Weeks 3 and 4 After Diagnosis

Dear Jordan,
These last 2 weeks have flown by, I sometimes wish I could slow time down, and prolong the inevitable. It would be so nice to know we could somehow stay in this happy time, and know that nothing is going to change.

We spent last week Friday with your Aunties Carmen, Nats, Uncles Ian and Neil and Emma and Hannah. It was somehow strange, but comforting to be normal for one night. In the back of my mind I kept thinking of Dad, and if he was tired, and how he was coping. People are afraid to ask, or broach the subject of Dad’s sickness; he however, talks freely and jokes willingly about this stage in his life.

You, Danette and I, went for breakfast with Aunties Marthie and Megan. Hearing them say how big you have got, and seeing how tiny little Quan is growing, really was an eye opener for me. You were, as always, a real charmer.

The human psyche is a strange being. It seems that we have moved from anger, denial and tears, to an acceptance of what is going to happen. That somehow, we realize the inevitable, and we are trying desperately to carry on. I have the business to run, and Dad keeps himself busy with household chores. There are times when for no explicable reason, tears will flow, but they have become fewer and further apart. While we pray for a miracle, and sometimes bargain, somehow we have moved on, to acceptance.

Gran told me of someone dear to us, saying that loneliness creeps up and that it is horrible. The fear of losing Dad has been replaced with the fear of being alone, that no one will ever fill the hole in my heart, he filled when we met. The unknown has always been an issue for me, and as you may well have learned by this stage of your life, I am a planner. The fact that our dreams, and plans are no longer, seems to have created a sense of feeling lost. The fact that the white picket fence, dog and 2 happy little children running around are not in the plan anymore, terrifies me, and that should I decide to give you the sibling you so deserve, I will have to do it alone. That is not to say that Grumpy, Granny and rest of your family will not be there to support us, but to do it without Dad, just seems senseless.

For now, we are thankful that Dad’s infection in his incision is clearing up again, that we can still have our holiday, and that I can hold his hand and talk to him. We are so grateful that you are with us, and that you give us each a smile, a kiss and a hug every morning and that at least a little bit of our dream has become a reality.

We love you forever and always,
Dad and Mom