It wasn't that I wasn't mindful of it. I just couldn't....grapple with it.
February third is the day I always think of Jorge's parents: Their unbelievable loss. Their unbelievable courage and kindness. Their unbearable grief. But this year, although they didn't know it, another part of their son is dying. I think I will not write them about this. It is not something they need to know. And it's hard. Really, really hard.
February 4th is the "kidneyversary." It would have been TEN YEARS if the kidney had made it. Ten years. I cannot compare my grief to theirs, but I am grieving, nonetheless. Babygirl has lost her freedom, her energy. Hemodialysis doesn't suck as badly as peritoneal dialysis did, but....it sucks.
So last night we watched the Superbowl. We had snacks. We enjoyed the game. But every now and then I thought of that Superbowl, 10 years ago, when we had SO MUCH hope that the battle we'd been fighting was over. We were, obviously, overoptimistic.
DeeDee
