Last night I was at gymnastics with the kids. I called David when I knew he was home from work to say hi and tell him something important, which I can't even remember now. Oh yes, the kids want spaghetti instead of rigatoni, you know really important stuff. Anyway, he sounded off. Something was bothering him. I asked if he was okay and he said he was fine. I assumed he had a rough day at work.
When we were home and all sitting down to dinner, I asked again if he was okay. He said that he heard some bad news at work today. It was about one of his fellow supervisors who he worked with when we lived in Phoenix. This same woman was also in his management training that he goes to every few months. He hadn't seen her in since October as she was due to have her second child any day. He just assumed she was out on maternity leave still. After delivering her child, they found out she has stage 4 breast cancer and it has spread through her entire body. It's terminal. She's terminal. A 31 year old nice woman who has a husband, three year old and newborn is terminal.
It's devastating news. It's sad to think about her husband who will raise two children alone. It's sad to think about the kids who will never remember their mother. It's sad for her to have to leave.
Yet it's news like this that makes us reflect on our own life and be grateful. Why does it take devastating news to make us stop for a moment and tell our loved ones that we love them, to play with our children longer and hold them tighter? This morning I took some time to take a few pictures of my kids doing nothing out of the ordinary. Just to remember an ordinary day as we never know how many we have left.
Emily loving on Noah before school.
Ben flying around the house half dressed playing with superheros. This morning it's Astro Boy. I need to feed Ben some extra cookies to fatten him up.
Ben changing his "costume". In this case, green boxers to blue ones. He made me a picture of spiderman on one side and a heart with his name on the back. That's a heart on the bottom left corner.
Noah insisting on feeding himself yogurt.
Which became more like finger painting.
But if he can't do it himself, he doesn't want to do it at all.
Yes the spoon goes IN your mouth.
I never met Shawna, but my heart breaks for her, for her family, and for all the ordinary days that she is going to miss.