Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Yesterday was 2 years since our Christmas in July with Owen-which was his last with us. We had a tree up, and opened gifts, etc. Looking back, I am not exactly sure why we didn't just wait a few days until July 25, but I think that we were really not sure how he would be from day to day, and wanted to make sure that we got it in while he was still feeling well.
2 years. So much has happened in 2 years. In so many ways, it feels like it was soo long ago, and also at times like it is still so recent. I obviously wish that he was here with us, waiting for first grade, playing with his brothers (all 3 of them! Like I had told him, if he ever had another brother, he and Anthony would be like the frosting in the middle of a double stuffed Oreo!)
He would be so excited to see all that has happened with Owen's Toybox, as well. People he never even knew are helping other children smile in his memory. What could be cooler?? People who have received toys, etc while they were in the hospital have in donated toys or money in return, to "pay it forward". Again, how incredibly cool is that?
Hoping Owen comes and hugs me in my dreams tonight!
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
I try to remain positive about things in life. People tell me how "strong" I am. I want to tell them that it's all a front. That if they could see inside me, they would see a puddle-y mess. That when they ask "how are you?" I sometimes want to spit back at them "You don't really want to know." Because, really, they don't. Do they REALLY want me to say "You want to know how I am doing? How I am REALLY doing? I am doing really crappy. My son died. Every day from his diagnosis on, I watched him go through chemo and get sick from it. I watched his skin burn from radiation. I watched him puff up from the steroids, and try to be so brave through testing that would make grown men flinch. I had some hope that maybe we would make it when his scan was clear in January, then got the wind knocked out of me in April when his scan showed that the cancer had returned with a vengeance. I knew that that meant that my child only had a little bit of time left with me on this earth. I watched him deteriorate on my couch, and had him die next to me. Do you know what that does to a person? To a mother? It kills a huge part of who she is. It dampens her spirit, and changes who she is forever. So, yes, you can ask me how I am for your own sake. And I will lie and say 'good' for your sake, too, because, honestly, you don't really want to know."
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
Owen is still inspiring people to do amazing things! A big thank you goes out to the faculty and students at Buffalo United Charter School, with a special thank you to principal Tammy Messmer.
They collected toys for Owen's Toybox, and will help to bring smiles to the faces of children who are ill! You guys ROCK!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Hugs to all of us who knew and loved Owen, to those who may not have known Owen personally but have been touched by his spirit, and to those who have experienced their own journey with cancer.
There may be reasons that we may disagree on things. There may be reasons why, otherwise, we may not have ever met. Yet we are here. Connected by the life of a child who was so loved, so sweet, so kind, and lived for such a short time.
May we all remember Owen and honor him in the way we live and see the world each day. There is beauty in everything if we only open our eyes to it.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Owen was diagnosed with medulloblastoma in April of 2007...Medulloblastoma. Something I had never heard of or would have ever dreamed about having to know about, let alone learn how to spell. Yet this tumor in the brain and spine of my 3 year old son would change the course of our lives forever...
Cancer is hideous, horrendous, horrible and many other awful words. However, cancer, medulloblastoma, also taught us about hearts and hugs and finding happiness in everything, in every day.
As with any mother of an angel, I wish that his past had been different. I wish that he had never known life as a "cancer kid". That he had never experienced brain surgery, or radiation treatments, leaving his tender skin peeling and burned. I wish that he never had to have chemotherapy, that killed so many good cells along with the bad, causing him to spend many days and nights vomiting or with diarrhea so bad that we would not make it to the bathroom in time. I wish that he never had to reach up and run his fingers through his hair, ending up with a handful of it before we decided to shave his head.
Owen would do all he could to be sure that he was doing what he could to make others happy, no matter how he was feeling. One day, while lying in bed with him, I began to cry, overwhelmed with emotion. He snuggled in closer to me, patted me and said, "No tears, Mommy. No tears." When I accidentally poked myself recapping a needle when he needed a daily shot and began to bleed, Owen cried for several minutes until I put a band-aid on my boo-boo and finally convinced him that I would be ok.
I wish there were a band-aid for my heart...
Life without my son will not ever be the same. I miss him every single second of every single day. But life without my son would not have been the same. Owen taught me more about life in his 4 and 3/4 short years than I could have learned in a lifetime without him. The pain of losing him will never go away until I am with him again. However, I would gladly experience that pain to have had the chance to have and hold him for the short time that I was able to than not to have had or held him at all.