We are officially home and trying to adjust to all that it brings. Will is doing okay and seems a little better and more present since coming home. He even had enough strength to go to church today, which was incredibly beautiful. I wanted to hold on to every moment and wished it would never end.
Hospice is in full effect with round the clock nurses yesterday and starting today a nurse 8 hours a day and on call. Sitting in the nurses station at the hospital, speaking with the hospice representative is something no one should ever have to go through. I was listening to her, thinking “How did we end up here?” “How am I a 32 year old wife planning hospice care for my husband?” “No one this young should have to answer these questions or make these decisions.” It was so surreal and incredibly difficult. But I want to assure you all that us choosing hospice is not going home to give up. We are fighting harder than ever. We are not giving up on Will and he is not giving up either. We have no idea what the future holds and there are moments that we are overcome with heartache and discouragement. Then in the next breath there is hope and peace. And sometimes both in the same breath. But, our hope is in Christ and trusting that his will is good and even if our peace in this truth is not constant, it is real. In that we also have the freedom to try everything we can as a cure. I don’t know if any of it will work. I don’t know if Will will one day wake up completely healed. I don’t know if Will will see his next birthday. But the truth is, none of us know if we’ll see our next birthday. Will is still here and I will never give up on him. The situation is bad. This can not be denied. I have felt sorrow to the point of it physically hurting and shaking my body, uncontrollable sobbing, not being able to stand or walk on my own from crying so hard. Feeling so sick that I couldn’t eat for days. I have felt emotional pain that I have never felt before and would not wish upon anyone. My heart breaks and then breaks more until I felt there was nothing left to break. But, as a friend told me awhile back when I was sharing about my fear of what the future might hold, he said all we have is now. And, right now, Will is here. He is alive. He is living and loving and crying and laughing. He is holding hands and hugging and sharing stories and cracking jokes. And, all of this in the few hours a day that he’s awake. Our days are no more guaranteed than his. So whether his last day in near or if his body begins to heal and his last day is years from now, I know we have the moment we’re in and we want to live that moment well. Will has taught and is teaching me how to do that. He has shown me how to live and love now.