- One more to go
- Entry for August 17, 2005
- No idea where I'm going today. Well, that isn't exactly true, but unlike the way I normally write, which is with a pretty clear focus of a few points that I want to structure the piece around, I'm coming into this one with just a bunch of emotion.
I find myself near tears over the past few weeks. For the first time in a couple years though, the tears aren't motivated by what I've lost and who I miss, but rather, they are motivated for the fact that I am still here and how much I have to live for. You could have asked me anytime since 12/1/2003 whether I cared if I lived or died, and I honestly would have told you that I didn't really give a *#!%. Only one thing kept me interested in this world, well, one realistic thing, because Nancy is never coming back. That one thing is Sarah. As much as I wanted to beg God to get me off this planet, I refrained, because I knew that I was her only hope. She'll probably get real defiant and offended when she reads this because she'll want to say she could have made it on her own, but it's true nonetheless. Sure, she could have done something with her life, but the opportunities that I hope to be able to steer her to, and the things I hope to help her achieve will amount to more than anything she could have done leading the life she had back in MA. I want her to have a full and rich life, and I pray that I can help her overcome the mistakes she has made quicker than the years it took me to overcome mine.
So tears stream down my face because I remember the little girl, I remember the joy, I remember the awe she had for me because I was her big brother. I was the giant who lived in the cellar to her friends when she was little, and a couple years later I was the guy in the batman car. I've truly lived a life that transcends the typical, including the recent spleen injury, but never have I felt more affirmed, more validated than when that little girl looked at me the way she did when she believed I was the coolest thing ever.
Conversely, I have never felt more raw, more spent, more crucified than that night my mother had her aneurysm and Sarah looked up at me and wanted to know if mommy was coming home that night. I knew even at that moment that mommy was never coming home, and having to maintain my composure and answer Sarah took years off of my life. My heart will never be fully mended from the way it was broken in that moment. I have never been more lost, truly, it was the begining of my adult life. If I were a more bitter person, I would hold that against God, but I trust that His plan is best, and though I don't understand, I will trust God.
So the tears have come, even at this moment, because I am so thankful to be alive, so thankful to be here now writing this, so thankful for the past couple of weeks with Sarah, and so hopeful for the things to come. I also am afraid, afraid that I will not be able to keep her focused and motivated on school, afraid that a month from now I will start to miss Nancy again, or feel sorry for myself that there isn't someone in my life, or that I have no children of my own. Please God, keep me moving forward and don't let me pause there. She wouldn't want to admit it, but she needs me.
It hit me about an hour ago, as full as it has since I got hurt, how lucky I am to be alive. I believe God saved me that night so that I could fulfill His purpose and because Sarah needed me and He knew that. Thank you Jesus.