I hated to see my little lamb sick.
For 4 years, 5 months and 1 day I sat my his side and watched him struggle one issue after another.
It broke my heart.
At times it felt like my soul was breaking.
It took a long time for me to see the beauty.
The beauty in the struggle.
The beauty in the fight.
The beauty in survival.
We fought hard.
With every breath we had and every bit of energy we had,
we fought hard.
All of us.
I can't deny that we gave our all.
I can't deny that there's beauty in the mess.
I watched as he quietly took his treatments and his slew medicines.
I watched as he smiled at countless nurses, doctors and surgeons.
I watched as he quietly struggled to breath more times that I can count.
He cried to play outside.
He cried when he wanted something he couldn't have.
But he never cried over being stuck in a hospital room.
He never cried when he had to go to the doctors.
Instinctively he knew what he needed.
He took it with more grace and dignity than a grown person.
There's something about watching someone who is broken,
rebuild themselves one piece at a time.
It's like a phoenix rising from the ashes.
Liam was like that.
A presence that demanded attention.
A light within the darkness.
His lowest point was moments after he was born.
I watched as he rose and survived.
I watched as he spent his whole like trying to survive and live each day to the fullest.
His little hands grasping hotwheels.
Singing along with Mickey Mouse.
It was beautiful.
It was our beautiful mess.
(January 5th 2015)
No comments:
Post a Comment