"But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them..."
To most, 36 hours is an eternity. To us, it is fleeting. There is only so much life you can squeeze into this small window in time; only so many deserving folks you can thank; only so many people you can say hello to, or hug, or spend quality time with...even though you promised. More than once.
And so you step aside and let these amazing individuals go about their business, because it is their job; no, their passion. Which, by its very definition, requires more effort and dedication than mere employment. It demands every ounce of energy, 24/7, for years of their lives, because this moment matters more than any other. And they get it. And so, you cry...
I cried for the BOM Squad; an amazing, eclectic mixture of talented professionals, each of whom know their role, down to the most finite detail, and don't miss a single 'I', or 'T'. I cried because they know their purpose. They know there are no corners to be cut, or stones to be left unturned; and they know enough to put the right people in the right place, to succeed...each and every time.
They know nothing is forever, except family and memories. They know their time to lead the masses will come to a close, much sooner than any could anticipate. And yet, they continue to fight, and lead, and sweat, and bleed; for the children, because they rely on them to do so. For these kids, it is not an option. They put their faith and trust into an organization which continues to inspire, and amaze; every day, every year. And they can rest at ease, feeling safe with the knowledge that their delicate lives are in very capable hands. And it makes me smile...and cry.
I cried for my family, who continue to struggle with many everyday challenges, like so many others, but with the added pressure of a sibling who requires just a bit more attention and compassion than most. The patience they are forced to demonstrate each day is undeniable; and they were rewarded this year with their own support system; a personal 'Buddy' to help them understand that they matter too, and deserve just as much love and attention.
With this great addition to the program comes great loss, as more honorable student representatives move on in their lives, graduating to leave their lasting imprint on this world. For children like my youngest two, it's not as daunting because both of their Buddies return. But for the two eldest, our son a Riley Kid, both of whom have faced tremendous loss, and been forced to overcome inconceivable circumstances, it is heartbreaking. They love these people like their siblings. They look to them as mentors; and it's not always easy to understand why they won't physically be there tomorrow. But, as with many other opportunities and situations in life, there are lessons to be learned...and they move on. They move on with the knowledge that they mean as much to their Buddies, as their Buddies mean to them; and that there is a silver lining. They will add two more members to our ever-growing family next year, in addition to the wonderful souls we've been blessed with in the past. Is it any easier? No. Is the initial sting of loss dismissed, or diminished, because of the promise of a brighter future? No. So, I cry...
I cried for the precious souls who held on, wanting one more chance to be a part of something so special, either in attendance, or from their favorite nurse making the rounds, or tuning in the news for them, yet didn't make it; the innocent babies for whom all of these hours are spent supporting, so that there is never a need for another one of these stupid fundraisers...ever again. We l-o-v-e our IUDM family and all of the schools that dedicate themselves each year to moving toward the cures that must be found, who never give up hope; those whom would all agree, to a person, that the best day of Dance Marathon will be the last day. Not for them. For everyone.
Until then...we cry.
FTK,
Scott
I cried for the dancers, who had $3,880,025.22 reasons to celebrate, and did so...vigorously; for the effort they put in to do the right thing, and the enormous struggle it must have been to make it to the finish. I wonder how many truly appreciate the fact that their struggle pales mightily in the face of what most of these children face every day; many staring down death's door and daring anyone to open it. How all of them would give anything to change positions, for perspective..and health. How so many of these kids just want a chance to dance...and may never be able to do so. I marvel, equally, at those who do it for the credit they think they deserve and those who do it for the credit the children do deserve. The former are largely in the minority, but the reality is, that, to a small faction, this is nothing more than a weekend getaway; a chance to party and hang with their buds, and to them I also say, 'I get it'. I do. But, it is also my hope that these individuals hold the capacity in their hearts to let one inspiring story in, and to change their perception...and to never be dealt the hand we, and so many others were, and are, dealt every year. I wouldn't wish these struggles on anyone; and I mean no one. And so I pray for these people...and cry.
I cried for the precious souls who held on, wanting one more chance to be a part of something so special, either in attendance, or from their favorite nurse making the rounds, or tuning in the news for them, yet didn't make it; the innocent babies for whom all of these hours are spent supporting, so that there is never a need for another one of these stupid fundraisers...ever again. We l-o-v-e our IUDM family and all of the schools that dedicate themselves each year to moving toward the cures that must be found, who never give up hope; those whom would all agree, to a person, that the best day of Dance Marathon will be the last day. Not for them. For everyone.
Until then...we cry.
FTK,
Scott
