We aren’t sure if it’s just us or if everyone that experiences tragedy feels this way, but there is a distinct “line in the sand” moment of our lives now. There is the “before Dylan was diagnosed with DIPG” and “the after.” Looking back, the before is so light and energetic. The smiles are so true and so freely given. The after feels heavy, and while the smiles are still there, they are thinner and don’t stretch as far up to the eyes. And those eyes have a little less sparkle.
Less than three weeks before Dylan was diagnosed with this terrible cancer, our family got together to celebrate Penny’s fifth birthday and a birthday for our mom, who the kids all call Grandma Jude (we won’t tell you what number birthday it was for Grandma 😉). When Grandma Jude was a young girl, her parents (our Grandma and Grandpa Penny) bought a cabin in the woods near Mt. Rainier. Grandma Jude grew up going there with her family, and then she and our dad Tom (Papa Woody to the kids) took us there often as we grew. We spent countless weekends hiking, fishing, and skiing. The cabin is very rustic. There is electricity but no running water, and an outhouse is as glamorous as it gets.
Mark and Lindy took Penny and Oscar to the cabin in the summer of 2017 when Penny was turning 4 and Oscar was nine months. And yes, if you noticed the connection in name, Penny was named after our Grandma Penny, a spectacular woman (we’ll have to tell you more about her someday).
When it became time to start thinking about Penny’s fifth birthday, Lindy asked her how she wanted to celebrate. Immediately, she said she wanted the whole Wood side of the family to go to the cabin. Lindy had newborn Archer, and while the lazier part of her would have rather just celebrated at home in Eastern Washington, the idea of getting the family together at the cabin did seem fun. Everyone else liked the idea too, so it was set.
When the time came, we couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day. It was sunny and warm, and we got to spend nearly the whole day outside. With no internet and limited cell service, there were few distractions from enjoying each other’s company.
Dylan and Penny found the old “horses,” which are wooden sticks with rope “manes” that our Grandpa Penny made. They rode those around making neighing sounds and decimated a bag of Cheetos. We played several rounds of cornhole, ate hamburgers, and made s’mores. Penny didn’t even open birthday presents until the next day. The averageness of this day was the best part; it was just time and connection together.
Oftentimes family gatherings aren’t as perfect as we would like them to be, but this was an exception. Everything was perfect. Call it God or serendipity, but we don’t think it’s a coincidence that Penny was given the idea to have her birthday celebration at the cabin just weeks prior to our lives being upheaved. Our grandparents’ ashes are scattered near the cabin at the Chapel in the Woods, a small clearing where church services used to be held for the small community of cabins.
Since Dylan was diagnosed, she has randomly brought up Grandma Penny. She asks about heaven and whether Grandma Penny is there. We think that birthday gathering was a little gift from Grandma. She knew we would need that memory to cherish as we faced the storm ahead. So thank you, Grandma, for that last spectacular moment of lightness. It was as good as it gets.
