From an article originally posted August 18, 2012…
It’s 1:45am and I am .2 of a degree from needing to go to the hospital. They gave us this magic number—if we reach it, we fly to the hospital. I can’t take drugs to bring down the fever, I simply wait. These past days have been miserable with small glimpses of lovely.
My name is Autumn, but Kara often called me her Diana. We met in North Carolina, October of 2004. I had a 19-month old and she had Ella, 3, and Harper, who was only a month old. I am quiet, especially in a large crowd, and Kara was not quiet and crowds brought out the best in her; yet we hit it off quickly. Neither of us could remember the exact moment when we became close, but it was shortly after meeting and my family buying a house across a main road from the Tippetts the following July. We may not remember the exact moment of intimate friendship, but through the years we often remarked how thankful we were that God gave us each other.
Meet my sweet hero Luke. This little boy has Langerhans cell hisocytosis cancer. His mama first noticed when her son continually was falling as he was walking at around 18 months old. They soon discovered his hip was surrounded as well as a spot in his scull in a tumor. They went through extensive surgery to remove the tumor on his hip, and he now has monthly cancer treatments for a year. He is over halfway through. Luke and I will finish around the same me.
We lament often that the last month has been a roller coaster of events, but I like roller coasters. I need a new metaphor. Words simply do not do this summer justice. Jason and I laughed over dinner last night as I recollected, “Remember when we thought our move was so stressful?” Then he responded, “Remember when we shared publicly the stress and fear involved with the fire?” Then we sat quiet, not wanting to introduce Noodles and Company to our gift of tears.
Jason shares his thoughts on grieving and choosing joy on his family's first Mother's Day without Kara.
