Tuesday, April 07, 2009


We are home, but not back to normal. The last 48 hours have been a fog, and I'm not even on the codeine. Sleeping on the trundle bed, awakened at all hours. Alarms set in the middle of the night for medicine. Chapters of inane cat warrior stories read out loud for hours on end. Naps at the foot of her bed, trying not to jostle the arm. Coordinating Buddy's care and entertainment. Figuring out what to eat, how to eat. It is all a blur.

Add to the mix the news that the husband of a friend of mine died on Sunday. Brain cancer. A year and a half battle. Three kids. Married same length of time we were. Perspective. More fog. More schedule coordinating--Dr. appointments, visitation, work, funeral, more work, Easter. I don't know what to feel, so I don't feel at all.

I gave my daughter a journal a year or so ago to write back and forth to one another. A way to share things that are hard for her to say. In the last six months or so, it has become her confessional. Last night, I beat her to the punch. I told her how much we loved her. How this could have been so much worse. How we were not happy with her, but we weren't angry with her either. I told her how we would not hold this over her head. And how this didn't change our love for her.

Then I told her the awful truth about being a mother. About how hard it was to watch her pain and her fear. About how I had tried to spare her that pain and fear, had she only listened to me. I told her about how hard it is to know that she will make her own choices when I'm not around, and I can't guarantee the outcome of those choices. And I told her about how scary that is for a Momma.

I think about Jill's children. About her breaking heart. About theirs. I think about how we would do ANYTHING to spare our children pain. I think about how their comes a point where it's out of our hands. I think about pins in elbows, about funeral arrangements, about sleeping but not sleeping, about carpool plans. Too much.

I sit here at work, wondering why I'm here. My first two appointments have not shown up. I need a distraction. Someone else's problems to think about. I'm tired of thinking about my own.

Perspective. Relief. Healing. I will focus here.

1 comment:

Cindy said...

Very good post, Lorie. Very good.