The floors at Molly Malone's were wooden.
They were flat. They were smooth. They were perfect...
...Ella was able to cruise around in her wheelchair on these floors.
She was able to cruise in and out of her father's past...finding new friends to her in the old friends of her dad. She delighted in their love for her.
Each person that hugged me left me a message; they talked to me in their embrace...if not with their words then with their physical presence; their loving hold of me. Each hug brought a fresh flood of emotions. Each hug was unique.
"Stay strong" they told me.
"Keep going" they encouraged.
"Find us" they consoled.
I looked deeply into the eyes of many and they in mine, capturing the essence of what it means to truly care. To care about the life of a little girl and her family.
I didn't want to leave the day behind. I didn't want to forego the feelings I was having. Amidst the emotion, among the laughter, intertwined with the gratefulness was a feeling that everything is going to be all right.
Living our life since we knew of Ella's diagnosis of SMA has been the most challenging experience either one of us has ever had. Finding a place that allows us to feel some peace about what the future holds for Ella and our family is difficult; for SMA tends to seep deep into our consciences bringing its harsh demands to our doorstep every day.
I felt that my past and present met one another today. Those who brought themselves to us this day came from so many different places in my life. From this meeting of my past and present I felt a sense of peace that has eluded me for so long.
As I sit in the quiet house, knowing my family is sleeping peacefully, I can feel the message so many imparted with their embrace...
"Stay strong. Keep going. Find us"...
How can we not...
...with so many loving us through the most difficult experience we have ever encountered?
