Monday, June 11, 2012

Rainbow in the Dark


Brain Tumors

Pancreatic Cancer

In the dark of the night, I go searching, seeking. I tend to surround myself in these kinds of sad stories. My mom calls me morbid. At first, I questioned the fixation...but continued to devour every word. These people, these stories, they mean so much to me. In a sense, I feel I am fighting their battle right along with them. I feel their pain, and when they are on an up, well so am I. But of course, when that pendulum swings, I go right along with it. 

There is so much pain in this world. So I began to question, along with my mom, don't I have enough for one hundred and two lifetimes? Why would I want more?

My mom calls me morbid. I beg to differ. While I care so very much for all of these individuals, these families, and for the struggles they are facing now, and in the future, I have finally figured it out. It took me years. I suppose I am slow. What was I getting by combing over these sad stories? Wouldn't it make more sense for me to seek out happy, inspiring, uplifting type things in my hazy shade of sadness? One might think. Or maybe you already understand.

Much like I have asked you to Use Me, I finally realized, I am using these people, too. They are helping me to cope with my very difficult situation. They are helping me to feel more appreciative for what I have.  I now realize, I have to dig way deeper to unearth this appreciation, and for this very reason, I am deemed morbid. 

I can't tell you how many times I finish reading these blog posts and wake up the next morning and say, "Hey Dave, do you want to take Rainey and Aviana to San Francisco today, or to the beach, or do you want to...?" I just have an extra pep in my step, and a huge, stupid grin on my face. Why? Because we are not dying, we are living. Just knowing that even though Aviana can't do anything, at least we all have our health, and not one of us is in a hospital, hooked up to those dreaded machines. It's a good feeling to know that we are still, to some degree, a grab and go kind of family : )

I have to say though, there is a certain level of guilt that washes over at the very same time. As I am making my way through my appreciative day, I am fully aware of all of these families who are in the hospital - hooked up, in the trenches of their lives, and fighting the fight of all fights : (  

These people, these families, while I support them and carry them throughout, they are also my beautiful, brightly colored rainbow in the dark. 


  1. I do the same thing. I have several blogs like those bookmarked on my computer and I read them on a weekly (if not daily) basis. My husband and friends all think I'm crazy and morbid but I feel connected to these people and I guess I also "use" their stories in the same way you mention. I guess it makes me realize that no matter what I'm struggling with at any given moment, I need to be thankful for all of the things I have in life.

  2. I don't think you're morbid. I think you're learning things from other people's experiences.

    And you are so right. We are alive & need to act like it! I have been failing in that area lately. Thanks for the reminder!

  3. What a beautiful title. And no, you are not morbid. Life is full of morbid things and the people in "the trenches," or those who once were, don't take things for granted. I think that is what it is, relating to the hurt and the scary things, like not knowing the future.


    I was going crazy! Our gmail accounts got juiced up big time and I couldn't log in to the blogs I'd been following for YEARS.

    Oh honey...I have MISSED you and Dave and Avi SO much.

    I think it is amazing that you say you are grateful for things.

    I was sitting here in my bed having a bit (okay a bit) tantrum over some mental health crap and then I FIND YOU AGAIN and THESE are the words you wrote me?

    mercy. I needed you and your honesty tonight.

    Phew. I found you again.


  5. Makes perfect sense!!! Great title!!

  6. I have done the same thing as well you said it well it's our rainbow in the dark