LMC and I are sitting on the couch right now. Bennie is sleeping soundly. LMC is playing on the iPad and I am sitting and staring at my blog wondering as my mind wanders around what to say.
What kind of good news can I share?
You, on the other side of the computer who sit and read what I write. You, thousands of you who check in on our family daily- seeing our updates, our hysterics, our grief, our love. You, all of you deserve to hear good news because You have been with me since the beginning.
Brother is doing... so well. So amazingly well. I looked back at some past words I wrote trying to find a path into this simple blog. I had mentioned several times that he has to be seizure free for six months before he can drive. A few days ago, his car pulled into my driveway. Expecting my mom behind the wheel as his car has been shuffled between our three houses over the past six months, I opened my garage door to let her in with Niece.
Brother walked through the door with Niece, keys in his hand. Not wanting to acknowledge this major accomplishment as anything more than a minor occurrence in our day, I flipped my chin in the air with a nod and said, "Thanks for dropping her off. We will return her this evening after supper."
He nodded and gave his daughter a kiss before leaving out the same door he came. The door clicked shut. I looked down at Niece and we shared equal grins before I scooped her up in a great hug.
"Did you like riding with your Daddy over to LMC's house?"
"YEAH! He let me pick out the music and I rolled down my window. I love Daddy. He's the best."
Those soft sweet words from that sweet little girl and it made my heart soar knowing that Brother is continuing to heal. Even in her credulous mind, even she knew this short trip down Main Street, just the two of them, was a feat.
Six months. It has been six months since those twinges turned convulsions overtook his body and collapsed everything he had been working towards. Everything being life. Six eternally quick months of rides from family and friends, six months of fear of having to start the clock over, one hundred and eighty days of progress.
He has made a commitment to our annual golf tournament to volunteer once again and has been at the gym for increasing lengths and increasing number of days, working on building his stamina as the course is large and hilly. He needs every bit he can gain to prepare himself for something that is difficult for even those that are in the best of shape.
He makes me smile. He makes me laugh. He infuriates our oldest daughter when he calls her funny names and she stomps her feet and says, "I am NOT a stinker, Uncle Brother." He encourages us just as we try to encourage him. In the end- he has done it all himself. I cannot make his progress my accomplishment anymore than he can make my work his.
He completes our family, both my little family in this large house and my entire family residing but a few miles apart.
Smile and share in this good news and know that we would not be here if it were not for you.
You who pray.
You who support.
You who read.
You who love.
You who give.
You who ask.
You who are our angels.
We have many more hills to climb and many more uncertainties, but we have forward motion. The car is in drive and we are moving in the right direction.