These days, the words “thank you” seem to have lost their meaning for me. I mean, how can I sufficiently convey my gratidude with words used so plainly and so often? They have lost their true nature with their constant uttering over the last couple months. For weeks, I have been wanting to write this post but have struggled with how I can ever possibly say this (not to mention the tears I’m trying fight as I try to explain it).
During this time of instability, I find that I can not cry over my situation. My body no longer holds the capacity to dwell on what is. I had one day of tears, then that was over. It’s just a part of my story. But everytime a letter, a care package, a pick me up arrives into my life, the tears are new and fresh (we are talking ugly cry here people). The gratitude has been overwhelming and my heart feels like it might burst. The gifts, messages, and cards have been lovely (and so appreciated) but the truest present you have given me is your love through actions and your words. Every syllable rings in my heart. They fortify me, and I carry them with me.
The gift in this awful situation is that I’ve found my family is huge and varying. I feel you rallying behind me. My Somerset girls who have been with me from childhood. My frat brothers (and the girls who hold those memories with me) who have seen me through the many struggles that college threw me. My Army family who spreads across the globe but could never be separated by silly things like geography. My extended family that has always been “weird” in our extreme like to spend time together (rolling 20 deep to the beach? No biggie). From my closest relations to complete strangers, the sentiments are eerily similar. “You’ve got this, and we’ve got you”.
So how will a “thank you” ever reverberate all I need to say to you? It won’t. It can’t. Instead I’m just going to say I love you, too. And, if you got my six, I got yours. Always.