“It’s hard to find the perfect time to say something you know is gonna change everything.”
That’s how David Nails new song Let it Rain starts.
Now, he is talking something much different than me but the line is perfect for nearly every situation I think.
Sometimes I think about why things happen the way they do. Just like why Ryan sat in the doctor that day, ears open to the conversation and he missed the news. Every word. Maybe he heard it and it didn’t click. But why? The conclusion I have come up with is simple. God. I think that I found out and I needed time to digest, and I needed to get a grip on the situation and the feelings, because I had to be the one to believe things would be OK because I had to be the one to help others know what was going on, and make them believe things were going to be OK. If for no other reason than to soothe the storm of uncertainty stirring inside their heart because of their love for me.
I told my mother the news went I went to visit her a week after I heard back from the doctor. We started chatting about life and I came out with the comment of, “I went to the heart doctor” she showed some relief that I went but at the same time some resistance because she could sense things were not OK. Standing in her kitchen, her on one side of the counter, me on the other I explained the news. My heart’s tunnel was indeed disintegrating, but right now it’s stable. Then her eyes filled with tears, and you could see the fear in her eyes. I no longer could be the scared one, I had to be the one to tell her things were going to be OK – no matter what happens, it would be OK.
What do you tell a mother that just found out there’s uncertainty in her daughter’s future?
Nothing, there is nothing to say, especially when you are that daughter that that uncertainly directly effects. There are no words.
I told my dad after my appointment, the day of. He was the only one I could bare to tell, and I promised I would. I got the response “Sis, it will be OK.” I learned on his birthday this year though, that he didn’t hear the words I spoke to him that day. As we sat at dinner and my heart came up (about a check up or something?) and I mentioned what I learned. He was surprised. He knew nothing of it. He learned of it that day. Dad took it the best though, he’s that type of person though. Doesn’t worry unless he needs to. I learned that from him.
I have no answers of what the future will hold. All I know is that we are going to keep an eye on it, and go from there. There is no time frame 2 years, 20 years, 50 years, or when the change will happen for the worst. I don’t know if a surgery will be necessary, an implant or how things will turn out- it’s a never failing uncertainty, one that makes you place a guard up as high as you can see and a wall the strength of titanium – so you don’t have to see it, you don’t have to think about it because the moment those things come down – the fear comes into play, the uncertainty – this is when you must admit it’s OK to be scared.
A handful of people know and more have been learning of it, the more comfortable I get with it the more willing I am to tell people. What they [those who have been told] know is told with a hopeful tongue because when you sound fearful, it becomes more real to them, and to you.
(Read Part 1 (The Back Story) Here)