SUNSHINE AND RAIN

(Lulu & Mrs. B)

Hello Friends,

Wow, it’s been almost a month since I’ve written. You’ll see why after you read this entry …

Much like the weather in the Midwest this year, our lives have been full of rainbows, storms, sunshine and rain … sometimes all in one day!

Ours began full of hope, as Lulu was set to ‘graduate’ from Kindergarten. She was SO excited, and had been chattering on and on about the program all week. She was going to sing choreographed songs with her class, and give a little speech along with a few other chosen students. She practiced her two lines diligently, and had them down pat before the big day.

Proud as punch, she was the last and tiniest to march down the aisle, chest held high, with laser-like focus and broad grin. The program was cute beyond words, especially the dance-moves! I must admit, I used to think Kindergarten graduation was kind of a joke … really, we need to graduate K5? This year, however, there was cause for celebration, pomp and circumstance. Lulu missed almost all of K4 last year, having spent most of it in the hospital. This year she missed 45 days of K5, yet graduated with a perfect report card and took home the most coveted trophy; the Eagle Award. This award is given to the child in each class who demonstrates the best spirit and behavior all year. – No mean feat while on daily chemo and monthly steroids!!!

I’ve never seen Lulu so proud of herself, holding her trophy and her teacher who has become part of our extended family. It was the perfect distraction after what had been a horrible day. My husband’s father was scheduled to move into a hospital 5 blocks from us when he passed away graduation morning. Jimmy’s mother was visiting us when she got the news, and I recognized the awful sounds emanating from her room as the phone call came in. She had known Mike since she was 15. Jimmy was on his way back from an out-of-town job, and was devastated. I think the whole family was in shock, and the impact of Grandpa Mike’s death was felt more deeply than any of us would have predicted.

Somehow, Jimmy sat down at his computer, and over the next few days wrote the most thoughtful, respectful and historical eulogy I’ve ever heard. He read it aloud through sobs and tears, but each word was heard and felt by all present. I’ve always had a lot of respect for my husband, but his words, and grace surrounding this event raised the bar. He even arranged and led a Harley caravan to all his father’s favorite haunts. The funeral concluded with full military honors and a 21-gun salute and formal flag ceremony; well-deserved after fighting in Vietnam, a war that effected Mike and his family ever after.

Lulu spoke of death with an understanding that only one who’s lived so close to it can. She asked if Grandpa was up in heaven with Bo now, and was content my soft yes. She spoke of my mother, whom she’d never met but feels a connection with. She’s often talked about building a time-machine when she grows up, and the first thing she is going to do is bring back my mom, and Bo. Now Grandpa too.

We are all getting back into our summer routines, Lulu and Max in camps off and on, Jimmy and I hard at work. I’ve gotten so used to giving her oral chemo that I can tell the bottles apart by sound alone: Methotrexate is a high-pitched light sound like tic-tacs, 6MP has a duller, lower sound, and Bactrim is low but has more of an echo when shaken. I’ve only broken down once recently, when I had to wake her to give her pills, and one hung from her lip as she slept. I wondered what am I doing to this poor baby girl? But it must be done.

She’s tolerating things extremely well, only occasionally nauseous and enjoying the summer quite like a regular kid (full head of hair and all!). We are counting down the days to March 2014 when we can ring the bell at Children’s, meaning she is cured and finished. There will likely be more unpredictable weather along the way, but we’ve found out our family is remarkably resilient. Thank you all for being a part of our umbrella.

Love,

a.l.l. of us