Cancer, Coping, and the Every-Day Maces

I had a brush with meaninglessness this weekend… like “If I couldn’t save Hyrum, can I do anything worthwhile?” And “If things of such value (like a child’s life) are subject to the whims of mortality, is agency and human effort even a real force at all?” I cried at night. I sat outside at sunrise, praying and hurting and more. I asked Michael for a blessing,  and I went to the temple. I baked cookies and followed through with my plans with friends. Eventually, the cloud of meaninglessness subsided.  In the temple, that blessedly solid, granite building that felt eternal enough to quell existential doubts, I had  the same prompting that I felt there right after Hyrum’s death. “Just keep going. You have more to do and more to be. You are not done yet.” It’s encouraging, but also… I’m tired? Lol And often unsure how to use my broken pieces to do good. I think the message from God is half “Your brokenness is needed. Please go share.” and partly “It doesn’t matter what you ...

Will it get old if I start every blog post by telling you how grateful I am for you? It is deeply humbling to watch the way our sweet friends and family have continued to minister to us. This weekend, my sister visited the city where Hyrum attended his clinical trial in California. She sent me a picture with two of my sweet CA friends, and I honestly cried just looking at their faces... Because it reminded me how many of you have stepped up to be direct conduits of God's love for me. People I didn't even know. People who are carrying their own heavy burdens. People like you.  We are home again in Oklahoma. It's 9 weeks since Hyrum died. And we are... all the things. We are busy. We are joyful. We are hurting. Against all odds, we are functioning!! I've been cooking and cleaning and playing. The kids are sleeping in their own beds again. We're back to regular church assignments, and it's lovely to have space (mental, physical, & emotional) to serve and help a...

I feel so much love for all you friends- you've really lifted us this year. It's been three weeks since Hyrum died, and I know many are wondering how we/the kids are doing. Others have asked how to best talk with us or support us going forward. Let's see if I can address those topics concisely? If you ask me "How are you?" in person, you'll probably hear me say, "You know... we're okay." And I mean that. Often, I'll add "It's all the things!" By which I mean that in these weeks we've experienced a very fluid blend of relief, peace, exhaustion, pain, sadness, anger, joy, and so much more. Emily still asks where Hyrum is, and she talks to him in her dreams. Caleb is sorting through countless mixed memories of Hyrum- their goofy knock-knock jokes, times when Hyrum pushed him away, and Hyrum's sudden disappearance from our physical life. We process with him in scattered 3-minute conversations, with the occasional and unexpec...

I'm not a soloist, but I really love this song. Singing it at Hyrum's funeral made me feel close to him. Some of you have requested a recording of Sorrow Garden, so here's a rough and imperfect one... Because I figured the timeliness of music in our healing and grief is more important than musical perfection. We love you all. (Lyrics below) Sunny boy, my gardener, I see the blossoms in your soul.  You let your feelings sprout and spread in blue and red and yellow-gold. You grew a sorrow garden, So few tomorrows garden. The holes and hurt there in the dirt could never stop your garden. You grew the purple twisted vines each time you pushed through fear or pain,  With roots so deep and leaves so fine, they glisten every time it rains.  And then the tiny gentle sprouts- small moments others might not see. This dark earth makes them stand out. How dear it feels now, just to be. You grew a sorrow garden, So few tomorrows garden. The holes and hurt there in the dirt could neve...

On February 25, 2023, Hyrum Michael Mace passed away gently, without pain. We miss him already. Before Hyrum was even born, we knew how badly he wanted to be here- in this world, in our family. He was an easy baby and a delightful toddler. He spent his first 6 months living with us above a laundromat, then three years in our south-Provo home. While we lived there, he loved walking to see the horses, visiting the family orchard, and reading books. In 2021, we moved to Oklahoma, and Hyrum quickly adopted our neighbors as family. We took daily swims in our neighbor’s pool, used rocks and berries to make “canal soup” during family walks, and often visited the OKC zoo. Hyrum attended public Pre-K, made great friends, and loved school. On April 4, 2022, we took Hyrum to his pediatrician, thinking that vision problems were the cause of his week-long vomiting. A CT scan revealed an aggressive brain tumor- an incurable pediatric cancer called DIPG. Hyrum underwent 6 weeks of intensive radiation...

For a while now, I've braced myself for this. Yes, for Hyrum's passing, but I've also dreaded THIS. After his coma-like scare and that blog post, it hit me: "I'm the one that tells them that he died." My heart sank. All of you sweet friends... hundreds and literally thousands of you who have volunteered to love us and lift us and watch with us. I am the one to bring you the bad news. Me. I make his death reality. I tell you that he's finally gone. After all you've brought to us this year, what do I bring to you? This. The death you never had to experience. The tears that didn't have to be yours. A pain that didn't have to be shared.   How can I say adequately and simultaneously "I could not have lived this without you" and "I wish you'd never stepped within this painful space"? I'd never choose to hurt you... but you chose to hurt with me. I don't have words for that, but I am grateful. I am changed.  Friends, ...

Well, it’s been a while! Hyrum is still here. He has a few days left, we think. He had a solid week of eating only sherbet (and by eating, I mean letting it melt into his mouth and then painstakingly swallowing it). Yesterday was his last sherbet day. Today he can hardly make a sound. There was a day I just wanted to shout “Just go already!! This is too hard to watch!!” But I asked for a blessing and had a good, sincere prayer with God. I remembered that consecration is not about ME doing more or giving more, (because I could not do more of this)… it is about what God does with what I offer. He is the one that consecrates, not me. I have not done anything more with the days after that, but He has done more with them. He has filled me with more love. More calm. More gratitude. Insight to Hyrum’s jumbled words. Somehow, I am capable of doing the thing I've dreaded the most this whole year: watching Hyrum die.  As I watch him, I've been deeply struck by his tenacity. Hyrum’s been ...