The Story of the Tiny Sock

Because of my granddaughter.

I found a tiny sock in the front pocket of my purse. I was taken back to days of tiny feet, and sleepy, cozy snuggles. Perfect fuzzy little head. Tiny fingers grasping my own.

I don’t know where the other sock went. Probably lost in all the chaos of busy baby days.

This is what is on my mind as I’m trying to figure out how to accomplish my goal. And this is why I can’t give up. Because of my granddaughter. My daughter ended all contact with us over 2 years ago. And as far back as 3 years ago, we weren’t seeing or hearing from them much at all. So I know a little something about the people I’m trying to help. I am one of the people.

This came on the heels of my granddaughter swallowing a dime… which led to scans… which led to the discovery of a giant tumor butted up against her heart and her spine. She was diagnosed with neuroblastoma and not given a very good prognosis. She was 4 years old. And so tiny.

They ended up being able to remove almost all of the tumor, which was a miracle. It was so crazy how it all happened; but, the months of the unknown, the terror, the overwhelming awfulness left a lasting mark. Before she was scheduled for one of the last tests to make sure the cancer wasn’t coming back, my daughter cut our whole family off. Our whole extended family. Including my parents. I’m not going into any more detail, but there’s so much more that happened after that, and I am still struggling to walk this path I am forced to be on.

It’s hard to describe what this has been like, except to say part of me has been broken, and I carry that part with me all the time. It is heavy, and dark, and it can be overwhelming. So confusing. So painful. And most of the people I know have no idea what to say to me. They love me and want to help, but don’t know how. The nature of this pain is awkward. My head knows my granddaughter is out there living her life. My head knows I’m not allowed any contact. I can NOT make sense of it. And my heart doesn’t care what my head knows, it just wants my family back.

You never stop loving people who are gone. Whether it is through death, or estrangement. There is no moving on or getting over this. For me, there is only moving and not moving. If I move, I live. If I don’t, well, it just won’t end well. And as hard as it is… And as long as it has taken to be able to even get up… I know I need to keep moving. If for no other reason than my granddaughter. And I would move heaven and earth through an alcohol sea with razor blade cuts all over my body if I could have her here with me. The very least I can do is move. It’s also the very most.

So, with that tiny sock in the front of my purse in mind, I’m taking baby steps. Because that’s all I can do now. And whether I see my granddaughter earthside, or in heaven, I will keep moving. And I will find others like me who need to know it’s okay to move. We’re not getting over our loved ones, or leaving them behind. We’re just living, and finding our purpose. And that’s what they’d want us to do. Because they love us too.

Braundi