One Year

A year ago today, my life changed forever.

I got a call from my mother's cell phone at 5 am. I ignored it, thinking she accidentally pushed a button in her purse by mistake. Voicemail. Then another call. Then another. I groggily picked up the phone, ready to grumpily ask my mother why in the world she'd bug me at such an ungodly hour.

I didn't hear my mother's voice, but my aunt Treissa. Her voice was numb, somber but sweet. All I heard was "Baby, we need you to come home...right now." I asked how long I needed to be there, and I was told to get a one way ticket.

I wasn't in my body after that. I levitated for the next 4 hours. I had gone through this drill a year earlier with my grandmother's accident. Email all immediate parties of the situation: boss, higher boss, art director, and anyone I had appointments with for the next two weeks. Throw clothes in a bag. Toiletries were already packed from all the work travel from which I'd just returned. Go to work in my pajamas to make arrangements for my absence. Then get. on. that. plane.

This time, though, was different. With Grandma, the damage was done, and she was gone. Moment to moment this situation changed, improved then worsened. He's going to die...nope, he's not...and back again. For the two hours I was in the air with no communication, I had no idea whether he was already gone. All I could think of was my mother, and how much I wanted to be there to protect her. Protect her from all the pain and fear and wondering "Why us again?" that was creeping into my soul.

The hours, days, weeks and months that followed made me the person I am today. I witnessed defiant strength, indescribable compassion, boundless love, and the power of kindness of strangers. I was amazed by the wonders of the human body, and devastated by its limitations. As much as I thought I knew my mother, that connection expanded to facets I'd never discovered. And through everything, I grew to understand that I'll never understand why things happen the way they do, only that they do and your only power is your response to them. Fight like hell for what you believe in, but accept defeat gracefully if it fails.

There are days when I forget anything even happened. More than once I've picked up the phone to call my father, ready with a great story that I know he'll love. I've even dialed a few times before I snapped out of it. Other days I'm consumed with the overwhelming reality of it all. There were days I'd see a little girl on a swingset in a park with her daddy, and it was all I could do to keep upright. I've never been the type of woman who dreamed of her wedding day, but now all I know is that he won't be there in a corduroy jacket with some ridiculous comment moments before we walk down the aisle.

But it's ok.

This is what has happened. It is what is our present, here and now. And to be able to get out of bed every day, we look the painful memories in the eye, find the good and smile. Get up, shower, drink the coffee, and live another day. We see the little girl in the park with her daddy. Watch her curls bounce and hear her giggle. Even wave if you feel up to it. And know that no matter where life takes us, the spirit of the little girl remains, giggling, curls bouncing, and forever loving her big strong Daddy.