Okay guys, this is not a political blog so this will not be about politics, but I am acknowledging the many whose lives have been torn apart recently due to aforementioned politics. I feel you, don’t give up. These past couple months have been very challenging for me and friends due to health, losses, and overall “bad stuff”. Despite it all, we find ways to carry on. We find new ways of being okay, we accept the pain and the hurt and we find new reasons to live. Sometimes it just has to be enough that in this very moment you agree to hold on through the next. It is okay to not be okay. Sometimes it is enough to hold on to the belief that life in and of itself is valuable, even when you can’t formulate a reason for things. And if your me, sometimes you hold on to a lesson in a book or movie, holding on to the belief it is true.
The title of this blog comes from an amazing young boy who, unfortunately, lost his 10 year battle with a rare disease. Anyone who knew him knew that despite 80+ surgeries, near constant hospitalizations, daily pain, and 2 failed marrow transplants, he loved his life. He dedicated his life to others and never complained. One of his catchphrases was, “if you can’t see the good, make the good”. I am so very thankful to have had the pleasure of knowing him, even if it was ever so brief. Irrational as it is, one of the hardest things about losing him was dealing with the feelings of why him and not me. I feel like he had so much more to offer the world, though I know he is home now. I will do my best to spread love and light the way you taught me, you are missed. Thank you to all my friends and family who have supported me through this time.
“‘Yes, thats’ so,’ said Sam. ‘And we shouldn’t be here at all, if we’d known more about it before we started. But I supposed it’s often that way. The brave things in the old tales and songs, Mr. Frodo: adventures, as I used to call them. I used to think that they were things the wonderful folk of the stories wen and looked for, because they wanted them, because they were exciting and life was a bit dull, a kind of sport, as you might say. But that’s not the way of it with the tales that really mattered, or the ones that stay in mind. Folk seem to have been just landed in them, usually — their paths were laid that way, as you put it. But I expect they had lots of chances, like us, of turning back, only they didn’t. And if they had, we shouldn’t know, because they’d have been forgotten. We hear about those as just went on — and not all to a good end, mind you; at least not to what folk inside a story and not outside it call a good end. You know, coming home, and finding things all right, though not quite the same — like old Mr. Bilbo. But those aren’t always the best tales to hear, though they may be the best tales to get landed in! I wonder what sort of a tale we’ve fallen into?'”