She was a beacon for energy, a conduit that didn’t stop until, in one monstrous moment, God took her away. Suddenly and sharply.
I glanced at my phone and watched as the date changed from May 6th to May 7th and realized, it’s four years later and I am in a hospital, waiting again.
It’s my birthday. The anniversary of when I showed up in this world and a nice reminder that I’m still here. Also a nice reminder that I’m older and that much closer to not being here.
As far as the Literary Mother of the Year awards go, Mrs. Weasley became a contender from the moment she helped Harry Potter get onto Platform 9 ¾ in the first book.
Facebook just shared some memories with me today. Not that I needed Facebook to tell me where I was two years ago and what my friends were tagging me in on their status updates that day.
We alone know that “grueling” reaches a whole new level when it is associated with a ten-hour surgery to extract a brain tumor, and that “waiting,” a word usually associated with boredom, is in fact the most painful word in the English language.