Over the last fourteen days, I’ve had a complete crisis of faith. How did this happen? Why did this happen? How does it happen to such an incredible person, a child? There are times in my life when I thought I’d been low, but this has shown me that there is, indeed, a sort of hell on Earth.
Lately, Ky waxes quite philosophic – not shocking if you know him – but even more profound than I ever recall him being. He kicks it into high gear most especially between the hours of 11 p.m. and 12 a.m. The timing is interesting because it’s often after he’s gotten incredibly sick from his 4 p.m. chemo treatment. I am reduced to a quiet wreck outside his door, while he emerges, somehow, braver than he went in.
Last night Ky was super sick. He’d just downed at least five pickles (one of the only things chemo hasn’t changed the taste of for him). He came out of the bathroom and I crawled into his bed with him, just the two of us in the dark. He asked why I always called him an old soul. He said he, too, thought he’d lived a few lives and assured me that there were more laid out for him. I told him not to rush ahead, he had a lot still to do here, now. He agreed. Then, in a way that makes me feel like maybe, just maybe, a diety of some sort was speaking through him, he said “It’s not really the things you do, it’s the impact you make on the world, Mama.” And just like that, we realized we could make amazing shadow puppets on his wall. It was, for me, the perfect juxtaposition of his life so far – wisdom beyond his years and a sweet childlike nature that comes from every pore. We giggled as my creature chased his around the room. For a moment, there wasn’t a central line, impending chemo, or a battle – there was just a boy and his mama.
At 4:15 a.m., his last bag of chemo was hung for this round of treatment. A milestone for a boy, his mama, his papa and his sister…and all the people he’s already impacted in this world. I don’t know if I can believe in a higher power right now, but I believe so fiercely in my son. #beautifulthingshappen
The Courage to Ship 
🙂
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As tears blur my vision and then fall down my cheeks, I thank you for sharing your story, but more importantly for sharing your heart. Hugs to all of you!
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Hugs right back to you, Mrs. Jones! xo
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Most beautiful thing I have ever read. I am sitting here sobbing, but also so happy that one round is done.
You two are so strong, and we love you so very much.
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Thank you, Vivi. We love you too.
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You and your family have been in the prayers of our family and church as well as those around the world. You know so many of these people and have touched many of their lives. It is hard to sit here and read what you and your family are going through without shedding tears and my heart breaks for Kyan and all of you. We know he can be beat this. You have a real gift for the written word. Remember, even if your faith is a little rattled right now, God understands. Using these words is like your prayer to Him and you are sharing how you feel and He wants you to do just that.
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Thank you, Peter.
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I just want to give my little sister a hug. I love you all so very much.
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We love you too.
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Your entire family has been in my thoughts since hearing the news. Prayers for strength to Cappy! I’m always here for you all my friends, following you folks through this difficult journey. Amazing that your fam have been able to find those beautiful moments.
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Thank you, Alan.
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God bless as you travel this uncertain and winding road. We have traveled it too. Prayers, hugs and love to all of you. Kids are resilient little buggers and seem to hold us up through the process
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Thank you, Ann-Marie. Thanks, too, for the beautiful card. He’s absolutely holding us up – I’m not even sure he always realizes it. His strength is beautiful and inspiring.
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