When I started this blog over two months ago, it served as an outlet to get all of my thoughts and feelings organized. It allowed me to begin my healing process. I still have a long way to go, but along the way I’ve discovered a lot about myself and how I want to live my life.
What I didn’t realize was the impact my writings would have on others. The countless text messages, phone calls, instant messages and personal conversations letting me know how I’ve changed the way people go about living their daily lives has left me at a loss for words and humbled beyond recognition.
I draw strength from all of you, a strength that allows me to keep climbing. And for that, I thank you.
A dear friend of mine wrote a beautiful tribute to Laura that she shared during the service. It talked about Laura being lightning and grace. Powerful, full of energy, yet elegant and welcoming to everyone. It’s difficult to put into words the aura that Laura possessed. She glowed, even when she was at her worst. She was a firecracker one minute, then a shoulder to lean on the next.
I miss that immensely. Yet, I see it every single day. I see it in my children, they are my lightning and grace.
Instead of writing one big post about our trip, I’ve decided to write several observations and reflections that happened while we spent our week in Captiva. It was an amazing trip, filled with mostly great moments.
Focusing on the future, never forgetting the past.
As the sun slowly set upon the gulf our first night, I stared at my two children while the waves hit their feet. Each time a wave came in, they’d squeal in delight. Watching my children experience the ocean for the first time was something that I will not soon forget. It was beautiful and bittersweet, joy and grief intricately woven into the fabric of my life.
Laura loved the song, “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel. She had it on a license plate when we met and it was the first song we danced to as newlyweds.
I played this song twice for her while in a hospital.
The first being days after her double mastectomy and the doctors wanted to get her back on her feet to get her circulation going. I remember sitting in the hospital room with her and I could see she was in quite a bit of pain and was reluctant to stand up. I reached into my pocket, grabbed my phone and pressed play, I then extended my hand and asked her if I can have this dance. I carefully helped her out of her bed and held her while slowly rocking back and forth to the song.
The look in her eyes while I held her was one that I will never forget.