As you have probably noticed, I have had a hard time posting here for awhile. I guess I have been kind of wrapped up in my immediate problems dealing with breast cancer. But I find it has become more and more difficult, Michaela, to write about you. I am working on a couple of books, one nonfiction and one fiction. You are actually central to both of them, but I have found when I sit down to work on them that it has just become so hard. There are a million words to say, and I have said them all a million times. Each one of them carries the weight of the world. Does anyone need to be told? With all the words I have said, has not everyone heard the story? Like all I should have to do is say, "Michaela," and they will say, "Ah." And all the sorrow and grief, the unknown terror, will be there, because they know. How could they not know?
And yet they don't.
So one of the things I must do is gather the strength to simply keep you alive by telling your story over and over again, and million trillion times if need be. And the other thing I need to do is keep telling your story so that you can hear it, in case you have forgotten it as well.
I won't give up, Michaela. I promise. I will never give up.
Love you forever, baby girl.