Thursday, June 01, 2017

Going Home

What is it about home?  I guess, as parents, we should be happy that our child wants to return.  It means we have done a good job. We have made "home" a haven, a place of rest and rejuvenation. 

Sometimes the journey is to provide solace for the last days of a child or a parent or a loved one.  Home.  A place of good memories, hard times conquered, times of peace, times of joy, times of sadness.  But most of all it is our sanctuary. 

Why do we question a Salmon's desire to return to the place of its birth.  As humans, we seem to want to return to our place of comfort and relief. Our own bed, our own "stuff," familiar sounds, smells and simple things like dogs barking in the morning. While Mary-Elizabeth has never been explicit about her wishes, if a choice should have to be made. But whenever a child knows they are done with treatment and wants to go home, she is very adamant. She wants to know they were able to do so.  

We have not had to face the choice, but we have known those who have.  We have been part of those discussions and have tried to be helpful.  Sometimes it simply is not possible.  So much has been done to treat a person that such a move would end their life before they could make the journey.  I know after the transplant Mary-Elizabeth had 8 or 9 IV pumps.  I don't think our electric system would have been able to handle the power needs. Sometimes distance and medical fragility keep it from happening.  Sometimes the thought of the death of a child being part of the continued fabric of a home is the real consideration.   

I recently re-read the blog of a special friend of our Jai Anderson.  She took Allistaire home to continue her journey from a place of comfort.  Allistaire wanted to go home. She wanted to be where she had known only love and support and comfort.  She did, she spent time with her family. They spent time with her and then she left them to spend time trying to figure out how to live with her departure.   

Loss of a child is a post for a million other days.  It simply is.  For now I will not know the depth of that pain but will imagine it at times in my deep dark fears that swirl around being a Cancer Mom.  I just deeply hope everyone is able to go home. 

I have several pictures of Allistaire that I have used over the years.  I love this one. 

 But this is the one that haunts me.  This was taken just after Allistaire died.   She was at home. She was with her family and she was in her favorite bed with her pink sheets.  

Home is powerful place.  is where Jai shares her journey.

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