The world has always been broken because human beings are broken; the world just reflects this. That is why I turned away from the world a long time ago. It was a time when I heard the words that my only daughter had cancer. Nothing to do but do the best I could under the circumstances. My world had been rocked, as had the world of my husband and our son. He was seven and she was almost four. St. Jude’s became our home away from home, as she had to clock in on a monthly basis.

It was an ordeal to be there. I once saw a gurney carrying a child as pale as death itself. Her father turned to me and said, “There are some things worse than death,” and that is how I felt about St. Jude’s. I am sure his child died, as did ours. My brother opined that they would be doing things to her that would be as cruel as the cancer. Maybe, he said, it might be better to let the cancer take its course.

He was right; she was put on a severe chemo that had her vomiting all night the day she received it. And it only kept the cancer away for a little over two years; then we were right back where we started. Only this time we knew that she would be dead in a year. She died such a valiant death and her lustrous long hair once again framed her little face as she lay in her casket. Sleeping Beauty—we now had our own, only a kiss would not awaken her.

Decades later, her father would receive his fatal diagnosis of multiple myeloma and we laid him to rest two days before Christmas in 2004; he had just turned 63.

So how are my son and I doing? Remarkably well, considering that I have some neurological issues that keep me at home most of the time. I don’t mind this; in fact, it is one of the few pluses of the issues. I can stay home full-time and I no longer travel.

My brother has now been in hospice care for about two weeks. My sister got to see him; she says he is very confused and his daughter confirmed that in an email. She says he can’t figure out where he is or why he is there. His kidneys are failing and he probably cannot see well anymore. The last few days before our little girl died, she was blind.

My soul is broken into pieces that cannot be put back together. My family knows this and they don’t expect me to be strong. So I lead a very small life. Rob and I went to Home Depot today and I got some flowers for the deck.

I am wrestling with whether to return to daily writing on the blog. People, for the most part, have quit donating and I feel there is worth in what I write. At a time in my life when I dare not complain, knowing how financially strapped most people are, I will have to give myself more time to listen to what my heart is telling me. The heart is the only thing worth listening to….