I realize it's been a while since I've uploaded. I have blogs and experiments for you, I just must find a moment to commit to writing and moving pictures around. Bear with me, I will be back for more fun Pinterest things soon.
This post is not my usual banter. With four posts, it's a little difficult to convince you, but I must assure you that it's not normal.
I wish to refer you to another blog (Nightdreams & Daymares) and tell you a little story.
Growing up, I was biologically the oldest child in my family, but in my play and in some fantasies, I was the younger sibling. I always felt that I would be a good little sister, though I clearly had the.... leadership skills (we'll just go with that) indicative of first born siblings.
You can imagine my glee when, in high school, I started "adopting" older siblings. These were upper class men that took a small freshman under their wing and picked on me unmercifully, just as big brothers should. And then one of my Bubba's introduced me to his college age sister.
It was pretty much squealing, and giggling, and love on the spot. I got a big sis. And she's been my big sis for getting close to 20 years (eeep!). I passed out programs at her 1st wedding. The very first baby shower I went to was for her daughter, my "niece," Sarah.
Sarah was an extraordinary kid. Bright. Artistic. Full of the right kind of Sass. Not afraid to stick up for the underdog. For a someone so young, she related well to adults. I remember talking to her at her mom's and step dad's wedding and having to remind myself I was talking to someone that still had diaper-butt when my daughter was born. Sarah also had Type 1 Diabetes.
On Sept 16, 2011, a Friday morning. I got a call from my Bubba. I had just gotten to work. I was tired. My best friend had just moved 185 miles away, and I still felt like my right arm was missing. I had deadlines. I didn't want to talk on the phone. But we live in a day and age where phone calls to cell phones from texting family and friends equates to emergency. The governor could not have stopped me from answering that call.
I will never forget those words, "We've lost Sarah. Sarah's gone..." I remember the rest of the call like watching a movie. I remember dropping my phone on my desk and standing there for a minute. Somehow I got around the corner and down a long hall to my Supervisor's office before I lost it. By the time I got to her office, I felt like I was choking.
I don't remember getting home. I barely remember texting my best friend, "911, text me when you wake up." The next few days were a blur. I only remember pieces. Telling my daughter was one of the hardest things I had to do. Going to the funeral was excruciating. I cried every time I pulled up facebook and saw a blue candle.
What my Big Sis and family has gone through in the last year and a half is unimaginable. Heaven got one hell of an Angel on September 16. Our lives are richer for having had her here for 14 years, and great things are happening in her memory. But it's still not fair.
Type 1 Diabetes is cutting lives short. My heart hearts every time I see a post, or I see a blue candle show up on facebook. Children should always wake up in the mornings. No mom should have to endure what my Big Sis has, but moms, dads, little brothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and best friends are living this Hell every day. I urge you to read her blog and pass it along. Know the signs. Don't let a doctor attempt to contradict your gut instinct. Test those sugars. Get treatment. Pass it to your friends.
We gathered last September 16 to draw with side walk chalk, blow bubbles, and share cupcakes with kids at the local skate park. A young girl came out with her Diabetic Alert Dog, and we laughed when he saw Big Sis's small, chew-toy sized dog and went bananas. I hope we will do the same every September 16.
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Until there's a cure.
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