Wednesday, April 6, 2011

The why...



A few years ago my LawyerBoy was very ill.
I don't talk about it often. It was an awful time. 
No one likes to talk about the awful in their life. But the mind retains too much of the awful. 
My mind is full of things I'd rather forget. There are days I long for some type of alien erasure spell. 
No luck with that yet.






My son came back to me after ten awful days. He doesn't remember a thing.
I will never forget a thing. 
He apologizes for my memories, and his sincere apologies for something he had absolutely no control over, 
makes me feel even more awful.





I know most everyone has awful days. 
The days when you make deals with a God you don't always talk to, and seldom worship.
A God you curse because he's holding the power while you're waiting for a miracle...
...and He's creating rainbows in someone else's sky.
I've lived those bleak days when you realize you'd surrender every earthly possession, every dollar you've saved, 
and live on the street. 
In a box. Alone. 
Most everyone knows those days.


If you haven't had days like that, hold on, because you will. Eventually. 
There's no escape from the awful.
I used to think that some people were granted immunity from pain. 
I soon realized that my small glimpses into other people's lives are just that. 
Small glimpses, nothing more. 
Gone are the days I spent wishing I was someone else. 




For years my friend Lisa walked around smiling, lifting groceries, chauffeuring her boys. 
She never wore her illness, she never carried it around with her.
Most people glanced at her and labeled her lucky. 






I had a problem with that. 


I wanted every single person who saw her to know she had cancer. 
I wanted to make sure no one beat her to a parking space, snapped up the last bagel at the bakery, 
or gave her a dirty look because she wasn't moving fast enough.
I wanted to go around tapping strangers on the shoulder saying, "She has cancer you idiot, put that bagel back". 
I wanted to shame them. 
I told her my feelings once. She laughed, and told me to stop it.
I tried.


She's having a very difficult time now, and I'm sitting here without an answer.
I believe in the power of prayer, the miracles of medicine, and faith.
I believe that if I ramble long enough someone might tell me what to do.