Savoring Moments

Earlier today I was at the grocery store when  a young clerk bounded up to me and Miles and asked how old he was. I responded to his enthusiasm and told him he was almost 9 months. The clerk then told me how big he was and that he and his wife had just had a baby two weeks ago. I told him that he must be tired, he nodded heartily, and then I responded, "Enjoy the moment, he'll be too big and crawling away from you in no time."

It was in that moment, or looking back upon it, that things suddenly made sense.

This blog post has been bouncing around in my head for some time now, but I could never figure out how to put the words and the feelings together. But standing there telling that young - enthusiastic, but exhausted - man to savor the moments, my understanding became clear.

In March my big brother was diagnosed with cancer. Cholangiocarcinoma, Liver Cancer, Stage 4, Terminal. When I heard the news I honestly didn't believe it. Kyle has always been unbreakable to me, that's how big brothers are, but here was a doctor (or two) saying he was broke. It seemed unfathomable.

The following day I went to school, what else do you do? I sat down at my desk and a friend walked in to ask me a question. She hardly got her question out before it changed to, "are you ok?" I told her. I lost it. Cry #1.

We were in Salt Lake that weekend and got busy doing other things, and never went to see him. It was a stressful weekend, we left late Saturday night, drove as far as Odgen when I broke down in tears, we turned the car around, and drove back. Cry #2. It was in fact real. He had cancer. Time was limited, and how could I waste the chance to go and see him? How could I not give him a hug? I didn't want to cry, I didn't want to be a weepy emotional mess, I didn't want to face the reality. But we went back, we saw him, we had a nice visit, it was a good moment.

As chemo began we continued to press forward with emails, instagrams, and facebook. Thankfully Dor started writing a blog so we could have constant updates. But time was flying by. Life still held school, work, home, a growing baby, and this giant heaping 'new normal' as they call it. We try to go to Salt Lake once a month to visit a bit but it seems that our time is crowded and often full of things to do. The months passed and the 'new normal' had just become 'normal'. Then they got this Voice Quilt thing going where you call and "leave a message" about your loved one so their stories will forever remain. I spent the entire month trying to figure out what to say - reliving my favorite memories and moments with my big brother. At night I practiced, and thought, I pondered, I put it off. When I could no longer, I called - 3 times. At first it was it was fine, backpacking stories, fun memories; then it was real, I love my brother, he's always been a hero and I can't imagine Miles not knowing him as that. Cry #3.

Last week Bud gathered the troops for a trip to Hyrum Reservoir to play in the water. It was chemo day so my parents gathered Eliza and Olivia and we all met at the lake. I was out in the water with Eliza, Olivia, Shelby, and Eli playing around on the boat when Lizzie said, "Why don't we do this more often?" I agreed, it was a great moment. So we started to talk about how we were going to have fun in the ocean as we all head to San Diego here in a few weeks.  We're already planning great moments.

And that's the thing that hit me today, life is a series of moments, each to be dealt with in it's own time. Some we toss aside with no importance, others we carefully package up and put away as important dates, but others that might normally go to the wayside or be brushed across with a smile, need to be scooped up and savored. I haven't had enough moments with my brother since March. Cry #4.

I watch pictures come up on facebook or instagram of family dinners, water slides, and chemo days. Suddenly Logan feels so far away. Then I look down at Miles as he takes off down the hall jabbering his funny sounds and I see a million moments already gone. Have I squandered away these moments folding laundry or doing dishes? Have I stopped to appreciate instead of rushing to 'get done'? Have I savored, or have I slurped? It's all going too fast. Cry #5

Truth is, I've cried more than five times, I'm a crier (see Bud's wedding photos for horrific proof). But looking back, those cries, those moments, they're worth savoring too.