There are two stories here...
I remember being angry with the very caring medical staff in the ICU; i remember thinking - "we just need to let her go" because I believed my daughter, the spitfire, the fire cracker, the girl who always won, was not lying there. So, I signed the papers for organ donation; I accepted the results of the blood flow tests to her brain, and I walked out of the hospital while her body was still laying in the ICU. Joey and I went back each night to kiss her good night until patients who needed her organs could be found and prepped. We knew the Taylor we loved was gone.
.However, in the days since I am often hunted by the idea that I left her. That I wasn't there to talk to her through the storm. That a good mother would not have left her there alone. That a good mother would not have.... The story comes like a rogue wave, evil in its intent, pummels me and rolls me over face down staring at the bottom of the ocean with the weight of doubt and fear threatening to sink me.
I have a definition of life - and it isn't lying in a bed with a machine that breathes for you in empty, rhythmic time. When I am no longer looking at the bottom of the ocean, I can remember that and reach for this second story... I have a God who is sitting in a chair telling me again and again he won't leave me and that we can talk through the storm. Because there is always going to be this storm and I am not the commander of this ship.
On Wednesday, a kind soul left snickerdoodles on my desk last week with a heart-felt note.... "snickerdoodles might make it better for a moment...You honor Taylor in all that you do..." I've asked around - my best guesses for whose heart reached out but have yet to discover who baked for us. I shared them with the kids waiting for the late bus that afternoon and brought the rest of them home to the boys. Wade hardly let his father have the one remaining bite of the last cookie.
Snickerdoodles for the storm, a reminder that even though the world has moved determinedly on - people remember. The moving on is a cruel necessity - the remembering reveals grace and mercy.
"you honor Taylor" when you are kind to us...
She wanted to be an organ donor as Taylor Renee also knew what being alive really meant. She knew better than I do - how to be alive - She gladly and willingly checked that box.
I hope the hunt ends soon, that I can have the confidence I did that day.
I hope we continue to honor her.