Tuesday, December 13, 2011

How memory becomes hope.

I can think of few things that are more precious than a sacrifice.

And yet, I'm sitting here in my room thinking how irrational it all seems. For someone to give something up for someone else. But it's only irrational here, where we live for us. For now. For a nice everything that the word "mine" can attach itself to.

Every December 13th, it hits me harder. Danny didn't just have FA. He didn't just die because a disease took over his body. He died for a purpose. So that years later, at 1:00 AM, his little sister could once again be in awe of God.

This little sister that still gathers strength from his memory.

You know. You'd think I'd have it down by now, but I still get angry that I'm learning to deal with him, without him.
I still wish his picture would talk back to me when I walk past it in the mornings while I brush my teeth. Not even something serious. Just a joke. For just one second to hear the only voice that I've forgotten. He could sing Achey-Breaky heart to me and I'd be satisfied.

and the thing is, why isn't my question anymore.

Because the why is new every day.

It happened, because it was best (even if it doesn't seem that way).
It happened for merciful reasons.
It happened for our benefit.
It happened for our growth.
It happened for our appetite for eternity.
It happened for invisible reasons that will blow our minds in eternity.

I can keep going if you want me to. But I'm getting to that part in my mind, where the idea has clicked. And my anger is transforming into what it always does on the 14th of December.

God gave up Danny, for me. For mom. For Dad. For Aryam.
Seven years of goodness, to show us the big picture: an eternity with no hospitals, no medications, and no separations.

It is 1:17 AM.
I am irrationally awed by this intricate plan.
And it still hurts, but it also promises to heal when life truly begins.

Here's to the December 13th, when the clock will start at zero, and never run out.
And I will sing/laugh/run/dance/make silly faces with Danny.

Take that, Satan.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

Goodbye, November.

Forgive me. I've been...angry.

You see, I found myself in a place I knew I was logically capable of pulling myself out of. But I couldn't quite bring myself to actually leave. And so I was angry at me, for staying. And angry at life for bringing it to me in the first place.

I know, I'm the queen of vagueness. Just hang in there. Or don't...really, I just need to get this out of my system.

So, where am I now? You know that dramatic part in a movie where someone is hanging off a cliff and you think to yourself--if they can only reach that hold to their left, they're going to make it--and then they do.

Well, my hand is reaching.

Short story. One day, I took my daddy rock-climbing. Being my daddy, he was scared out of his mind for me, probably cursing the day he had encouraged me to love adventure. He waited at the bottom for me to clear a rock face, but it had rained recently, and I was having a hard time finding a way to clear the last stretch of the rock. After wedging myself for a few minutes and resting, I decided if I could just reach for this hold I'd been eyeing, I would be alright. At that moment, I shut down my T-ness and jumped to catch it; it was dry, and solid, and exactly what I needed to finish my climb. Thirty seconds later, I was on the top, wondering why I would ever let my fears keep me from such exhilaration.

I'm jumping, and I can feel it...in my bones. I know I've calculated the distance accurately, and I know that falling isn't an option anymore--I will find something to hold on to. I know what the top feels like. I know that getting there, my fears will seem small and insignificant.

Forgive me, for I have been angry. And in my anger, I've lost sight of a lot of things.

Rage is blinding, especially when you pretend it doesn't exist. But my show is over. The audience is gone.

So here it is,
End scene.