Dear Annessa,

Now that you're four, and there are a lot of things you know - how to ride your bike, how to operate an ipad better than Mama (pure craziness), and how to snap your fingers (just to name a few).  But there are some things you don't know:


You don't know that a year ago today, all three of our lives were changed forever.  Uncle Dan called me right after I put you to bed to tell me that Daddy had been in a horrible accident. Kathy came a picked you up and took you back to a wedding see and her family were at.  You danced on the dance floor in you pjs as Daddy fought for his life.  He fought to come back to us. 

You don't know how just you being you got me through the worst moments of my life.  How I would watch you sleep and pray that you would come through this okay too.  You probably don't remember tap dancing in the ICU or  the time you wore your Minnie costume all over the hospital - making everyone smile.  You might not remember practicing your letters in the waiting room or all of the stuffed animals, treats, and toys people dropped off for you to help pass the time. 

But mostly, what you don't know, and that I hope someday you will comprehend, is that you are the reason Daddy and I kept going and continue to keep going.  We love you so much that there just are no words.

Sometimes I wonder what you'll remember.  Will you remember how when Daddy finally heard your voice after so long that he reached out to give you a hug with tears dripping off the corners of his eyes as he lay in the hospital bed?  Will you remember the tube with the "milk shake" in it that fed Daddy?  Will you hear the soft beeping of a hospital monitor and will it bring back memories of your childhood?
I want you to know that you are so loved, and all you have to do is be you.  Wonderful, curious, energetic, sweet you. 

There were so many people I wanted to write to today - Daddy's doctors, the flight nurses, our dear friends and family who supported us in so many ways.  And maybe one of these days I will sit down and write to each of them (Lord knows I have written to them in my mind a hundred times over), but today, I wanted to write to you.

I want you to know that just you being you has made all the difference.

Love you to the moon and back,
                 Mama

It's almost been a year...

The last few days, I have just had this uneasiness in my stomach.  I thought maybe it was back-to-school-jitters. But I've met the kids, their families, and even attempted to teach math.  So, nope, it's not that.  But tonight, as I watch Rich get ready to bow hunt again (with lots of help from family and friends), I am realizing that the anxiety I'm feeling is in preparation for the "big day." 

Just hours before the accident, Ness, Shannon and I were picking apples.  Bags, and bags of apples that were never made into pies.  Never dunked in caramel. That morning I had dropped Ness off at Megan's so I could pick out light fixtures for crying out loud.  Sometimes I look back at the girl that was walking through that day and think about how stupid she was.  She had no idea what was coming.  How could she Not Know?  Couldn't she sense that something Bad was about to happen?  Why did she give a shit about staying on budget for the lighting?  Why was she so ticked that all of the Honey Crisp apples were gone?  Will that girl be able to go apple picking this year without have a complete mental break-down?

When I really think about That Night, I can't believe any of us survived.  Looking back, I realize how little I really understood.  I remember feeling so frustrated with my mom in the early days when she mentioned the fact that our house would need modifications.  "Why?"  I thought.  The hospital will give him new legs and he will be walking before he leaves.  I know it." How little I really did know.  Was I protecting myself so that I could make it through the days and nights ahead - be the wife I needed to be and the mom I needed to be?  Make the decisions I needed to make?  Probably.  But, I'm not sure the denial makes it any easier now.

Now the tears come easily.  6 months ago - I couldn't make myself cry if I wanted to.  I was surviving.  Now, I am coping.  We all are coping.  I see it in Rich's eyes.  I even see it in Annessa's eyes at times when she remembers that Daddy can't walk down by the creek with her or that Daddy can't throw her in the air at the swimming pool.  Now she has to settle for mom's weak attempts.

Still, I watched the two of them dance today and my heart was happy.  It was a wobbly looking little dance, but it was my daughter dancing with the dad she almost lost.

I listen to her ask questions like, "Daddy, why can't boys be married to two people? I want you to be married to Mama and to me."

"We can't get married honey - someday you will find a boy you love and you'll marry him. Maybe in college like me and your mom.   But I'll be at your wedding to walk you down the aisle."

Yep.  You will.   Thank God you will be there.