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11/4

It’s here. Our first “Grief Memorial Day.” At first, I started to call it a Grief Holiday, but that felt so wrong. Holidays are days that are set apart to observe special occasions or events. They’re suppose to be good days-filled with joy and gratitude. A “Grief Memorial Day” feels more appropriate for the mood that clouds the 24 hours of this day on my calendar. I know there will be others, but this is the day we heard the “cancer” word for the first time. Everyone, except the doctors, said, “Just wait for the biopsy…Try not to jump to conclusions;” but, I knew. I knew from the way the doctors were reacting. The looks on their faces-as if they knew what was to come, but they just weren’t allowed to share it…Nor, did they want too.

I wish I would have known on 11/3 that it was our last day of normal. I mean I sort of suspected that that it could be something bad, but I wasn’t prepared for how bad. Of course, Sarah wasn’t feeling the greatest. She wasn’t so sick that she couldn’t be herself though. I remember how she watched the National FFA Convention all day. She was so inspired by every session. I remember the speaker that gave a powerful, almost TED talk, on the topic of fear. How ironic was that?-knowing now that the very next day we would hear something that could have crippled us with fear?

So, 11/4, I will observe you today with mourning and sorrow, as I reflect on how our world changed so quickly in the 24 hours that you claim. I will reflect also on how strong and courageous our girl was for the next 10 months. I’m so proud of how she let God use her journey. It was her journey towards glory. I can only imagine how different this day is for her now—That is where my thoughts will be as I lay my head down tonight. Every day completed, is one more day closer to being with her again and I can hardly wait.

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