A letter to Holland
August 29th, 2010Too many thoughts to process. I’m not able to fully reflect on this past week. Writing and putting my thoughts down may help. I’ve always respected how Ben Franklin’s autobiography was actually a series of three letters to his son. Each letter was at a different time and distinct phase of his life. Here’s an open letter to you, Holland, my sweet little girl:
Holland, we almost lost you when you were five. It’s been the scariest 8 days for your mother and I. We’re so very fortunate to still have you in our lives. Your friends and family came together in love and hope for you. You’ll see our testament on our primitive social networking tools. Our collective emotions and your entire ordeal are chronicled for you to look at later in life. Your accident and illness have been public in many respects. We all found solace in sharing our grief, prayers, shock and hope together in a public forum. Your generation may mock our methods, but this is what we had at our disposal.
On Sunday, August 29th, 2010, you became you again. As I write, you’re still a very sick little girl, but your mother and I saw our little girl again for the first time today. More importantly, you saw us, finally cognizant of your own situation. Its been very scary and may continue to be, but you’ve been extremely brave. Your drive and perseverance has inspired us deeply. This is, to me, indication of how greatly you’ll live your life. It makes me profoundly proud to be your papa.
Today was the day you engaged us. After some early episodes of responsiveness, you seemed to take a step backwards mentally. This concerned your mom and I, but the doctors only watched you more closely. It appears that it was your body and mind healing. You needed rest. You needed to block out the scary machines, the beeps and buzzers, and focus on you. Your body knew what it needed. Please always listen to your body.
We are all healing. I’m especially sensitive to the immediate needs of your brother. Your mom is worried about me. I don’t listen to my body. You already know you have the best mother in the world. She’s strong, but I’m secretly worried about her too. Beyond your immediate needs, we now need to work on our holistic health as a family. We’re a young family and we need to be each others’ best advocates. I’m working on that.
The next week will focus on getting you home. We need our nuclear family routine back to fully heal. We’re extremely fortunate to have a community and employer/family at Intel that rallied so quickly and unequivocally to our side. Most families don’t have that luxury. We have the time to heal. Our society is often not so accommodating. We have a healthcare system that would leave most families financially bankrupt. Our generation and previous generations have not been able to fix this basic and broken system. We’re blessed that our recovery is our only concern. Most American families have additional burdens. Caring for the sick is a fundamental and early Christian tenant, dating back to the rise of the religion in Roman society. Healthcare is an undeniable reason for the success and rise of early Christianity. I’m not sure why people in our society choose to forget this.
We love you. You’re so special and unique. Always fight, but be peaceful. I have no doubt. Come home. Start Kindergarten. Live your precious life. I love you so much.