Jillian’s motto. The word’s I try to honor and live by. The
words I use to inspire. But at 4:00 am, those words mean
nothing. I’m alone with my thoughts with only my pup allowed to see my mask
unveiled. Is it really a mask, or just who I am today? I think it’s both.
Halloween has always been a favorite “holiday” of mine. For
years I’ve decorated my house inside and out. Looks like Vegas. The more
decorations the better. Tacky? Yeah. Do I care? Nope.
Last year my house was
dark. There was no one home to answer the door as I was in Gobels taking care
of Jillian. I drove straight from her place to help Josh and Kaytie as
they took their kids trick or treating in their new neighborhood. I didn’t get
home until all the goblins had gone to bed.
This year I was home, but I didn’t decorate. Instead, I
passed out candy in between packing up Jillian’s room. I knew it wasn’t
going to be easy, in fact I’ve been avoiding it. As I’m packing away all of
Jillian’s soccer trophy’s and medals, it felt as if she was in the
room with me. We were sharing stories, singing our hearts out to the
Backstreet Boys as we barreled down the highway toward some soccer
tournament in some state. We were just hanging out. Doing what we’ve always
done.
But in the quiet dark of the early morning hours, the
reality hits yet again. Jillian is not here. I just packed up her room.
And what I felt this morning was guilt. Yes, we can add guilt to my crazy
collection of emotions.
Guilt that I was unable to protect her from melanoma.
Guilt that I didn’t know the dangers lurking underneath the glass of those tanning
beds. Guilt that I thought her freckles were “cute”. Guilt that the only worry
I had from her frequent sunburns was whether she was in pain.
No one needs to
fix it for me by telling me I’m not guilty and shouldn’t feel that way.
I’m not going to debate my feelings. I am guilty.
The awareness I’ve tried to share about melanoma has many
faces, too. I want to educate. I want to expose the freaking beast. I want to
prevent another family from having to pick up the pieces of a shattered life. I
want to honor Jillian. But by digging deep, I’ve discovered another reason.
I want to make it up to Jillian by helping to save lives through these
efforts. I didn’t save her life. I hope I can help save yours.
“Laying out and tanning beds pretty much screwed me”.
~ Jillian Hayes
I’m still standing, by the way. A little wobbly from time to
time, and plenty of scabs on my knees, but I’m up. It’s 7:00 am now, and
the sun will be rising soon. It always does.
~Peace
Jillian will be walking with you every step of the way. Hugs to you.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Karen. Hugs right back!
DeleteI cannot imagine or i can only imagine(which is it) what it feels like packing up my Angel baby's room. My eyes are welling up just thinking about you doing this . God Sue I wish it were different. I am sorry. I am glad though that you continue to write. We learn and hopefully you heal,little by little.
ReplyDeleteI wish things were different too, my friend. But they aren't and I'm learning. And healing, little by little. I love you.
DeleteYour testimony will make a difference. May your knees ever keep you from sinking when you fall.And may God lift you up and keep you strong.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind words. They too, help with the healing. I have no doubt God will do just that. He's pretty cool that way. :)
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