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Dear Nathaniel and Rachael, Although many, if not most, of the things I’m going to talk about here were far beyond our control, our ability to do differently and no one’s fault, I feel the need to address them. I’m sorry your sister got cancer. I’m sorry for what this meant for the past years of your lives. I’m sorry your childhood was marred by the knowledge of cancer, chemotherapy and loss. I’m sorry for the time that can never be regained and the innocence forever gone. I’m sorry for all of us, but especially you. I’m sorry I asked you to be forgiving when your sister treated you in ways that would have gotten a stranger laid flat out with a mama-given sucker punch. I’m sorry that you had to be afraid in your home, fearful of awakening the beast that slept inside your sister more times than I can count. I’m sorry for the times she yelled hatefully at you, pinched you, made ugly faces at you and generally made your life a living hell. I’m sorry that you lost that sweet baby sister for so long, to have her replaced with the angry, cranky, sick child that came home from that first hospital stay. I’m sorry that THIS became your new normal life. I’m sorry for the mornings I wasn’t there to make your lunch and kiss you goodbye in front of the school. I’m sorry for the nights we had to say goodnight over the phone and I could hear the tears you were so bravely holding back….or not holding back. I’m sorry for the times when you woke up in the night to find that I was gone with your sister to the hospital, the days you were picked up from school by someone telling you that we were inpatient. I’m sorry I wasn’t there every bedtime to hug your freshly bathed body and get a toothpasty kiss. I’m sorry for the nights you went to sleep wondering what was happening, what was wrong with your sister and I wasn’t there to explain and comfort. I’m sorry for the menu plans that heavily rotated around McDonalds and Cracker Barrel. I’m sorry for the mornings we woke up to realize there were no clean uniform bottoms and you had to wear the least dirty ones to school. I’m sorry for not realizing your shoes were too small until they’d given you a blister. I’m sorry for the mornings you woke me up instead of the other way around. I’m sorry for the times you felt jealous when cards and gifts came for your sister and you got nothing. I’m sorry for those moments when you stood there unnoticed as another person asked, “How’s Peyton?” and didn’t ask how you were doing. I’m sorry for the times when your own friends said hello to Peyton first and oohed and ahhed over her when they should have been clustering around you. I’m sorry for the last-minute book reports and projects that were forgotten. I’m sorry for the field trips and competitions and sports days that I wasn’t there to be a part of and to cheer you on. I’m sorry for the day you lost that math competition and needed me to hug you and tell you how proud I was of you for even being chosen to go but I could only talk to you on the phone. I’m sorry for the cupcakes I couldn’t bring, the cookies I didn’t bake and the class parties that I made you take Publix baked good. I’m sorry for the birthday parties we missed, the playdates we couldn’t make.
