We were given another day with Candii. She continues to hang onto this life. It makes one wonder who she is waiting to say goodbye to or what task is yet to be finished. Sometimes her breathing is so good and her temperature is down that we have false hope. It is quickly shattered when she becomes easily agitated and upset. We had many blessed moments with her today where we could once again converse with her. She had her eyes open and was looking at us so we knew that she heard us when we told her we love her and that we would always love her. We continue to tell her that though we will miss her and our hearts are breaking, we will be ok and she can walk into her Father's awaiting arms. I can't say the words out loud to her, I have to whisper them in her ear as to say them any louder is impossible. I can't get the words past the lump in my throat. There is a large part of all of us screaming, "Candii don't go!" I feel like there is so much I never got to say or memories that were never made. For short moments we laughed today as we reminisced about how much she loves to tease Shawn and how one weekend we forced her to watch the Lord of the Rings movies even though she hates them. We said goodbye to her tonight not knowing what tonight will bring.
Brenda, one of Candii's home health aide, visited. Candii enjoyed her visit immensely. Her Uncle Craig also made it in from Colorado in a 12 hour drive. These joyous reunions are bittersweet. The hardest part of the day for me was watching Evie interact with the auntie she doesn't know is dying. Auntie Candii's hand was hanging partially off the hospital bed and Evie walked up to hold her hand and then laid her little head in her hand.
I sit in the family home tonight as I did last night to write this. Reminders of Candii scream at us from every corner. Her air mattress that she spent so much time in. Where Shawn would "wrestle" with her and where I learned to be careful hugging her. She trapped me good that time. Her favorite Nancy Drew mysteries are in the bookshelf. Her bib is on the counter. Her body pillow waits on the rocking chair. There is pudding on the counter that she will never eat and medication that will never be taken. I am seated at the kitchen table where she will never eat again. There is an emptiness here without her. A quiet that I never new existed because it was always filled with her love of life and family. How does one cope with this daily if not minute reminders of one who is loved so much? How do we ease the pain? I cling to God's word, which reminds us that God is control. "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11)
We love you, Candii Cane! We will always love you!