I just saw her: she had crazy blue hair, and tattoos and joie de vivre that was infectious

In Memoriam: Peyton Nicole Marsh

This little pixie from heaven was irresistible.  She always had a plan and she seemed to have it all figured out:seemed being the operative word here!

But that never mattered to me.  I just enjoyed every minute I had with her.  She sparkled and when she couldn’t sparkle, due to the cystic fibrosis that was eating at her insides, I usually managed to make her let her guard down. . Or at least let me tell her I knew of the pain and frustration of disease and hospitals and doctors and helplessness.  We shared that bond, even though I knew that her burden was far, far heavier than mine.

Sometimes she would even let me pet her ivory face and and put her sweet head on my lap as we watched tv.  This isn’t easy; because getting a heavenly made and heavenly bound pixie to let you pet her is not easy.  In fact, it could cause the potential petter, harm.  It almost certainly leads to a shattered heart. I liken it to the rarity of falling in love with a particular humming bird that has slowed long enough for you to lock eyes with it, to touch it, and to let you think, just for a minute that it could be yours.

For all who loved her;  they know what I am trying to express.  As I am sure that love led them to the exact same place.

I just feel so blessed that I was let inside.

This little angel tried in her last years to look scary.  She wanted people to know she was not the 12 year old her body led you to believe.  So she experimented with different kinds of armor. You see, what she lacked in size, she made up for in wisdom and the absolute oblivion of a young person that just hurtles though life, trying to taste from all of its riches.  She was way older than either 12 or 21.  I think she had a very old soul, whatever that actually means.  And I think she was stuck in a sort of long term adolescence that said, “What the hell? Why not try it all?”

And she did.

The year we bought a ski boat (We just had it that one year.) she wanted to go with us every time. She would cling onto the the big inner tube behind the boat and wanted Stan to drive her faster and faster.  She reminded me of a little tick.  She was glued to it and she grinned the whole time.

Also, when she started driving, she and her suburban assault vehicle were quite the team; there is no nice way to put it: She drove like a bat out of hell.

Once, I had to have her take me to the ER.  I really hated asking but of course she took me over to the one at Seton Williamson.  I thought for absolute sure, we would die before we ever got there!

As we finally made it there, she said she would park and come inside with me.  I told her, “NO WAY!”  Your immune system is worse than mine and you ARE NOT hanging out in an ER! So she told me she loved me and left.

In earlier years, when Peyton would go to Dell Children’s for a two week ‘tune up’ a couple of times a year, my daughter, Hannah, would crawl right up in the bed with her and they would play with paper dolls and horse figurines. Stan and I or her parents,  Gary and Michelle would make food runs. Hannah told me recently that she never thought about it being a hospital then.  It was just a place where her Peyton was so she went there.

Then,  before we even knew it, it seemed, there we were, shopping for prom dresses, or better…..   going on  fancy birthday travel, to the River Walk in San Antonio, etc.  and numerous other destinations all thanks to Michelle and Gary (Peyton’s parents).

On Prom night, I had the privilege to  do hair and make up for Hannah Beth, Peyton and another girl, who was not at all sure she wanted to go.

So I fed them cheese, crackers and a tiny bit of wine, that was carefully laced with mineral water. Peyton liked the wine and wanted MORE! but I have her a firm NO on that one

And then, after graduation, a graduation that featured Peyton’s incredible pipes on a song with the school’s rock band; it was all over.

No.  It wasn’t.  But, in place of school, Peyton had to figure out what was next. She had a string of jobs and found out that academically all the time she had spent in hospital rooms had really put a dent in her education.  But, I told her over and over and over, those were things she could catch up on very quickly because she was so damned smart.

I don’t think she ever found a comfortable spot for herself in the work and school world.

But it didn’t matter to any of us.

We just wanted her… here…. with us.

But, as it slowly became apparent that was not G-d’s plan for her, I am quite sure I am not the only one who had some choice things to say to the Creator.

It took my daughter a long time to understand and process all of this.  And now, she is processing it anew.

It isn’t fair.

It isn’t ok.

God, in my opinion, does not create suffering.

But God does teach us how to be compassionate to others.

And I think the best teacher I have ever known in the art of compassion is without a doubt: Peyton Nicole Marsh.

Maybe that is why her time with us was so short.

She definitely had a lesson. And she definitely taught it.

I know that I will keep processing what I have learned from the blue haired, tattooed pixie for the rest of my life.

Rest in peace, sweet pixie.. heaven is lucky to have you..