If you haven’t read about Penny, please take a quick stop by Pennies for Penny. This sweet little girl (who is just a wee bit older than Timothy) has recently been diagnosed with stage 4 Neuroblastoma. I’m connected to Penny through Rhea, whom I know from our super strong army of mom bloggers on momdot.
Next week, an auction will take place to raise money to help Penny’s family cover the cost of her skyrocketing medical bills. There is a growing list of items including gift certificates, jewelry, and I’m personally donating a Creative Memories PicFolio Quick Kit.
Please help this sweet angel. My heart aches for her family, and that’s in part because the blogging community is still reeling from another loss. We have to help Penny. We just have to.
An excerpt from my personal diary three years ago:
I tried memorizing every detail of these past few days, from the moment we got in the van to drive to Atlanta up until now. I memorized the way I felt when Scriabin was playing, a sombre piece as we turned into the parking deck at Emory. I memorized the silence that fell over us as the hospital buildings towered over us and I turned down the stereo. I memorized the smell of the parking deck elevator, a used car or a repair shop. I memorized the walk from the van to the 5th floor ICU, the orchids in the lobby, the numbness that took over as we approached the waiting area we carved out in the hallway with extra chairs.
I memorized all these things, but I don’t think I needed to try.
I won’t forget the way she cried. We were playing cards in the other waiting room and a single sob came from the hallway. It was late Thursday night, and my heart fell into the pit of my stomach. Jamie got up to check on things, then his brother, then his brother’s wife. Simon was asleep on the floor next to me and I waited for them to come back.
She had just had a moment. A break in her strength. She’d been at the hospital for days and just couldn’t stand it anymore. The waiting, the watching, the listening.
But we were all there. Every cousin who could come, every friend, we were all there to hold her up. To make sure she had a shoulder to cry on. To make sure she was never alone. They told stories late into the night to help us laugh away the pain. We all slept on and off, curling up on the floor, slumping in the chairs. I don’t think she slept.
I ate breakfast with her and a few others Friday morning. After breakfast, we went back upstairs to wait some more. The doctors were still doing their report.
I wish I could erase the images of him lying there and replace them with the ones that make me smile. I don’t want to remember the way his mouth opened and closed like a fish when the paralytic started to wear off. I don’t want to remember how swollen he was, even if it was funny that he would have been proud he didn’t have chicken legs anymore. I don’t want to remember the way she draped herself over him and sobbed, “Oh darlin’,” into the ice blanket that was supposed to keep his fever down. I don’t want to remember the color of his face as his heart slowed down.
I know it’ll start to fade.
I just don’t know how soon.
From Aiden’s scrapbook:
August is bittersweet in our family. I’ll post more on this later in the month. Today, though, I want to share with all my fellow crafters the opportunity to help a family in need of support. I heard of this cause through a blog I read, who read it on Dude Craft.
From the mother:
“Killian is facing the reality of the end of his journey in this body. He continues to fight, HARD, but his body is failing. We are making plans…preparing to celebrate his extraordinary life. We have no details or additional information (Killian is LIVING each day), but would like your help in this process.
We are asking Killian’s friends, family, community…anyone who is willing and able to make origami cranes (any and all sizes, colors, materials.) We are going to need 1,000…2,000…3,000 cranes… as many as can be made, to include in his celebration. Read the legend of the 1,000 cranes at en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sadako_Sasaki. Killian loves this story. Here is a website with clear crane folding instructions: monkey.org/~aidan/origami/crane/index.html.
I ask that you spread the word far and wide…let him feel the power of the cranes, of the collective paper folding…. Also, I ask for discretion and to please have these delivered only to my attention (not the family) to:
Cat Cooke
c/o The Mansfield’s
PO Box 10
West Shokan, NY 12494 “
I can’t promise to make any cranes myself, but if you can, please do this for Killian’s family. Or at least spread the word to other crafters you know. This would make a great family project, too. Just look at all the cranes made so far.
(Japanese school children dedicate their contribution of origami cranes at the Sadako memorial in Hiroshima.)
