Heartache and Hope
It’s been a cold hard winter for many of us. Freezing temperatures, snow, ice, and relentless rain have pummeled the Northwest. The raging pandemic, which we had hoped would be winding down months ago, has led to many of us contending with sickness, isolation, or canceled travel and postponed plans. I, for one, was fortunate to have an in-person reading at Eagle Harbor Books back in November. Since then, many special events have been canceled as the Omicron wave continues to keep us at largely at home. As the sun creeps slowly northward and the Covid cases begin to go down, we can only hope for a return to a new normal.
This January is difficult for some for another reason. As I talked about Claire in my book – the woman who helped me create Hannah’s mosaic garden stones — today, she faces the anniversary of the loss of her daughters from the January 31st Alaskan Airlines crash. Each year, Claire and her friends hold a special candle lighting ceremony for the eighty-eight souls lost in that tragedy. And then every year, she melts down the candles from that night to create votives for the next year, which she sends out to loved ones who commemorate that day. This year, I was especially moved to receive her candle and the words that accompanied it:
“To be loving is really all we can do and all that we must do. This has never been more true than it is now. Our whole world is suffering. We are scared, divided, angry and tired. As I sit down to write this letter I am overcome with a deep sense of exhaustion. We have been navigating too much for too long.
Our lives were challenging even before this pandemic. And now, two years in and the darkness and sadness of January makes it hard to get up each morning. We are done in with fatigue. And then that old uncomfortable truth keeps presenting itself: even when we are done we have to keep going on.
I am often asked, when people learn of the death of my daughters, ‘how do you keep going?’ The answer is both simple and profound…love. Love from and for my family, my friends, my daughters, my world. I follow routine, care for others, and just slowly and steadily try to show up with love to all the challenges that life presents. It is the only way forward that I know. To love, and to be loving, is the only path through this fatigue and pain. When I remember this, I find the strength I need…”
Such truth in Claire’s words – to love and be loved; to keep showing up in our lives for ourselves and each other. It’s really what it comes down to, especially in light of the fear and fatigue that surrounds us.
After my book launch in November, I had my own shut down. I was exhausted from the publication and release of my book, plus family responsibilities diverted my focus elsewhere. It’s been hard to pick myself up again and continue to share what’s in my heart. But I’m happy to announce that I’m finally having the online conversation with Dr. Jim Olson and Margo Fowkes this week. I couldn’t not. I wrote the book in part to share the horrors and the needs of the pediatric cancer world. Some of the proceeds of the book will go to support Jim’s research so that the experience and the outcomes for other children and other families will be different than ours. I love these two humans. I’m certain our talk will be informative and inspiring.
I invite you to tune in this Thursday, February 3rd at 5:30. Jim will share his latest news as an oncologist at Seattle Children’s Hospital and a principal researcher at Seattle Children’s Research Institute. (Jim recently moved his lab from the Fred Hutch.) My friend, Margo, is a fellow bereaved cancer mom and the creator of the grief website, Salt Water. Here is the zoom link to join the conversation:
https://us02web.zoom.us/j/85980927015?pwd=cmpsM1RHd2wxRVJZNVNqbXBPMWVUUT09
Meeting ID: 859 8092 7015
Passcode: 171306
XO, Reba