If you told me six months ago that this is where I'd be, I never would have believed you.
This is hell on earth.
This still doesn't make any sense.
And yet, I'm still standing.
I inhale and exhale.
I'll tell you how.
The reason that Scott and I and our sweet little family hasn't completely crumbled is because of you.
You and your prayers. Your phone calls and texts. Your apple crisp. And cookies. And casseroles.
It's the notes that you send. The wristbands you wear.
It's the conversations. At work. At school. On the golf course. You ask. You listen. And you listen some more. You watch as we attempt to accept the unacceptable and realize it ain't gonna happen.
You know "OK" is our standard answer when someone asks how we're doing. And you know that's really code for "crappy" and "barely holding it together."
You drop in every once in awhile. Invite us over and understand that sometimes we'll be up for it and sometimes we just won't.
And you say her name. That sweet, sweet name. Without hesitation. Or fear. And you let me say it freely.
You share a memory. A photograph. And tears.
We're still standing.
With a whole lot of help.
And for that we say thank you.