And just like that...

...S is gone.

Peacefully in her sleep. After a week of letting her best friend and her husband post four blog entries. In the end, it was not the cancer in her brain. It was not even the cancer in her liver. It was the cancer in her lungs. That made it difficult to for her to breathe. And till the last, she kept on breathing...slowly...and then more slowly. Until she could not.

I guess I expected something to happen. I know I hoped and prayed for it.

On the other hand, her blog is very well-paced, as a result. Oh I know she had more to say. She always had a lot to say. And if she was quiet for awhile, most people knew it wouldn't be for long. How I wish she had been able to say more.

Now, all I hope and pray is that as right as she believed herself to be, I pray she was wrong...and that she is now, happy and rested and healthy, eating her words, and watching over her kids the way only a mom can. I pray that in those few days when she was unable to speak, unable to blog, when it took all her strength just to take in four breaths a minute, that He was speaking to her, and holding her in gentle, accepting, reassuring embrace.

Eleven years ago

I had wanted a boy. Everyone wants a boy first off. I was no different. Add to the fact that I'm not a particularly girly-girl girl, and would not really enjoy "dressing up" a baby like a Barbie doll. But even while the little K turned somersaults within my womb, I had an inexplicable feeling of certainty that this baby was a little girl. And I loved her tremendously from her first little squirmings. And we had already agreed. We would name her after the Hepburns. Katharine for her strength, her intelligence, her unique and memorable beauty and talent. Audrey for her elegance, her kindness, and all that she is. And we already knew, we would call her Kaylee

The first contractions were too easy, I thought. Almost too easy. Just a dull ache. But there was no mistaking their regularity. She was coming, that was for sure. But she was going to take her time and do it her way. At nine thirty in the evening on the 21st of January, I said to T, "We should go to the hospital, because the contractions are coming every thirty minutes."

T looked at me. I was standing. I had my bag. I had brushed my hair and powdered my nose. I was calm. I did not look like a woman about to give birth.

"Are you in pain?"

"Not really. But the contractions come every thirty minutes. We should go."

When we got to the hospital, they said I was just 3cm dilated. And on it went, all night long. Until the very next day, till close to midday. Now that I think about it, it is just like Kaylee to take her time.

When she finally came out, little K was wailing. But T spoke to her gently, "Hi Kaylee, don't cry!"

And she stopped, and turned in the direction of her voice. It was amazing.

It hardly seems possible that today she is eleven. She is practically a young lady - smart and articulate and with a flair for the dramatic. Affectionate and sensitive and unerringly aware in an almost adult way of the things that she has to do, while still holding fast to the things she wants to do, making her plans and airing her views. She wants to be an architect. She wants to be a writer. It is amazing to me that once upon a time, not too long ago, we cuddled her and she pointed out noses and eyes and sang the last words of verses in songs. We called her Kaylee Baba, Kaylee Boom Boom and Kaylee Cakes.

Today, we call her Katharine or Kitkat or simply Kaylee.

Today I am a a big bar of dark chocolate.

Last night, I said, "How can you be eleven? You're not allowed to be eleven."

"Oh Mommy," she said.

Slipping through my fingers all the time.

Here we are

A new year.

I'm reminded of that Peanuts strip where Lucy Van Pelt says words to the effect of...
"There's something funny about this year. This year feels a little bit like last year - this is a used year! We're being ripped off!!"

This new year doesn't feel used though. In fact, it feels quite different from last year, which was fleet on its feet. This year seems like it's going at its own pace.

Which is good.