The day has come to an end and my family leaves us to go “home”, to walk to the Family House.
Reese- Why do you always tell them to be safe when they leave?
Me- I don’t want anything to happen to them.
Reese- Like what? There aren’t any bad guys.
Me- (thinking) Well, for example, I don’t want them to trip and fall.
Reese- But tripping is a part of life. Then you get back up again.
Me- Good point, Reese.
On Black Friday, Reese has been here for seven months. Straight. I asked her what she remembers about the PICU. This was in May, when she was suffering from VOD. Some of my worst memories from this transplant happened there. I can’t even talk about it. All she remember about this horrific time is that she was “cold”. What a blessing, the human brain. God takes care of us in ways we don’t even think about, easing our pain with this defense mechanism of forgetting.
Today she brought me to tears during her “bath”. She was being so endearing, telling me how much she loved me, in a way that is so unique to Reese. I told her I’m sorry. I’ve told her this many times, leaning over her bed at night. I am sorry that your beautiful soul got stuck with this body. This body that failed you at 3 years old. But your spirit is STRONG. Your resolve is unmatched. And now your sweet self has a new chance, and you will do wonderful things, my beautiful Reese.