Jon, who lives in Idaho, and invited him to meet us. I thought, of course, Paradise is our town. We were the ones old enough to remember it well. But then it came out that she had some ulterior motives for inviting him. She was almost embarrassed to tell me that she was having him bring his camera equipment and was going to have him film her "last run." She wanted to run up a hill that our house faced. She had always wanted to know what was on the other side. And she wanted to make a music video to one of her favorite songs, Paradise.
So that is what we did that day, and it was so fun, such a great memory. A few days later we were at Target and I found her just staring at a big picture of a woman running in the athletic wear department. She couldn't take her eyes off it. "Sonja, look. She's running. Does she even know how lucky she is?" She tried to look at the clothes we came for, but kept looking up at the picture. "I just can't get over this picture. See how she is smiling? It seems like she doesn't have a care in the world."
The good news is that Alisa had many more runs after that day in Paradise. The bad news is that she isn't around to protest me posting this video to the world.
Last night Alisa's husband and her best friend threw a small party in honor of her birthday. My parents couldn't be there but wanted to see pictures, and I'm sure a few of you would love to peek in as well. Alisa and I used to marvel at Stephanie's decorating skills and thoughtful gifts and it was so fun to get a glimpse of what a love for Alisa plus some serious talent can come up with (with a week's notice). We did a balloon launch at the end and I thought about what I wanted to write on my balloon, one sentiment overwhelmed me, "Alisa, I'm so happy you were born."
I walked in and this is what I saw: her bike with flowers and a copy of Anne of Green Gables in the basket. I was so touched that anyone would love my sister enough to make this kind of effort. Steph! You are a wonder!
A peek at the tables and a banner by Stephanie.
We all brought a few things that reminded us of Alisa.
I've been looking forward to such a blog title for a long time and here we are. Yay! I am happy that this was our outcome, grateful for all the years we've had with Steven and for the many more to come, and humbled when I think of other cancer friends who weren't so lucky. Yesterday we had the appointments. Steven didn't have a scan as normal, they just took an x-ray of his chest. They do this because they are less worried about recurrence at this point and it reduces the amount of radiation he is exposed to. So I don't know if I can officially call these scans, but his blood work was totally normal and his lungs were clear. We have every reason to hope for Steven to live a long life, cancer free. We will continue these check-ups annually until he is 19 or 20, which will be 10 years out from treatment. Hopefully we will feel as peaceful about those future check ups as we did yesterday. It was a good day. And because I don't post so often, ...
The other day I was thinking about my girls and how excited they are for Christmas. A flood of emotion swept over me as I considered the joyful holidays (and the hard ones) that Alisa and I shared together. Sometimes I watch my girls together and I am transported to my childhood and to my relationship with my little sister. We were little girls and it was the era of the Cabbage Patch dolls. Every little girl wanted one--and no one more than Alisa and I. But stores were sold out and so all the hoping guaranteed nothing. We had no hope of Santa bringing them because Dad had been quite frank with us about how the Santa thing worked. One day, a few weeks before Christmas, we made a hopeful discovery. In the closet, under the stairs, we found two Cabbage Patch-shaped boxes wrapped in one layer of white tissue paper. We could make out the words on the box. We were ecstatic. I don't know if we managed to hide the joy we had, knowing ther...
Saturday morning we got a devastating call from Rob's mom: his dad had passed away in the night. They were in California, had spent a lovely week at Disneyland with Rob's brother and his family. He hadn't complained of any health problems during the trip and had no known health problems so this came as a huge shock to all of us. His passing has brought to my mind a wealth of memories shared with him. He has been such a huge part of holidays, birthdays, vacations, home projects, and really just our life. He was a humble man with a very big heart. Steven was named after him and as a little kid, he idolized his grandpa. I hope that his biggest aspiration is to be as kind and good as his namesake. I have so many pictures of him and my kids. I keep thinking about Alisa's admonition to take more pictures. I'm glad I have as many as I do. I wish I could take more. Here are a few that tell a little about him as a grandpa. Here is one o...
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