When last I posted I was bitching. Now it’s a few days later, a few feet of fallen snow and a whole new perspective. A few days ago Maggie wrote a post, today I went and visited the reason for her post. We do these things: we dedicate posts, we leave comments, we visit.
I am not sure that when I do things like write about sweet Serenity, that they actually make things better, but they give me a sense of having used what I have to help. Today I am writing because in this time of blessings and family I find myself struggling to figure out how to help. I think you hold the key, you there reading this post, maybe waiting for news of the Briar or Avery or the latest update of what Fin can do. I promise a post soon that will give you that and more, but today I need you. I need your ear and then, if you’re willing, your words.
Friday night Sean’s Uncle Dennis was struck by a truck. He is here on the East Coast and as we emerged from what would be the first of three heavy storms, he was snow blowing his driveway. He was struck by a truck that lost control before it had a chance to slow down. 25 miles an hour. This accident was the kind of thing that I had heretofore only read about. Now, it is two days later and it is real. There is no end in sight to the hospitalization. Surgeries. Tests. Worry.
His name is Dennis and he is without question the most gentle soul I have ever known. He has, since the first time we met some eight years ago, treated me as both family and friend. He is the kind of person who always listens before speaking. When he sees you his face lights up in a way that makes you feel as if you are special; as if you have a story that is exceptionally riveting. He just makes you feel special, or at least he has done that for me.
Barely a month since losing his mom, Helen (an unbelievably bubbly and sassy woman), he is laid up in a hospital, a hospital his wife works in, and a hospital that is only able to do what it is able to do. Three amazing children— Chefs Ryan and Ian and civil engineer, Erin, sit in vigil, a wife, Debbie, waits struggling between her role as partner and nurse.
I realize this is unconventional for me, but today I am asking you to comment. Take a moment to leave words of encouragement or a prayer. I cannot heal Dennis, but what I can do as he makes the courageous fight to convalesce, is offer your words. You see, despite being related tangentially by marriage, he loves my blogs— reads them more than other family members. Raves about them whenever we meet.
I am hoping that to present him with your words will make him understand how desperately I wanted to help and how fiercely proud I am that he is a part of my family.
Thank you for helping me to help Dennis. I believe in this most magical time of the year, that together, we can make magic.