Autumn

I have always loved the fall season.  Fresh air.  A fresh start.  But for me right now, the fall season is a reminder of pain.  Two years ago, we were so happy.  A new, precious healthy baby boy.  We were looking forward to his first holidays.  His first Thanksgiving.  His first Christmas.  But there was a train wreck coming and our precious boy would be diagnosed with an awful cancer just days before his first Thanksgiving and would spend every other major holiday in his life in the hospital.  As we approach the fall, I wish I could prevent the disaster that was coming two years ago.  I wish I could warn myself.  Watch out!  Something horrible is going to happen.

But I can do nothing but watch it approach in my memory.

Last year at this time, we thought we had been through the worst and were on the road to healing.  Collin had his transplant in the spring, endured horrible complications and refractory graft-vs-host disease that we struggled to get under control.  He was hospitalized for all but one week from April 28th through early August.  We endured some very, very difficult days.  But things were looking up in the fall.  He was home in our apartment.  He was happy.  He was running and playing and eating.  And we didn't know that another train wreck was ahead.  We didn't know that Collin would have to endure unimaginable suffering, day after day, week after week that would bring him slowly and painfully to the point of death.  And I never knew that eventually I would be brought to the point where I would look to his death as a relief from his unbearable suffering.  Because it was unbearable.

But we didn't stop fighting for him.  And instead, healing brought relief to his suffering.

And we were so thankful for that miraculous healing.  So thankful.

But we we lost him, unexpectedly, just when we thought we might be able to bring him home.

And I just don't understand it.  I don't understand it at all.
I don't understand it.



And I miss my monkey.