I’m still struggling with the bad choices in front of us, any of which will determine how long Caroline will be with us, how much comfort or peace she can have, and our comfort/peace/sanity around it all. I am nothing but a collection of flip-flopping decisions which hide the enormity of what’s waiting at the end of any of them…sorrow. Big, unreachable, scary sorrow. And all along, trying to remember…this isn’t about me. This is Caroline’s Journal, but it’s our journey. And I’m grateful that you’re here with me.

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