Update...jogging the memory and fighting the tears

Its been about 2 months since we started this project.  We are very much dedicated to it...in our free time.  I have no time frame for when we would like this to be completed.  Something like this just can't be rushed.  Life can't be rushed, and neither can the telling of it.  Since this story covers the past 15 years and will go on to cover the future I'm trying to organize all the ground I have to cover.  I'm trying to document our current experiences and emotions as well as put the past in print.  I feel the best place to start is the beginning.


I've been working on digging up old memories...15 year old memories...of when Bill and I first met; the topic of our first chapter.  I still remember the first time we formally met like it was yesterday.  I visualize making eye contact with that young boy for the first time and I remember how the world around me kind of slowed down, all surrounding noise was muffled and the only thing I could hear was my own breathing that sounded like the turning wheels of an old steam engine.  Something stirred in me, something a 12-year-old couldn't understand or even pick up on at the time.  Looking back now, I know it was my recognition of something special in that lad.   I remember what I was wearing, exactly where I was, how I was positioned, exactly what I thought and exactly how I felt.  (Sorry, you'll have to wait for Chapter 1.)  Bill says I always surprise him with my uncanny ability to remember little, minute details; the details of that day are forever engraved in my memory.

I thought, going into this project, that digging the memories up would be SO hard.  I was SO wrong, the memories are flooding me so quickly I can barely get them organized.  Its transforming every aspect of those memories into words that has me going in circles.  Setting the scene is simple.  Explaining the emotion is a bit more challenging.  But recreating the emotion so you feel like you were right there, as though YOU were those young kids, is down-right difficult.  Anyone that knows me, even a little, knows that I'm rarely found at a loss for words.  Right now, I'm stumped.  In my opinion an effective writer weaves a web of words that snares the reader's emotions; so that the reader feels as though he/she was right there.  We want you to see what we saw, understand our thoughts and most importantly, feel what we felt.  Our emotions set a foundation that we grow on to become who we are.  Emotion is the foundation for this story.  Without emotion Bill and I wouldn't have a story.  Without emotion it would be nearly impossible to bring to light the horrors and the desperate need for more awareness and research of Creuzfeldt-Jakob Disease.  Without emotion we would lack anything to love and hold dear, we would be without anything worth living for, believing in and fighting for.  I HAVE to get the emotion across perfectly so the words of our story support the severity of my family's situation; our confusion, our anger, our hopelessness, our heartache, our panic and, most importantly, our love.

I always believed there was a greater purpose for Bill and I to have such an extensive history before we began our romantic relationship and God is slowly unfolding that purpose to me as time passes.  Its painful to see that He has been prepping my family for Dad's illness for 15 years now.  Trying to document this whole experience forces me to sort through my feelings...and why I'm feeling them.  Reliving our memories takes me back to a time when Dad was healthy, when I could talk to him about how much I liked Bill and how I hoped we would be friends forever.  I remember all the ways that Dad bent over backwards when Bill and were hanging out to insure we had a great time.  I look back now and I recognize the trust my Dad had in a teenage boy...and how incredibly rare that is.  I see now what my father saw in him and I now understand why Dad was SO thrilled when I told him Bill and I were officially dating.  I've always been an emotional person but the onslaught of heartache, confusion, fear, longing and anger brought out by this project is overwhelming...and, in a strange way, healing.  Its been so easy to just give into the grief; to stay holed up in my house and my mind when I'm not in Atlanta.  Giving in is so much easier than working through it.  My grief has zapped me of any energy or desire to engage in things and activities I have always enjoyed...I never realized how much effort it took to blow dry my hair.  Yet, by controlling my emotions and organizing my thoughts enough to get them into print has stirred enough of the real Randa to start working through this grief.  I will certainly be a changed woman once all is said and done (who WOULDN'T be changed by have two weddings in two years??) BUT, as I told my brother, it is our responsibility to make sure that whatever changes this brings out in us are positive changes...in honor of our Daddy.