Maddie's Fight Foundation- The Longest Year

Like most mornings over the last year, this one began with the three of us gathered around the table. Mike and I sipped hot French Roast while Mackenzie ate a little breakfast. We talked about the day ahead. We commented on the weather. We made sure yesterdays homework was tucked safely in the backpack. We reviewed the activities planned for the coming evening. And we criedyes, we cried.

We almost always cry. And when we are done crying, we wipe away whats left of our tears, straighten our heads, take a deep breath and greet the world with the smiles other have come to recognize as outward signs of our inner strength; masks for our anguish. We push through the day with clenched jaws while we work diligently to focus on whats before us instead of how much we hurt. We swallow hard, pushing down the lumps in our throats as we try to find humor in as much as possible, so we dont get lost in the ocean of sorrow that seems to continually try to sweep us under its relentless current.

A year ago yesterday, I was gazing out the window of a hospital room in Cleveland, admiring the peaceful blanket of snow falling over the city. Mackenzie and Mike sat by Maddies bed and held her sweet hand while I made phone calls to our family. Maddie had become unresponsive and though she was clinging to life, we knew the end of her suffering was near. We wanted to gather her loved ones so she could feel the presence of their hearts as she moved away from the confinement of her pain and into the freedom of Gods grace. How our hearts ached.

And they still do. Today marks a year since Maddie surrendered to the monster we called cancer. I dont really know how we got here, to be honest. Its been a blur.

Adjusting to life without Maddie has not been easy. Every morning, every tradition, every season, every meal, every holiday, every school event, every sink full of dishes I wash, every batch of cookies I bake, every time I hear Mackenzie laugh, every movie we see, every game we play, every time I sit in solitude, every EVERYTHING is laced with the thread of her absence. We feel it every single moment.

And yetdespite all of what I am sharing, I want to be very clear: WE DO NOT DWELL. Anyone who was blessed enough to have known Maddie knew she had a bold and amazing spirit. She found a way to laugh at everything; took pleasure in every moment. The last thing she would ever want is for us to dwell.

So, weve found simple ways to ease our hearts. We look for cardinals wherever we go. Whether or not the old wives tale about them is true, we smile and think of her when we see one. We pray a lot. We send paper lanterns sailing into the night sky and watch them float gracefully into darkness. Mackenzie writes heartfelt letters to her sister, and saves them in a beautiful box. We cherish time with our family and we keep ourselves busy with friends. We bring her pictures with us to family gatherings and we laugh about the things she used to do. We talk to her often; when we visit her grave, when we are in the car driving, when we go to bed at night, when we feel overwhelmed by how much we miss her. And we pour our hearts into preserving her legacy.

Part of what has kept us going is helping other children who are sick. It is the only positive thing we can think of that has come out of what Maddie endured. Had she never become ill, wed likely have lived our whole lives, blissfully unaware of how much one small gesture can change the world for the family of a sick child. As we take our first steps into the second year without our sweet Maddie Lane, we have strengthened our resolve to keep doing everything within our power to honor her memory by helping others.

We love you Maddie Lane, and we miss you beyond what words can say.

To learn more about the Maddies Fight Foundation, and how you can help us in our mission, click here .