Thursday, December 12, 2013


Back in September, when we were still reeling (hahahaha, as if we are not reeling now), my friend Mara told me about her friend Phyllis, who was blogging about her son with AML, a more vicious type of leukemia than Adi's T-cell ALL. When I started reading the blog, it was significantly more optimistic than it is today.

I don't have the words to describe the pain this family has to bear. My neighbor said to me, "Why are you reading that? How is that helping you?"

Of course it's not helping me. Of course it's terribly, horribly sad -- and those words are so, so insignificant. But I tried to explain to my neighbor that I have an obligation to read about Sam. I owe it to Sam, to Phyllis, and to the rest of their beautiful family. Because we don't always get to walk the easy path. We can't just ignore the things that are hard, the things that hurt. Because if it were my son, I would want people to read, to know, to think about him, to feel a pain every day, always, forever.

Today, Adi and I are home, watching the rain outside that seems like it will never stop. Adi is slightly crazy-making today -- every 2 or 3 seconds, he wants me to look at his garbage trucks, come here, go there, give me that, take this. He asks a million questions, gives me orders, makes requests. He is noisy, and, truth be told, a little bit annoying. But I am so, so grateful that he is here, that he is well enough to play, that he is "healthy" enough to be annoying.


Crystal T. said...

I feel the same. I want so badly to help and all I can do is witness and hope that by sharing in the pain, it somehow relieves theirs. And maybe it's also a useless attempt at trying to prepare for the worst with my own child.

Cancer is torture. Pure torture. I could not bear it if I lost Jack.

Abbi Perets said...

Yes, that's what it is--a useless attempt to ward off the worst....