He Takes My Heart With Him

Closer

Surgery is getting closer. Twenty days away. We see the plastic surgeon tomorrow.

I find I'm talking too loud, sometimes. I'll be in conversation with someone, family, friends, anyone, and I'll hear my voice, loud and bright. I'll listen to it as it keeps going. I'm sounding cheerful and happy and care-free. I smile and nod and gesture as we chat about something. But my voice is just a little too loud. Inside, I'm thinking of Jack, and something is breaking. This little house of strength that I have built up inside, of positive thoughts and encouraging prayers, is being pushed apart. Fear is pushing at it from all directions and I feel like the house is breaking. It's breaking and I'm grabbing at the pieces and trying to keep it together. And the whole time I'm fighting, quietly and desperately, my voice is too loud.

My husband, Brian, and I have always, throughout this whole experience, tried to be brave and strong and positive. For our other children, most of all, but also for everyone we love. This is hard enough to go through. There's no reason to make anyone else feel worse or worry about us, instead of Jack, by breaking down and showing that we're really terrified that we might lose him. (It hurts so much to even type that. As if, by typing it, I might make it come true.)

My mom can sense it, sometimes, when I feel like I'm teetering on the edge. She'll hug me and won't let me go. And, then, I have to pull gently away. Because if I start to let go, I don't know what will happen. So, I keep chatting about nothing, my voice just a little too loud and my eyes just a little too big, and no one will notice.

God? I'm scared.