It's time to start thanking

I am someone who lives out loud, but reflects very quietly. I live day to day running & smiling & rushing about. I have spent the past several years doing just that & trailing at my heels (or following at their oft-sparkly heels) lots of little ones around the streets of Paris. As such, I am not one to shout my dreams or woes at the rooftops. When I wish to tell someone how remarkable they are, I miss the fleeting moment and regret. I told John recently that I am not a thinker, I am a do-er. After 15 years of marriage, he should, after all know that about me. In the end, I figure people don't really want to hear about me. There is nothing news-worthy to tell. Life is good. Very good. Or at least it has been until recently.

Though I have reflected & echoed and corrected & edited John's writings about Parker to this point, perhaps the time has come for me to start adding to this pot before it starts boiling over for me.

Though I am reserved, I have always been thankful. Anyone who knows me will attest to that I think it is important to express gratitude. Most people who know me have received multiple "thank-yous" from my quick & sloppy hand.

Albeit it impossible to neatly wrap up all the emotions I have felt in the past 5 weeks, I feel I can start to express myself with thanks. This, is easy for me. This is good by way of Parker. This means perhaps I am coming out of the critical phase enough to verbalize my appreciation for you. Part of the reason I have remained so silent is that the outpouring of love we have witnessed has been monumental. I was heaven-bound---or residing-- for days & weeks and when I finally started descending back to this planet I found it nearly impossible. How could I ever look at things the same again? Every single aspect of my life has changed-forever, I hope. The manner in which I see things and people has changed. Even the way I breathe seems to have changed. Things I thought were once important have no meaning at all to me. I smile more--is that possible? Maybe I smile longer. I also cry more-and harder. I cry for sadness, but also for love. I smile and cry for you. For all of the people who carried me into that heavenly place---or prayed me there--or allowed me to stay there--as long as I needed to be there , to commune with heavenly beings, to see heavenly beings, to feel fortified by spiritual things.

Thank you. Thank you for carrying me, us. Thank you for praying for us. Thank you for believing in miracles, in God, in faith, in Parker. Thank you for trusting your gut feelings that "all would be well" when it certainly appeared not to be, but I felt peace anyway. Thank you for sending us written notes, emails, inspiring quotes. Thank you for sharing your trials with us-often secret trials and showing us that you survived, and though even if Parker did not, we could.

I have realized our capacity to learn and love is so much greater than our comprehension of such things.