Mom reckoned that if she did some cleaning around the hospital that they might knock a couple of bucks off of our bill. So far it’s not working, but those ugly waiting room frames are pretty squeaky clean of late. She is so OCD such a busy lass.

I asked dad how he is able to stay so strong. I am trying to learn, for my betterment, how he is able to be so calm and patient in a situation that would likely crush most people. He said that he is approaching this time as a simple pause in his life. A time to consider, think and accept. A set of circumstances beyond his or any of our control, dictated by powers beyond our comprehension. A big hospital bed shaped pause button. I wish that we could just pause time altogether, the sunset said no.

It’s so hard to celebrate when someone so integral to life and hilarity is not present. It’s so hard to celebrate when all of our minds are collectively saturated with thoughts of him, and how he is doing and if he is ok and when he will be better and if… and what…. and what-if.

We don’t ponder on the what-if’s, instead we do what he loves best and celebrate life. So we all donned some of his ridiculously hideous brightly printed shirts, that he wears with religious commitment, and went out in the delicious sunshine salty ocean air and celebrated together.

Our hearts are on pause with him, but our lives and spirits are fuelling him to keep fighting so we can soon all wear ugly fabric together. Unite Hawaiian Prints, Unite!