One Foot In Front of the Other

Spring comes without warning, it seems.  Suddenly everything is green, flowers are blooming, and the world is waking up.  New life is everywhere.  Robins are hopping around our backyard, some are building nests in nearby trees and shrubs.  There is an expectancy in the air. The cycle of grief is a recursive one.  Back and forth it seems to go for months on end.  Great sadness, numbness, depression, exhaustion; until one day a memory comes and it is not painful but poignant.  Rather than a tear falling, a smile comes and with it a hint of joy and a lightness of spirit. Ten months have passed since we lost our Lacy.  We made it through some big firsts; birthday, Father's Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas.  The anniversary date of his home-going is not far away. In these ten months, Kenny and I have begun to find our way into new patterns and traditions. Sunday afternoons have become a time for visiting friends, enjoying walks, or just relaxing...

We are in a time of transition.  So many things have changed for us.  Kenny and I are creating new patterns of living.  We are taking the first steps to explore new interests. As parents, we put our own needs and desires aside to be the best parents we could.  Neither of us regret a minute of the time we spent with Lacy, or the experiences we passed up.  I don't know that I could name any of them, as the life we had was full and joyful, even in times of great difficulty. Kenny and I are considering the word "vitality" rather than "happiness."  What does it mean to be full of "vitality?"  We have a few ideas. Vitality means....       Openness to new experiences       Meeting new people       Expanding our "tent"       Thinking about our individual passions and nurturing them       Looking for those moments when God speaks, recognizing His voice, growing in love and joy...

Kenny and I are in Florida for the Christmas holiday.  We decided last month that we could not endure a long and sad Christmas at home thinking about the way things used to be.  We miss Lacy so much. We booked a trip to St. George Island, Florida and flew here on Thursday.  The weather is sunny and mild - not warm or cold - and the island is quiet since it's the off season. This morning, Kenny and I took a long walk down the beach.  The wind and waves soothed and refreshed us.  No need to hurry, no place to go.  We walked, sometimes holding hands, sometimes stopping to watch a pelican dive into the water. As it turns out, our walk lasted over two hours.  We came back to our room at the inn, ate lunch, and took a nap. For the first time since Lacy's death, I had a dream about him that was not disturbing.  It was as though I was seeing pieces of our life together, but the overall feeling was one of peace. Awake, I was thinking about our wa...

In the past few months, I've had few words to say.  This blog has been such a part of my life for so long, and I have shared our family's joys and sorrows through the years.  Yet, when Lacy passed away I was left with few words.  At first the thoughts came quickly.  Kenny and I were so grateful for the time we'd had with our son.  We were grateful for God's mercy in a time of great suffering.  We were thankful for the standing-room-only crowd at his memorial.  We were thankful for the lifting of burdens and worries. My child died, and part of me died with him.  I didn't realize it right away.  As Kenny and I have talked about Lacy and that terrible morning in May, we've come to realize that we suffered an amputation.  I will never get that part of my very being back.  I will never be completely whole again this side of glory. The memories of holding our son for the last time, kissing his forehead and hands - already cool to the ...

I've not been writing much lately.  Since Lacy passed away on May 28, I've just not had the energy.  I pray for everyone everyday who has to fight this disease.  HD Robbed our son of his independence and finally robbed us all of time together.  The finality is so hard to bear. We adopted Lacy Alan when he was 3 years old.  We knew that he was at risk, since his maternal grandmother had died from complications of HD .  He was developmentally delayed and had other difficulties, be he overcame so many challenges to be the very best he could be.  He was an avid reader, curious about the world, and loved to travel with us all over the United States.  He enjoyed video games and watching Matlock with me on TV during school breaks. When he was 28, we began to see significant changes in his mood and personality. He had a grand mal seizure out of the blue. within 5 years he was refusing to bathe and was delusional. He was tested for HD , and it wa...

Just when Kenny and I were wondering if we should temporarily suspend our HD Support group meetings, we have received two requests for information, and an indication that there is a need out there. I'll be honest - we've been feeling really raw when it comes to HD.  It seemed so difficult to keep trying to advocate.  The thought of planning a fundraising walk or some kind of event was overwhelming.  Our support group had dwindled to Kenny and I and another couple who are not able to come regularly, but still support our efforts. These contacts have been a spark for us, and let us know that there is still work to be done here in Northwest Arkansas.  There are others who need information and support. One step in front of the other.  Life without Lacy.

Tomorrow will be three months since we lost our sweet boy.  Time has seemed suspended in some ways.  The days since Lacy's death have been quiet.  I turned 60 last week.  Kenny will celebrate a birthday next month. Two weeks ago, I returned to work.  I have good days and hard days, but I don't have terrible days.  I feel like an observer to my own life at times.  I spend time every week thinking about Lacy, thanking God for the gift of our son, and remembering our journey together.  There are of course joyful and sobering memories.  Happy and difficult times come to mind.  Kenny and I share these memories with each other and with friends and colleagues.  We laugh and cry together.  We miss our son in a way that is deep and painful.  There is still an emptiness in our family, one that will never completely be filled, but a wound that will heal with a scar. When Lacy died, Kenny and I both felt the same way.  This w...