The final pink arrivals which include a pair knitted just for me:
Who knew that my request, on July 29th, for collecting 65 pairs of pink socks would end with 700? It isn't the end, it's only the beginning. Several angels are at work on the other end as they are in on the surprise and are planning to make a celebration for the Pink Wink arrival. You know I will keep you posted! One of the last emails I got from my sister was in May when she wrote to me about the blog comments you left for her, sending your positive vibes. She enjoyed all the well wishes and said they were definite day brighteners. Imagine what she would say to this - 700 socks sent in her honor.
I am without words to describe what this has meant to me. I recognize that it was a loving effort to participate in this. You shopped for socks, came home and packaged them, then went back out to post them. Many envelopes were winks themselves - decorated with pink paint or ink and roses and x's & o's and hearts and flourishes and messages. Some were filled with pink wrappings and ribbons. Some came with beautiful cards or lovely gift offerings. Others came in a plain envelope with a quick note and some were simply anonymous - no return address at all. There were boxes containing more than a dozen pairs, and envelopes filled with a single pair. Some socks were dropped off at my home and others were delivered from overseas. No matter how the socks arrived I felt the love energy tucked inside. I get it that by sending me socks you are offering your support and sympathy. I get it that by sending socks you help me honor the memory of Shannon. I get it that you can't imagine loss, or have experienced a loss of your own. I get it that you love your sister, or your sibling, or your best-friend-who-is-practically-a-sister. I get it that you may know someone with Cystic Fibrosis. I get it that you are a caregiver, or know a caregiver, or believe that acknowledging caregivers is important. I get it that it just feels good to join in something that is about sharing gratitude. I get it that the impulse to be with me on this may have no specific definition. I feel the love, and as I said before: you make grief endurable.
There is more to tell, more to share, and more to celebrate as the story continues to unfold. For now, let me offer my humble thanks. Posting the boxes felt good, although a little sad as it's been a daily task for me to attend to this project. It began as an idea to pay-it-forward to my sister's caregivers and then it became bigger but offered a distraction to keep my mind occupied. I reflect on the whole thing now and see that it was so comforting to share my grief. By dividing it, it slowly diminishes.
I know you are with me. SHE is with me. You have helped me say that she mattered. I will never forget this. NEVER. Thank you. THANK YOU.