Journal

Tuesday, July 1, 2008 0:09 AM CDT

Of all the phrases in life, the one for me that has created the most mental torture would have to be “if only.” Two little words, but ones that are fraught with the heaviness of can’t move forward, can’t move back, second-guessing, re-hashing, agonizing pointlessness. I have been the Queen of If Only. I have mapped out in excruciating detail how things would be different if one scenario had happened instead of another - if only I had taken extra prenatal vitamin A, not painted while pregnant, called the doctor sooner, chosen radiation, and on and on and on. The particular cruelness of “if only” is that I'll never really know.

Recently we attended the service for a friend that had a life come to a tragic end with lots of questions that will forever remain unanswered. His wife said something at his service that really stuck with me. People wondered why it happened, but does it really matter? All that matters is that it did. What’s done, is done. Accept it and move forward. And I’ve figured out that applies pretty well to the “if onlys”. I think that we have a certain degree of free will to make choices, but the major events and direction our life leads is going to happen, regardless. I do believe that no matter what, when your life is slated to end, it will, and that there is no such thing as a premature death. Who says you have to live to be 80? You may simply be done at 3 or 43, and it’s that simple. But between those life events are so many gaps, and we have the choice with how to fill them. That’s one of the greatest gifts that Cameryn’s death has given me – the ability to stop the “if only” game and start filling those gaps with things that truly matter. I don’t play it nearly as often. As soon as I find myself starting, I stop and realize that the path I did end up choosing has given me all kinds of options, opportunities and character growth that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.

One of those gaps that began when Cameryn got sick I have filled with this website. It has been an outlet for me to channel our journey into words. Through it, I was able to enter the lives of other families going through similar circumstances and share the pain. With it, I opened up our world and allowed others to glimpse the inner-most workings of our life, and of Cameryn. I believe I touched others, just as others have touched me.

Six years ago today, we moved from the intensive care unit to a regular hospital room with Cameryn. It was the time she had her breathing tubes removed, and the day she spoke to let us know she was still “in there.” I will never forget the joy we felt in the simple word she uttered – “Brooke!” All things seemed possible, and despite everything, still do.

I hate endings, but I also know they are necessary. I have become better over the years at knowing when to let go. I think that this particular journey has served its purpose. My grieving will never be done, nor will my work to make sure the world is a better place because Cameryn was in it. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for following our story, and in doing so, becoming a part of it. I hope that you can take the lessons of love and hope that we’ve experienced and apply them to your own life. It insures that this particular journey never ends, but comes up with all sorts of new beginnings.

*****************

You can continue to follow Cameryn’s Cause through www.camerynscause.com, or you can reach me at shayleen_harris@hotmail.com. I will also check the guestbook for the next few months, and print off the hundreds of entries you have thoughtfully made over the years.