Miracles

Like cancer care, which I compared Keilie's hardships to the day she moved out, time is moving forward despite the jarring feeling that my world has spun off its axis.  We are still doing school, work, housework, still doing as many family dinners as we can, still playing games nearly every night, still looking for ways to spend time together instead of in front of screens, and still reading scriptures, praying, and worshipping our Heavenly Father.  But there is a hole in our family, something huge is missing, and it's not just the all-encompassing hardship of a major trial.

Like then, it's confusing now to live in a reality where I miss the child but not the trial.  I wanted Caden back but knew he was in a better place where he didn't feel pain.  I want Keilie back, but I realize that for whatever reason, she's without some sort of pain being away from here.  I may outwardly look at it as one child made the choice to abandon us while the other only wanted to stay, but the fact of the matter is, it doesn't matter-- they both hurt even if it brings a certain peace.

The one difference, and it's a big difference, is that I get to see Keilie's beautiful face from time to time, get to hold her in my arms for even just a brief moment.  We've probably only seen her for a total of 15-minutes these last thirteen days, but it brings elation to my heart each time.  She's gone, but not forever.  I remind myself that every day as I try to break down the wall I started building around my heart many months ago when the oppressive rage and cutting words started breaking me.  I'm still learning from cancer care, I'm still learning from motherhood, I'm still learning to search for silver linings.  I still get an occasional hug from my Keilie, and that is a miracle for which I will never forget.

(Reflections such as these make me miss my Caden acutely.  I still cannot believe The Boy in the Bed is gone.)