Last year, on a Sunday night I held my children close to me. I held them closer than I ever had. Put my smile on, and said, “I’ll see you in a few days…”
My youngest, barely four years old wanted to know what toys he’d have when he got back to my house…my 9 year old looked at me and said, “Mommy, I’m scared.” I told her, “Ellie, no matter what happens, you have me. You ARE me. You might even try to lose me because this is so hard, but you can’t. I am always always gonna be part of you.” We joked. We laughed…we smiled.
WE smiled because….nothing will ever destroy love.
She didn’t know how true that was – and probably won’t until she’s older… I don’t think *I* knew how true that was.
Tonight, I did what I said I would do: I hosted a celebration of life – a celebration of LIVING….and while I thought I did it because I was fulfilling a promise I had made to myself, I did it because – holy fucking shit – I DID IT.
I have all sorts of emotions that range from relief to gratitude to anger…but I did it. I’m here, and I’m happy, and I’m alive.
I want to tell the story of tonight, but I’m so overflowing that I just have to end with that….
and some photos of joy deeper than can be expressed