"And This Year's Dedication Goes To..."

So, every year at the kid's big end-of-the-year school party I make a dedication. It may seem silly to some, but it makes me happy to think of specific special people on this very wonderful, family-filled day. So who will it be this year?

As I go through this very tough year in my mind, I find I not only can't settle on someone, but I feel I am unable to do this "live" at the party. I think it would just hurt too much. So, here are my dedications.

To my mom, who is so fortunate to be called a 'cancer survivor'. Her story is not yet complete, but we are being hopefully optimistic. She was always a stoic pillar of strength while we were growing up. And while you don't always appreciate this when you are a teenager, it made this whole experience not quite as yucky. She has had a positive outlook, and will continue to stay positive. Because of this, I pick you, Mom.

But I also pick my sister. A few years ago she took a trip on the crazy canoe. We can joke about it because she came back to us. Not only is she my best confidante and dessert sharer, she is my friend. She has found a better place to be, and because of that she is a better person. Because of what she went through, she calls me to make sure I'm not taking the same trip she did. We are touchstones for each other, even if we don't actually get to touch! I love her more today than I did yesterday. She makes me feel better about myself. Because of this, I pick you, Valerie.

And yet, still more. This one I abhor, but to not mention Chuck would be criminal. He was my friend. He laughed at me and he laughed with me. He was a great 'balancer' among us. He was great at calming the crazy waters. He sat with me and made fun of people's outfits while our better halves rode crazy coaster rides we weren't interested in. When he barely knew me, he brought news of Luke's car accident all those years ago, and sat with me and baby Rachel so I didn't lose it. He was a genuinely good guy and there is not a day that goes by that I don't see the hole his passing has made and hate it intensely. His tragedy brought out reserves of strength I never knew I had. Because of this, I pick you, Chuck.

And then there is Melissa. My friend has walked through the fires of hell and back, barefoot, with no water to be found. And yet, she still walks. She still gets up every day and tries; for herself and for her children. She didn't sign up for this, she didn't ask for this, and she didn't deserve this. And even so she is finding her way with grace and patience. I have held her up in her darkest hour, and have been behind her ever since. It's been hard to back away and let her get on with the business of living, but she hasn't fallen yet. It's easy for us to say what 'we' would do, hypothetically of course. The reality is miles away from the 'what-if' in your head. She is living, she is not crazy, and she is getting better every day. Because of this, I pick you, Melissa.

And finally, I must mention my furry friend and companion, Maia. I had known her for longer than Luke and I have been married. She terrorized me when she was little, and brought me great joy when I was sad. I loved her soft white tummy and her beautiful green eyes. I liked that you could count on her to hold a grudge. She loved smelly men, apple newton cookies, and clothes on the floor, and not in that particular order. In her geriatric years she taught me what it was to love a thing that was helpless to stop being old and infirm. The ravages of old age are an unlovely thing for such a creature as this. In the end, she taught me that it's okay to let go and say goodbye. You don't have to like it, you just have to do it. Because of this, I pick you, Maia.

And so end the dedications. My eyes hurt from all the tears, but to not do this would go against a force of nature. My love to all of you.

Moral of the story: Some years are hard. Give them their due, then move on.