And...she's off.
Last weekend we packed Claire up and drove her down to her university, which is only 45 minutes away. After several hours decorating her room, buying groceries, and getting textbooks we drove home. WITHOUT CLAIRE. I can't really describe my feelings. In fact, I am still processing them. I have waited a week to write, and I still don't know what to say. I will say that I am so very, very grateful. I know too many families who would have loved to have this moment in time for their children. A young man who is in our cancer community that was diagnosed while serving an LDS mission in Russia and who was about the same age as Claire passed away just two days ago. The realities of cancer are all around us, but so is hope and faith and the incredible feeling of moving on. Claire came home this weekend to hear her friend speak in church before leaving to be a missionary in Ukraine. We heard all about her first week at college, not that I hadn't texted her everyday. I think she overestimated how much energy it would take for her to have a normal university schedule and she was very tired by the end of her week, but she said she has enjoyed it. She really likes living on her own. I noticed a difference in her...a confidence or sense of independence that wasn't there before. It made my heart full. So, in the spirit of independence, I have decided to stop keeping this blog. Oh, I will probably write something on her bone marrow birthday or post an occasional picture, but I think I will just let her live her new life without letting everyone in on it. (Even though the support we have received through this blog has been so beautiful and appreciated.) And I will keep breathing.
"...this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about."
Haruki Murakami
"In my own little corner in my own little chair..."
Way to go Claire! Good luck on your studies.
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