Wednesday, January 30, 2013

the mothaload debuts in Momalode

i don't really remember when i started writing...i mean i remember the vows of love that i wrote to whoever my crush of the month was back in middle school, i's dotted with hearts to boot. but really writing...maybe high school.  i know i have always been a deep girl.  sometimes to deep i think. i had to watch my grandma, the only mom i have ever known, slowly and painfully die from leukemia right before my innocent nine year old eyes.  i think from then on i was changed forever. i miss her just as hard today as the day we lost her... she taught me how to be the mommy that i am today. even as young as i was the years that i had her are ingrained in me. she was an artist, i am a writer. she would be proud.  i remember in college writing letters to her when i thought my world was crumbling around my feet.  i realize now that the world was not in fact crumbling around my feet, and i can say i now know what that truly is. i still have those letters to her under the bed i am writing this on, a gentle reminder of time gone by.  so whether it started out with innocent love letters, onto poetry, more letters and eventually blogging i guess i have always been a pen to paper, now fingers to keyboard kind of girl.  i don't tell a person how i feel. i write it.  i don't sit over cups of coffee pondering the world, i do that when i type.  to each his own right...what i know today is those early days of pen to paper paved the way for three years ago.  three years ago when i would be challenged to write in ways i never fathomed that i would have to write.  i only knew that my world was actually crumbling around me this time and i had to find a way to continue on amongst the rubble. so i wrote. i wrote brutally, honestly, tearfully and hopefully. i look back on those writings as one of my most prized possessions. i didn't do it for anyone, it was simply the only way that i knew to save myself in those days, weeks, months and yes, years of unrelenting fight to see my son live.

as you all he lives.  beautifully, powerfully, happily. i continue to chronicle his journey. our journey. its aftermath and the rebuilding of ground zero.  in the interim though i am able to travel back in time to really gauge just how far we have come.  i am blessed to be able to see through the eyes of others, my readers, my friends and my family that the writing was not for no one. it was for an entire sea of people who can relate, who can sympathize, who have traveled the same path, who continue to travel it, who are just starting it or are getting back to the basics on what matters in life.  his journey, paxtons fight, continues to inspire people today. three years later.  he is the hero, i am his vessel.

please, please stop by Momalode, a parenting blog/magazine that featured paxtons journey front and center.  hero/vessel...the journey continues. 

big, huge hugs

1 comment:

cici said...

You are so right, your Grandma would be so so proud!
She is watching over Paxton and giving you strength and comfort in your life.
There is nothing like a Grandm's love.
In your darkest hours she is your sunshine.

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