700%

Thanks, first and foremost, to all who found a way to touch us yesterday. It was a day, very much a day, and we got through it together. It was the first time I permitted my children to play hooky. That says something. We took a family hike, had all our meals together, and Lee and the boys set up an altar for Connor.

A few days before, I got home from I think basketball, and there was a package from me from my dearest Anne. If you have been reading here for a while, you'll already know that Anne and I go backc to the Utah Shakespearean Festival, and that when Connor died she hopped on the train and came down and stayed for days, helping us (mainly by doing dishes, if you ask her) and keeping the homes fires burning alongside our families who also flocked to our sides.  Her daughter is one day younger than Connor. Long story short - we're tight.

Anyway, I opened up this slightly lumpy package, and found this:

Then, I started to cry.

700% is the overtime we had with Connor. The doctors told us he would likely die before his second birthday, possibly before his first. But he didn't. He showed us from the first moments of this dark path that he was not going without a fight. And now I have a bracelet that reminds me of him, and of his fight, that I can wear every day. If someone asks me what it means, I can choose to tell them the whole long story, or I can just say, "It's a family thing," and hope they leave it at that. But I like these reminders of him that I can wear outside, especially ones that fill me with pride because it accounts for all his fight, and our fight too. Without knowing it was happening, he gave me the gift of unending fight. And these days, there's a lot of fight that's needed, so I will wear it to remind myself that I can't give up.