Its been quite a while since I’ve blogged. I started working part time a few months ago and it has taken up my free nap time! Judah has also stopped napping so that has taken up my free nap time even more.
Anyway-like most holidays this one feels weird but for a different reason. It was exactly two years ago that I had a meeting with my sister’s doctors at the Neuro ICU and they told us she had global brain damage and that there was no hope for her waking up or for any meaningful recovery.
What cold, harsh words. I remember thinking I felt like I was in a movie. It was one of those moments in life that changed more of me than I could have anticipated. My life is cut into two parts-before Katie’s brain injury and after. This day was the marker to me even more the day that she went to the ER. It was the day they laid out our future and it wasn’t one I wanted.
I still remember looking at the doctor while he spoke such ugly words to us. He wasn’t warm, or apologetic. He said them like he was diagnosing strep throat. “global brain damage. 24/7 care for life. She wont wake up from the coma.” I couldn’t help but think of our beach trip the week before. Sitting in the sand next to each other, watching our kids play. Drinking wine at night while talking about the future trips we’d take. It was cruel. It still feels cruel. She was stolen from me, from her kids and family. 32 and brain dead.
I was explaining to a new friend the other day why I watch my niece and nephew a few days a week. Its so bizarre to sum the last two years up in a sentence or two. I always mention that Katie wasn’t supposed to wake up, but she did. I explain that she wasn’t supposed to be able to communicate, but that she writes “I love you” every time I see her. She cant walk or scratch an itch, or stand, but she can cry. She can feel things and sometimes thats the worst of all. But she has hope, and we all have hope. She asks to hear worship music. She asks to come to church. She asks to see her family and friends.
She says she’s seen angels, she’s felt the Lord near, she’s had dreams and experienced the miraculous. She has sat strong while I’ve sobbed over her, while I’ve screamed at the Lord at her bedside. She’s moaned while I’ve been brave. So as much as it felt like a big part of my world was taken away that fourth of July, I’m thankful that the sister bond wont leave. No matter what a doctor says, or the ugly words he speaks over our lives. We still have each other. In new, excruciating, precious ways. I know that I’ll visit Katie, and God is there by her bedside every time. Countless people have said they visit Kate and see the angels above her head. Its a sacred space in that room, where my kids have learned to pray and where I’ve learned to trust.
I’m so thankful for my sister. That she has risen above the ashes and that she tries like hell to come back to us. I’d take her pain away if I could but in the meantime I’ll be praying that one day soon she’ll tell me she loves me with her words, that if she cries she’ll be able to tell me why, and when I cry she’ll be able to reach up and pat my back. One day!