Today we reached the three-week mark since Hannah’s heart stopped working for her. Despite the time passing, and even writing these posts, we keep thinking that it’s still amazing how unbelievable this all is. I mean “unbelievable” in a very literal sense. It’s like the idea of Hannah being gone is so big that, although we know it is true in our heads, there still remains a big part of us that says, “I don’t even know what that means!” It’s too big of a concept to fully sink in. I doubt whether this feeling will ever be completely resolved. I suppose, like most things, time will “heal” it, which may be more accurately said that, with the passing of time, the poignancy will be dulled to a point that we just don’t think about it as often. The scar will form in our minds (meaning the bleeding will stop), other things will continue to require our attention as the day-to-day cares of life never cease, and in time the memory will always remain, but the raw emotion will not be felt as deeply. We will always have four kids. There ages will always be around two years apart, but as the time passes, I think that the lives of the three boys and ours will slowly begin to morph and fill in that void left by Hannah’s physical absence. Maybe like a tree, after having lost a branch in a bad storm, slowly, year by year, heals over that spot, and although it someday “fully heals”, the reality of the lost branch will always be very evident.
Another concept too big to grasp is that of saving four lives. In my mind’s-eye I imagine that the emotions of this whole ordeal are on a proverbial old balance scale. The kind that is typically used with weights on one side and an object of some value on the other. In my twisted way of thinking, one side of the balance contains the emotion and feelings for both us and those who received the lifesaving organs. On the other side of the scale there is some immeasurable amount of weight. This scale always stays balanced, but there is movement of emotion on “our” side as it passes between us and them. So, as time passes, so too the emotions have been passed between us. When we were at our lowest point with grief, they were at their highest level of anticipation and excitement. We left the hospital without our daughter, but another set of parents was getting their “child” back. Now, as their excitement slowly fades with time and the adjustment to their “new normal”, so too, our sadness slowly fades as we adjust to our “new normal”. In the end I see that our sadness will always be proportional to their joy. And, although our loss has had a time and date of finality, the reality is, to a large degree, that like in a relay race, as Hannah’s leg of the race ended, that point in time was only a new beginning for others races to begin. So, what does it mean to lose a life or what does it mean to save one? Beyond the physical facts, it’s impossible to describe. But I do think that the differences are proportional in their emotions.
I do realize that these posts may be a bit “all over the map”. Some posts are more updates, some are more devotional, and todays seems to be more philosophical maybe. Anyway, thank you for sharing some of your time with us. I am not making the news here, just reporting it as I see it.
We are blessed.
P.S. We were able to make up a thank you card that we have been able to send to some that have helped us along the way. It is impossible to send one to everyone so I will have a picture of it posted with this post.
Hannah Helps 