Go Blog Yourself

2Pe 3:8
But, beloved, be not ignorant of this one thing, that one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.

We were in the American Folk Art room at the Milwaukee Art Museum.  There was a painting by a little known folk artist; a pie chart of history according to the Bible.  Blue, White and Red pie shapes, each pie representing a “one thousand year day” and all of the “important” events that occurred on that 1000 year day, like the first sunset, the great flood, and the birth of Jesus.

I like that crude pie chart.  I get it.  It has been two years since Tuesday’s passing, but it feels like 1000 years. It feels as I’ve lived a hundred lifetimes and that it’s only been 1 day since I held her last.  A lot of “important” things have occurred, but the only thing that the stands out is that my daughter just died.  Can I still stay just died?  After all, It’s been 730 days, or 730,000 years, according to the pie chart in house paint on a plank of wood.

The heart doesn’t know time, but the soul can’t deny it.  My heart  aches as it did the first day and the 100th day and as far as I can tell, will still ache on day 1000.  My soul, however, feels the sadness and the cold and the dark of January even without a calendar or reminders of the date.  It feels that this is the season that she died and I would feel that even if I were in a cave for a year.  Or 1000 years.  or a day.  The soul knows.

2 years.

I still feel like a high functioning sociopath.

I’m happy/I’m sad.

I’m getting my shit back together/I’m a mess.

I’m hopeful/I’m pissed.

I’m better.

I will never be better.

I’m ready to get off the rollercoaster.

But when we get to that last hill, it just starts climbing again.

Time does not heal all wounds because time is of no matter.  1 day or 1000 years; it’s all the same.

This doesn’t meant that there isn’t healing.  We are healing.  We are different, but we are healing.  I’ve found that when you don’t recognize yourself, its best to return to those things that have always brought you joy.  There is a lot of focus on travel and music and art and friends and giving.  I’ve also found that sorrow and pain should be welcomed.  Sit with it and hold it’s hand.  It will only stay just long enough, and then you can go back to the travel and music and art and friends and giving.  Feeling the pain big gives way to feeling the joy big.  There is much to be thankful for and much to enjoy.  I’m choosing to enjoy.

After all, this will all be over in a day.

Hi my name is Spencer.  I’m shaving for St. Baldrick’s again because my sister Tuesday died from Neuroblastoma on January 30th, 2009.  This is my second year and I want to do it for at least 7 years so I can get on the Knights of the Bald Table.  I’m shaving my head for St. Baldrick’s because it raises the most money for childhood cancer.  Please look at the St. Baldrick’s website.  You can join Team Tuesday too.  It doesn’t matter where you live.  I hope you will support me in finding a cure for childhood cancer.  Thank you.

I know.  Super sweet, huh?  Yes.  It kills me.  Go here to see the beautiful photos from last years’ event.  And then search for a St. Baldricks event in your area and sign up!  Or sign your kid up.  Or your husband.  Or your wife.  Or your neighbor.  Or your boss.  You may or may not want to ask their permission first.

Give big.  This will get us closer to finding a cure for her, and her, and him, and him, and the almost 13,000 kids that will be diagnosed with cancer this year.  And for the 1 in 5 that will die.  And all of them that will suffer life long side effects from treatment.  It takes all of us.  Not just those of us that have watched our children suffer and die.  It takes you.  It doesn’t only happen to other people’s kids.  Trust me.

There are things along this journey of loss that may possibly hurt each one of us equally.  The empty Christmas Stocking, hanging by the chimney with care, is one of those things.  Last year we were in the RV, but we took our stockings on the road.  We brought Tuesday’s stocking, which may seem totally odd, but it felt much odder to leave it at home.  Our solution was to fill it with letters to Tuesday.  It bulked it up a bit.  It was a nice touch.  I don’t know what anyone wrote or drew, but we all put pen to paper, folded up our words and tucked them tenderly inside.  This year, when we hung our stockings, the pain was still as real and the questions from the kids about how Santa knows Tuesday is dead, were just as nausiating, but seeing that bit of form inside, knowing it was bits of our love for her, took the edge off.

When we sat to write our notes to Tuesday this Christmas, Spencer came up with a cool idea.  He read on his box of 64 Crayola crayons with the sharpener, (I know!) that you can print coloring pages from your own photos.  He asked to go through my iPhoto to find pictures of Tuesday.  We found a bunch.  I cried a bunch.  Here are the results:

I loved this project.  Going through photographs is draining.  Transforming them in this way did something magical.  Coloring is good for the soul.

If you don’t have a big box of Crayola Crayons and you’d like a box, leave me a comment and I’ll get one to you.  I liked it that much!  If you’d like to make a donation to whatchagonnado to purchase crayons for kids that have lost a sibling to cancer, go to www.whatchagonnado.org.