Back in grad school, I was researching motherhood for a story I was thinking about writing. In the process of doing so, I stumbled across scotthousehold.com, where a Texas couple, Jenny and Andrew Scott, shared photos of their cherubic first-born daughter Allie with friends and family.
I discovered the site in the summer of 2004—shortly after their daughter was diagnosed with leukemia at five months of age. On the family website, Jenny provided daily updates on Allie’s health. I read through the archives and kept this little girl and her brave family tucked warmly in my heart.
Every day, I checked in to see how Allie was doing. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of others doing the same. Through Jenny’s updates, I witnessed what it meant to have a strong spirit—and to be gifted with love, patience, and faith.
I remember checking Allie’s website when I woke up in the morning on September 14 and learned of her passing the night before. I remember shedding tears for this mother whom I had never met. I sent out a lot of positive vibes over the few months that I followed Allie’s fight with cancer, and her parent’s struggle to make sense of it all.
On that morning six years ago, when purchasing my morning bagel and iced coffee at Bruegger’s before heading to class, the song “Wonder” by Natalie Merchant came on over the speakers. The same song Jenny had sung to Allie during her final moments of life. Whenever I hear that song—and I seem to hear it more often than you might think—I am reminded that life is indeed an ephemeral gift.
_________________________________________________________________________ © 2010 Good Karma Housekeeping. Because memories are filled with life. (Photo by Frank Peters via Creative Commons.)
