I am not even going there. It was two weeks ago today that our family was heading to the legendary Cote-St-Luc Shopping Center. We were dropping our precious SQ off to get picked up by the Camp Wilwaken Bus. Like countless parents sending their kids to sleep away camp for the first time, we all had a bad case of butterflies. Would SQ have a good time? Would SQ eat? Would SQ make friends? After a short time of hugs and kisses SQ boarded the bus and her great adventure began.
The call for the transplant came 3 hours later...
I love Virginia. I am glad I married Virginia. Every family needs a worrier and, more particularly, a planner. I worry some and plan less. My great philosophy is to address any worry with let's cross that bridge when we get to it. Virginia, on the other hand, anticipates.
Within a day or two we got an email from SQ with a nice picture and note that camp was good. After that, nada, zero, stone cold silence. Somehow, despite dealing with the early days of the transplant and NJ, Virginia found some other outlet of energy to get the camp to update us about SQ. The result of her emails, calls and back door lines of communication resulted in 1 cryptic email from SQ that had a picture drawn by her but a note scrawled by someone else.
Well, now that Virginia could not worry about the time SQ was having, a good amount of energy was devoted to dealing with my absence. You see, kids get taken home by their parents. It would be kind of obvious that I would not be making the trip. Virginia consulted with trusted members of her brain trust, friends and me. I am not even going to provide any details because....
The second SQ saw Virginia without me at pickup day she immediately said Daddy must have had his big operation. He would never miss picking me up.
It felt great.
Sent from my iPad