Yet another anniversary, another marker in time...
Ten years ago today, Shannon left us. I hate that it's been so long since I saw her face or heard her laugh. But time does not stop and you have no choice but to move forward, even if you don't move on. And if I'm honest, I don't want to move on from a time when Shannon was here.
We have just finished the holiday season and Dan and I enjoyed having Erin home for 10 days. We visited family and friends, binge watched Ted Lasso, and talked about what's ahead in 2022. The holidays will never be "perfect"... whatever the hell that means. Every celebratory thing in our lives will always have a little empty space in it. After 10 years, I have come to accept that. But we talked about Shannon and shared memories with both our families, and hearing her name said out loud feels good.
Erin is in the midst of interviewing for physician assistant schools, and she said she now realizes that everyone who is pursuing a career in medicine has their own inspiration. Her story is sadder than some, but facing illness and uncertainty is not unique to her or us. She reminded us that everyone has a story.
Dan and I had the chance to recount our story recently. The Shannon O'Hara Foundation is partnering with the Minnesota Wild and will expand our scholarship offerings to include the high school teams playing in Hockey Day Minnesota. As a part of this endeavor, Bally Sports North came down to Rochester and did an interview about the SOF. The story will air during the Hockey Day MN broadcast.
The producer interviewing us asked us to reflect on who Shannon was, and after the interview, Dan and I got to talking about how we don't often reflect back on who we were before Shannon got sick. We were so typical, so normal, so naive.
I say naive not because we weren't aware of the idea of death or loss or illness. But one day you are living your life, raising two girls who you plan to see grow up, and then everything changes, and you have to recalibrate.
I knew I would need to adjust to new normals during Shannon's cancer journey and immediately after her death. I knew that birthdays and anniversaries and other markers of time would be hard. But I didn't know that 10 years on, grief would remain in the way that it does.
"Grief turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it." - Joan Didion
After 10 years, the intense sadness of immediate loss is gone. But the little reminders of what is missing, of what I thought my life would be, of what the future no longer includes... those are the pieces of my grief now.
My life is good, my life is full, my life is happy. But my life is not the one I planned when a little brown-eyed girl made me a mom for the first time. And that I feel poignantly today.
Most days, we take that sadness and loss and use it as fuel to try and do our part to make the world better, often through the work of the SOF. And that feels good. But it doesn't fill the hole that Shannon left.
And 10 years on, I realize I don't want the hole filled in. The hole is the space where Shannon still lives in me, with me. I can feel it, especially on a day like today.
A new year brings renewal and new chances to grow and improve. Shannon didn't get many years, but her life reminds me to make the most of mine.
