Happy place

I asked Josh last night where his smile went and what it would take to bring it back. His answer, "I don't know." When I ask, rather often and hoping for a positive answer, how his day is going or how he's feeling or how he slept, his common answer is a monotone "OK" or that sound you make when you put your hand out, palm down and shake it a bit...something like "eeh."

I feel like the wife on City Slickers (we haven't had a movie reference here in a while so thought I'd include one).

Barbara: Go and find your smile. (she says to Billy Crystal's character, her husband Mitch)
Mitch: What if I can't?
Barbara: We'll jump off that bridge when we come to it.

Unlike Mitch, Josh doesn't think an adventure involving horses and cows would bring his smile back. I thought maybe the trip to Michigan we just returned from would put a smile on Josh's face that lasted more than just a day. We not only got seats 15 rows up on the 20 yard line behind the Michigan bench for the football game on Saturday, but also got a behind-the-scenes tour of Crisler Arena (and got to meet Coach Beilein, the basketball coach) and The Big House (including the $85K/year, 3-year commitment new luxury suites) AND got to spend 20 minutes playing on the field, kicking field goals, punting, throwing, running the length of the field, doing handstands on the big "M" in the middle, etc.

Here's proof:


(Josh's mom and my folks all partook in the whirlwind weekend as well.)

But alas. Throughout the game, Josh rarely smiled, did little cheering, and spent much of the time standing near the concessions since his son couldn't see well and had decided it was better to watch the game via the TVs up in the concessions area. The night before spent "sleeping" on an air mattress instead of a bed did nothing good for his back pain, so he spent the majority of Saturday feeling really lousy. Our two days (one up and one back) driving 17-20 hours through the night I'm sure didn't help either, even though we split up the driving fairly evenly (at least on the way home). Sleeping in a minivan is not ideal for almost anyone (the kids did amazingly sleep soundly).

I miss the "happy Josh." I see glimpses of that side of him occasionally and celebrate those times, doing what I can to extend that moment of life, however brief. In the meantime, I resist the natural urge to follow him down and instead continue to cheer-lead, smile, cajole, hug, comfort. I wish I could do more to help.