I would rather appear foolish and have faith, than appear right and have none.
I wrote that this morning, and it sort of sums up my feelings about this whole cancer thing. People have accused me, at times rather harshly, of not dealing with the reality of this situation. Those people must not know my God. My God is a healer and a miracle maker. He can do all things. So I have held out hope that He would give us a miracle. Some think that is foolish. I feel sorry for them.
God had a different plan for David than what I had hoped for. It makes me unbearably sad. As much as everyone else loves David, they can’t know what it has been like to have that unconditional love for 18 wonderful years. He has been a blessing every day. From a chubby baby through adolescence and into the beginnings of adulthood, he would always share openly of himself – his emotions, his thoughts, his dreams.
I think parents love their children, but it is a special gift if you just genuinely like them, too. I have only grown to like David more over the years, and I’m glad that many of you have expressed the same sentiment. He would say he loves you all.
David hasn’t spoken since Saturday, and he hadn’t really responded to much since Sunday morning. We’ve sat with him and shared time with him since then, but he is less with us each moment.
It is a horribly difficult time, and for me, it is complicated by being in someone else’s house. While I sit trying to soak up the little remaining time with this sweet young man, life marches on in the house above. Laughter wafts down frequently, and I find myself resentful that the world doesn’t stop and hold its breath with me. But I know David wouldn’t be resentful. He wouldn’t want anyone to be even the slightest bit inconvenienced by him. I aspire to be half as nice as my son is.