We went. We laughed. We cried. We talked...Fiona talked a lot. For all of November, Fiona and I stayed with Grandma and Grandpa-Daddy, and it was good. I had the privilege of sitting with him through his November chemo sessions--he now has a closed chest port that helps administer his intraveinous chemo more easily. His symptoms stayed away for most of the month. We went to a Hornet's basketball game, the local professional team, with my little sister, and Dad's little sister, Aunt Cathy, and it was a great game. We went to the beach together--he played in the pool with Fiona and her cousin Kemp, and some of us even chanced the cold ocean water. Every night I hugged and kissed him goodnight. Every night I thought, "What else? Is there something else I wanted to say, or do, or show him?" But I'll always be asking that question, even if he lives to 100. He is still doing well, though chemo is up and down with different numbers rising or falling, as seems to be common. And so it goes on. The new chemo is showing promise, but new things have continued to pop up. I have hope for this new year, as I do every year, that it will come with blessings--blessing of hard times and good times, joy and sorrow, strengthening and weakening at different times. And so my hopes for the new year come in waves on the morrow....
~run with abandon--even if that's only after Fiona and her new bike skills
~hope for a visit, here in Scotland, from my parents
~pursue adoption
~finally get my yoga certifications (emails were sent today!)
~read more literature that pushes me; challenges
~see more of Scotland with my family--camp more!
~let more things go--dirty dishes/clothes/house--pursue people--have great relationships!
So there it is. Here's to a bright 2016 (though I'm in Scotland, so the "bright" is purely metaphorical, you understand)
