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Thursday, January 12, 2012

There's No Comfort in the Waiting Room

Right now my best friend is almost three hours away in the waiting room of a hospital surrounded by the most loving family I have ever had the privilege to be a part of. I am not related by blood, though I could easily pass as another cousin on her mom's Irish side of the family, but every one of Casey's siblings, parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents feel like my own. Just a little over a year ago, tragedy struck when her cousin was killed in a fatal motor cycle accident and I have never been more affected by others' pain as I was by this. I came home from college in the middle of my softball pre-season and told my harsh and anything-but-lenient division 1 coach that I was leaving. "Asking" was never an option. I was not requesting to go home, but informing her that I was going home, because she is my family. I wavered cautiously by Casey that entire weekend trying to balance being the arms for her to fall into and letting her take the space and time she needed. I was incredibly thankful to be welcomed with loving arms to even what are usually "family-only" parts of letting someone go, and my eyes were open to the fragility and beauty that is life. I had met him a few times before but we were never as close as I am with some of Casey's cousins, yet experiencing the pain of so many people that I cared about changed me forever. I wasn't just there for Casey, but also to put my arm around her brother who remained incredibly strong through everything and let the consoling arms hold his sister and mother instead. I was there to hold her younger cousins whom I have become very close to, have stayed at my house, and become family in my parents' eyes as well. It is an indescribably lucky experience to have two families feel like one, and I feel so blessed that Casey and I are at the route of that. During that weekend I saw strength and love in a family unmatched by any measure of the two qualities that I had seen before - in anyone, in anything.

Tonight her cousin Claire is in surgery for a brain tumor, and I simply don't understand what power of nature allows a ten-year-old to go through that. It feels wrong being so far away, and I feel a weird sense of being out of place sitting at home in front of my computer. I feel like where I belong right now is in that waiting room too. She is in some of the best hands this country has to offer, and once again this family's love and strength is overcoming the most trying challenges. I can't imagine sleeping tonight until I hear from her.

This family possesses a bond that I could never find words to describe. They are the most beautiful, loving people, and I can't imagine my life without them. I can't express how fortunate I feel every day, but particularly tonight to call Casey my best friend. She is inspirational, selfless, and the epitome of strength and goodness in my eyes. It's so rare that two people can spend an infinite amount of time together and not get sick of each other, can make themselves completely vulnerable and not feel threatened before each other, can assure each other of unconditional love even at each other's weakest, and can trust without fear of betrayal. I have found that and I will never let it go. Her family is equally amazing and deserves the best that life has to offer, and just as she sees tonight how lucky she is to be part of such a supportive and devoted family, I sit here and feel blessed too. I love you, Case.

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