It’s not a violent end to life. A slow suffocation by means of piles of boxes, plastic, and shipping envelopes. A fall of fate due to tripping on a very cute pair of pajama pants. An unfortunate run-in with the sharp side of a metal medical cart. All ways I would gladly die. At the hands of many care packages.
I have been drowning in gifts. Unexpected gifts. Items I had put on an Amazon wish list, containing things I needed (and wanted) for the next step in my medical journey. On my birthday, my mother posted it on Facebook/ Since then, boxes have been rolling in daily. As soon as I get one thing sorted and put away, others arrive. It’s like a never-ending Christmas. An October of pure bliss. A fall of festivity.
We didn’t really celebrate my birthday this year. I spent the day in bed, too ill to go out. I wanted to ignore the day. Let it slide by, without notice. I was waiting for the energy to celebrate properly.
My birthday was hard to brush over, however, when the very first package showed up at my door. As I opened it, I squealed with delight. Okay, I don’t squeal. I don’t whimper. I don’t make any form of a high-pitched sound of fright or elation. Thus, the squeal was in my head, as the blessings were all too real.
I can’t begin to explain how much the recent gifts, notes, and texts have meant. This is the part where I go speechless. This is where language comes to an end. The place where English no longer suffices. The only term we have to express gratitude is “thank you.” Short. Ringing unimpressively in a short cacophony repeated continually in hopes of expressing more than can be expressed. We send thank you notes saying thank you, giving thanks as we hand it to the person for whom we are thankful. Shallow.
I don’t know where to write from here. My posts are usually three times this length. In all my years, I have never felt more loved. It seems ironic that at the time of my utmost physical isolation, I have felt the most connected to others. I have felt the most loved. I have felt the most supported.
So, “thank you” will have to suffice. Because, even as a long-winded, overly pretentious writer, I’m speechless.
God is good.