The concepts of inchstones, the cone of possibility, and silver linings got me through the early days of Adelaide’s medical odyssey. Inchstones, clearly, have always stuck with me. As Adelaide’s cone of possibility shrunk, this idea ceased to provide comfort. Silver linings, on the other hand, I desperately tried to hold on to. After countless seizures, meds, side effects and near death experiences, it became harder and harder to find even a sliver of good in all the pain. They were there though, little glinting diamonds in the rough, when I needed them most. They were the lifelong friendships made amongst a community we never would have otherwise met. They were the purpose and drive I found while raising awareness and money for poorly-funded epilepsy research. But it was in the quiet moments that they shined the brightest: momentary eye contact that told me Adelaide knew I was there with her and all the unending snuggles because, well, she couldn’t wiggle away.

After her death I’ve seriously struggled to find those silver linings. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I would trade all the good to come from her suffering to have her alive and healthy. Then I abruptly remind myself that’s not an option and to find the good where I can. The alternative is some sort of Princess Bride-esque pit of despair and the fierce dread pirate Adelaide would, most definitely, not approve. Humans are always wanting to find the good in crap situations, this is nothing new. Just ask John Krasinksi and his Some Good News network or the website, Love What Matters. So, as these days of self-isolation, social-distancing and quarantine drag on. As we watch our loved ones lose jobs, get sick or worse. As we all sacrifice, albeit at varying levels, we need to know the good is out there especially when it is hardest to find. It gives pain meaning and life purpose and that’s a good thing!

My face when someone used to mention “silver linings” surrounding Adelaide’s life and death

Then how did I get to a point where I couldn’t even hear the words ‘silver linings’ without cringing? I used to think this was because there was no silver lining worth this much pain - and to be honest, I’m still not sure there is - but that wasn’t it entirely. I’ve finally realized that when someone pointed out silver linings to me, typically as a way to try and comfort me, I felt as if they were negating the hardship and pain. That wasn’t the intent, of course, but the grieving mind is rarely rational. I suppose this is why it doesn’t help when someone says ”At least she/he… felt love/lived a long life/was well taken care of, etc” to someone who is grieving. Or is that just me? Silver linings only exist around a dark cloud - there can’t be one without the other. I guess what I’m trying to say is that when we point out silver linings, especially to those taking a direct hit from the storm, it’s important to acknowledge how shitty the storm is too.

So, we find our silver linings in the new-found, (or perhaps re-found) appreciation for those working on the medical frontlines. We find it in the gratitude shown to workers in essential industries and our teachers. Just don’t forget about the family that the doctor left behind and may not see for several days or weeks if they are quarantining away from home to keep their family safe. Don’t forget about the lives we could have saved had we had an infrastructure more prepared for a pandemic.

This doesn’t mean we should stop looking for the good, in fact I want to hear your silver linings amidst all of this because we desperately need them. They don’t have to be grand, heroic moments that bring tears to the eyes: for some of us it is extra family time or catching up on our to-do lists. Perhaps, for those who are still working it is that they, in fact, still have a job. Sometimes, you can’t see the silver lining because you’re just trying to survive the storm. Maybe that is why I cringed at folks suggested silver linings after hurricane Adelaide had passed. All I could see was the destruction left inside my heart, mind and soul. Sure, she was deeply loved and electrically affected all who met her, but can’t you see the concurrent pain and struggle?! I won’t presume to guess the silver linings for those among us that have been hardest hit by this pandemic but I do know it is incredibly important that we look for them.

Eternally grateful for all the cuddles from this beast. Love you, Tabasco, especially when you are seductively posing for pictures (photo credit: Jenny Lane)

So, what have your silver linings been? I don’t care if they are mundane, slightly selfish or even a little unusual, I want to read them. I’ll go first: I hate that Adelaide is gone, but am grateful that we are not caring for her through this pandemic. Also, its my birthday on Saturday and I get to spend it quietly at home with my boys… not that we’re not spending every day at home together for the foreseeable future but well, you get the idea. The bad will always be there. As Westley tells Buttercup in the aforementioned Princess Bride, ”Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something”. (I would like to add that I included this quote prior to reading it in Glennon Doyle’s Untamed - clearly we are soul sisters… or something). But we can choose to look for the good, while at the same time acknowledging the pain. It is not one or the other, they go hand in hand. Those silver linings might just be the thing that gets us through. That and meds, therapy, chocolate and a good hug…. as long as it is with someone with whom you are quarantining.