As Easter and the 11th anniversary of Shawna's passing approaches I realize
how little things have changed, and how much things have changed.
I recall hearing the stories about Shawna prior to actually meeting her.
I knew that should I meet her I would be, like so many others, instantly
captivated by her charm, her innocence, her zest for life. I dreaded it.
Because I knew and understood the statistics. The cruel odds. I wondered
if there would be anything left of my heart should she steal a piece away.
Things have changed.
I understand now that I'm the person I am because I met her and knew her.
I should not have worried if my heart could survive that meeting. I should
have worried about my heart had I not met her. Knew her. Loved her dearly.
One afternoon I was at my son's school picking him
up after class. I was walking home with him, thinking how lucky I was to have
a healthy son. I had been thinking of Shawna all that day, and even as I talked
with him asking him what he did that day. He said he was playing in the sandbox
and got sand in his shoe. Out of curiosity I asked how many. He said 14.
Seconds later I was sprinting home with my son on my shoulders and the poem
14 Sands bursting in my heart to come out. To this day, I cannot read it in
But then again, I don't have to.
It's a part of who I am.