Andrew and I love road trips. We love road trips because
some of our best memories together and best conversations have happened during
road trips. I don’t quite know what it is but we always know a car ride is a
great time for us to connect. I’ll never forget our first road trip to Andrew’s
home, 5 ½ hours north, a little over a month after we met right after fall
semester finals were finished. Or the time we were on a road trip through Texas
and had to drive up the coast from Corpus Christi to Galveston and never even
turned the radio on.
Nowadays, a road trip or just going for a drive allows a
little bit of peace and quiet while our boy’s nap or watch a movie and usually
involves a stop at Dunn Bros.
The road trip to and from my parents a few weeks ago was
another great conversation.
Andrew and I got on the subject again about the loss of Max.
In a more matter-of-fact manner we discussed how upon receiving Max’s fatal
diagnosis we were extremely concerned about the future of us. Remembering how
PPD and PTSD almost tore our family apart after the birth of Jack, we both
agreed we had no idea how we would weather this storm at first. Besides the
fear of grief and loss was a fear of loss on an even deeper level—our family.
We began to just reflect a bit on how we got here, almost 5
months later, still standing and still standing strong. He began to paint such
a great picture in my head about our family and what that looks like I thought it
was an awesome analogy to tell you about.
Andrew explained that families in general all start with a
foundation. It can be built on many different things-- good or bad. A
foundation is a foundation. Foundations that are well built with love,
compassion, and receive ongoing care are strong. We know that and fight to keep
our marriage and foundation strong every day.
After a foundation is laid comes the bricks. The bricks are
all the tangible things in our lives that build a solid shelter around us.
Things like our family, our jobs, our home, are all part of the bricks we use
to feel safe, strong and construct more on top of our foundation.
The mortar is literally
what keeps the bricks together and sturdy from crumbling on top of us. The
mortar of our shelter is the intangible things in our lives. It is the friendships
we have, the faith we rely on, date nights, family memories, and everything
that makes us realize how beautiful life here is.
So why was this so enlightening and helpful?
Andrew and I agreed that the earthquake of Max’s diagnosis
hit our shelter hard. It shook our foundation to the core; it cracked a few bricks,
and broke up some of that mortar that we had. We still feel the aftershocks and
ripple effects. There is still the apprehension and worry to go out into the
world again, wondering if another earthquake with hit us hard enough to really
make us crumble.
Even though we live
with the concern that our shelter cannot take much more, we have chosen to
rebuild and repair the damage and that has helped us the most. Just simply
making the choice to wake up each day and get out of bed we are continuing to
rebuild and repair. We have continued to create family memories, went on a date
night or two, and honored our son, Max who we cannot take care of here. We
created even more mortar in our lives, to pack into more bricks,that will allow
us to build higher on an even stronger foundation than before.
The cracks in our bricks will never be forgotten though, no
matter how much mortar we pack into them. There is still evidence that
something indeed tragic happened. But we wouldn't want it all to look neat and
pretty anymore because that wouldn't be a true reflection of our lives at any
point. Our patch work tells a much more humble and thankful story now.
