Tomorrow, my nephew would be 23. The age I was when I finished law school.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
Five years ago he turned 18 while at basic combat training. That day, he ran a 5-minute mile.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
Two days later, he was taken to the hospital with a white blood count over 400,000. A blast crisis.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
I began writing his story of illness on @CaringBridge. It was a privilege. And a burden.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
I felt elated when the smallest of victories presented. I felt sick at every battle loss. But I relished having purpose.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
After 3 weeks, he'd died without a spot of leukemia but blood riddled with sepsis. It was the worst night I hope to ever have.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
I believe that if I lost my memory or lost awareness of time, I would feel the full weight of some days even if I couldn't express why.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
My wedding day. The day my grandfather died. The day I met my husband. The day my mother fell comatose. The day she got a liver.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
My memory is not linear. It's more like, take a right at the big oak tree. It follows the connectedness of neurons.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
It's a hard weekend for more reasons than I choose to divulge. And it's imperative that I don't compromise my mental health in lost people.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
I cannot afford to lose myself in his illness and death, followed closely by the death of my grandmother. I must choose to be present.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
In this moment. Because this moment holds the kernel of every moment. Because I'm needed in this spot at this time. Because I've gotten lost
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
and found my way home enough for one lifetime. Because I have no power to change what has been and every motivation to live.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
But. But sometimes I remember that he isn't in grad school. Isn't married. Isn't present. Isn't.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
And my heart snags on remembrance. My chest grasps toward the past. Toward something. Someone. Somewhere.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
And it scalds. It shreds. It leaves me in tatters. I cannot breathe. Because he's gone and I cannot understand it. I cannot process it.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
And I choose. Again. To agree not to understand. To pretend he still is in this world. And I hug my boys and live again.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
Happy birthday, Andy. I hope you can see my moon mail from your perch, wherever that is.
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
Those many tweets I tweeted last night. Those. Again. Still. All day. Maybe longer. #July17
— Amanda Salisbury (@shyjot) July 17, 2015
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