I've put up my share of frustrated posts about people not understanding what a day in my life is like. How things that seem so simple to other parents are like mountain climbing with a hippo for me and mine. How there are some mainstream things we'll never be doing and concerns we have that many do not.
This one is a bit of the flip side, about being thankful for the people we've met who've become friends. Who know us and like us for being exactly how we are, not what we look like. I've been discovering a lot of them lately, when my husband's health crisis started to get really bad.
The kind and thoughtful people at both kids' schools, who helped with emails, calls, and information. Some of their thoughtful, unsolicited help literally brought tears to my eyes. Even while part of me was burning with shame to be in a position of needing help, most of me was so grateful that it was there, and kindly meant.
Ditto the nice people at our bank and credit union branches. Especially the big bank branch. I may hold your company in general and CEOs in low regard as opportunistic jerks, but you were my heroes who pulled out all the stops you could and made whatever possible work for me to help protect my family, and I won't forget it. You also remembered me weeks later, and asked especially how our holidays went. I could tell you were really, REALLY hoping they were good.
Our neighbours, who pitched in for a last-minute hour of sitting after bedtime, so I could handle an auxiliary emergency the week before Christmas. For being caring and friendly, making us glad (yet again) to belong to this community.
For friends, who were there for me and the kids, so I could be there for my husband. For texting and calling and helping me laugh. I am not going to forget how you helped. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
For my family, who has been having one of the most stressful and heart-breaking years we've ever known. For bailing me out, listening, venting, and trying to keep living as joyfully as possible. Our laughter may have a jagged edge or five, but there's love, and that lets me hold on tight and take a deep breath to see things through.