The little girl was sick for her first Christmas. She tried to be a trooper through the 4 Christmases and 500 miles in 30 hours, but she was just not her happy entertaining self, and I'm so sorry she didn't get to enjoy it like she should have. She went to the doctor on Friday and has an ear infection, and is on the mend, but what a day to get sick. It hurt my heart for her.
Kenneth had to go to the doctor on Saturday. He has been sick for weeks, but refused to go, but gave up being stubborn and went. Now I'm kinda sickly, but I think mine is just a minor cold and I'll clear up in a few days.
I got terrible news from Carrie about Daniel's dad. The truth is, I don't even know what to say to her or Daniel about it. "I'm sorry" really doesn't mean anything. I know all the optimists in the world that are saying he'll turn around and beat it are probably annoying, even with their great intentions. There's always hope, sure, but it doesn't sound like there's much of it, and just trying to skim over what will probably happen and dismissing it doesn't really make anyone feel better. Because then you have to put on that brave face and say "Sure he can beat it! He will, I just know it!" even when you may not mean it. I love Carrie and Daniel so much. They are my best friends. My go-tos. Some of the only people in the world where you can hang out and not really feel like you're doing anything different than hanging out at home, not being anyone else but you. Not a guest, or a host, or anything. You just get to be you. I want nothing but greatness and happiness for them, ever. The truth is, I'm a little bit mad that they have to deal with this. They shouldn't. I wish I could fix it.
And, to end this depressing little thing I have going, my childhood puppy died today. She really was a truly great dog. I kind of knew at Christmas that I may not see her again. She's been really old for a really long time, but it will really sting the next time we go visit and she doesn't come up to say hi to us. She has been around to see me through the worst grief of my life, the fights with my dad, the rebellious prodigal daughter phase, being married and becoming a mama, and I'm very sad that she won't be there for the rest. My stepmom said they buried her with 3 new cases of tennis balls, which she lived to chase right up to the end, and I can't think of a more perfect way to send her off. Some archaeologist 6000 years from now will think that they know how loved she was, but they'll just have a little fragment of how much it really is.
The bad things going on will get better. Sicknesses heal, grief lessens eventually if they don't, and sometimes just the busy-ness of life can be a godsend for the distraction it brings.
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