This morning I wrote thank you notes. Lots of them.
I filled an entire loose-leaf sheet of paper with the names of so many who have shown love and solidarity and thoughtfulness in just the way I needed it – without a trace of sympathy because #gross and just flat out no – pity has no place here.
Instead, their deliveries and visits and little happies were given with sincerity and positivity and in the let’s get ‘er done mindset that embodies the Walden worldview.
All the while as I was writing them, though, this thought kept springing to mind.
How do you thank the person who has and continues to do more than anyone, mostly the invisible gestures that no one else can see?
A thank you note is hardly sufficient for the person who taxis the kiddos to and from their respective activities (little socialites that they are).
It falls way short for the one who keeps the doggies fed and hydrated and exercised, who takes the list and peruses the aisles at Aldi and Sprouts and Walmart (I swore I’d never become the person who shops at three different grocery stores, but alas – the savings far outweigh the inconvenience), and the one who ever so carefully puts away the groceries in the OCD fashion that I like to keep our pantry and fridge.
It doesn’t even come close to appropriately acknowledging the one who regularly refreshes vase water for the flowers that cover the kitchen and foyer and dining room, he who vacuums and tidies up as fast as the dogs can molt their summer coats, while also laundering and keeping the veggie patch and flower gardens from shriveling in the beatdown of 100+ degree days.
No, a thank you note cannot capture the affection for the one who sacrifices his own sleep to wake me up because it’s time for medicine.
It cannot fully convey what it’s like to stand in the mirror and look at your incision for the very first time, to take in the different shape with him by your side, and to hear your person tell you that you are beautiful, and that the spot that will become the scar that will forever be there is God’s hand holding you up.
To the faith leader of our family, who sits me down to read Jesus Calling, to the rad dad who makes an ordinary night super fun, rocking out to cheesy music blaring from the smart speaker, to the handsome boy in Sunday School who became my best friend who made me his wife who has my heart and soul and can call me out for my crap and also make me belly laugh to the point that I’m wiping tears from my eyes, thank you. I love you more than words can say.
Now onto the business of moving this little cancer chapter behind us and getting back to our usual mischief and whatnot!