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Journal Tuesday, May 6, 2008 2:45 PM CDT ~Mignon McLaughlin, The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960 It’s hard to believe that Mother’s Day is almost upon us and my sweet Harrison has been gone almost 3 months. There are days when I wake-up and it still does not seem real, like something I dreamed might happen but was too horrible in every way to really happen. But it did, and we are still here and he is not… Looking back at last year’s journal around this time, I find that I am jealous, of even myself. For last year, I spent Mother’s Day with Harrison. I could touch him, laugh with him, kiss him and adore him. He was feeling so well, looking great; how is it that one year later I am left without him, with just my memories to cling to, on Mother’s Day. It seems that every day I cannot imagine bearing one more day without him, but I awake and I do [bear the day]. The daily rituals I perform seem scripted, as if they were written to help me survive one more day without him…wake to brewing coffee, make it to the gym [yes I started working out, perhaps with the deluded idea if my body was in more pain than my heart the aching would lessen—not true], shower and find something to do with rest of the day—something that means as much as taking care of Harrison and of course nothing does. Plan B—concentrate on hope—that the feeling we have that the feeling we have is not permanent. So I am trying to stay in forward motion. I have found that what gives me the most relief is the idea of staying “in the fight.” I have been concentrating on fundraising efforts for the Harrison Nichols Foundation [which our family started in 2005] to raise money for other families struggling with Neuroblastoma and to fund research with the hopes of someday finding a cure. We have several big events planned locally, in the next few months. It makes me feel like I am still fighting for him and with him [well sort of…]. It has become increasingly more important [to me] to keep his name alive, his memory alive. So if you see me, please talk about him, ask about his life, tell me a story or a moment you remember about him. So… Here is where I must give thanks to everyone who has done just that. Harrison touched so many lives that the sheer unsolicited willingness from friends, schoolmates, neighbors and utter strangers to keep his beautiful spirit alive has been overwhelming. It’s almost as though Harrison was the first domino in a circle of dominos. He created a chain reaction, one person passing on to the next something they learned, heard or hoped and onto the next and so on and so on… Until every domino in the circle had been touched. There has been a financial scholarship started at his school via the efforts of one father wanting to make a difference. Jeff [a dad from Harrison’s class] ran a full-marathon last month raising-over 6,000 dollars towards the scholarship. A school “good character” award is being given in Harrison’s name. Newspaper articles have been written about his brilliant life and the difference he’s made and is still making. And one of his Neuroblastoma peers-a girl Harrison’s age—a survivor is walking in Central Park this weekend raising money for research in his name. And one of his Davidson Day schoolmates, a young boy in the 5th grade, for a French class writing assignment, wrote a beautiful story about Harrison [whose favorite flower was the sunflower]. This is where I gain my hope, my strength, my will to keep moving…after all…he could not die and then there be nothing…his life was not and will never be about the 5 ½ years of treatment, suffering and death…it will be about the life he gave up for others to gain. So I hope and I pray that… the feeling we have that the feeling we have is not permanent. **see photo album for last May's beautiful pictures Please take a moment to read Jake’s wonderful story. It was originally written in French, I am sharing the English translation [courtesy of the 5th Grade French teacher]. Jake Geller, grade 5, Davidson Day School Once upon a time there was a tiny sunflower. It was orange, brown, green and yellow. It was incredibly beautiful; however it had a very fragile stem. One day a strong wind blew. After the storm, the little sunflower became weak but still managed to smile. The next week there was another storm; however this time it was a snow storm. All night long the little sunflower battled the storm but it was too weak. The next day when all of the other flowers were waking up, they realized that the small sunflower had passed away during the storm. The other flowers knew that they couldn’t possibly be sad because the small flower had already dropped his seeds so that sunflowers could continue to touch the lives of others, forever, and ever, and ever. [thank you Jake Geller,, Gina and Mike Nichols] Hospital Information:
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E-mail Author: gmnichols1@aol.com |
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