Where the very loud voices of my own fears, Ringin' and ringin' in my ears
I'm not sure how to categorize what I am feeling right now.
I was chatting with MAM the other day, and I asked her if she thought there was a such a thing as "anticipatory grief." She agreed that it was possible.
It's the only way I can think to describe this miasma of emotions.
Husband is at the airport right now, picking up my cousin at the airport. She is J~'s only child.
The decision that she should come home was made in the last 48 hours.
And what we are telling ourselves right now is that it would cheer J~ up to see his daughter.
But in the back of my head, in the dark places where monsters dwell, I hear the whispers that she is coming now, because if she doesn't come now...she may not have a chance to say good-bye.
These are not the things we say out loud.
There is a chance, a decent one, that what has happened this week can be fixed. There is a chance he will go home.
But the realization that we are fighting a losing battle is sinking in. I do not want it to sink in. And to his face, to my aunt's face, to my cousin's face - I am not willing to acknowledge this.
Here in this place, this place where I have always been honest...I will admit that my fears are running rampant over my hope.
I am ashamed that I have stopped thinking in the long term. My hopes at the moment are very short term. That he will walk on the beach again, that he will be able to eat my aunt's sour cherry pie (his favorite) again. That he might sit on his deck with his favorite people and drink a good beer and watch the sunset.
These are small hopes. The big hopes seem like pie in the sky at this point.
I want to tell you that J~ is not despairing, that in spite of everything, he is still laughing. His whole life...he has been joyful. And even now...he is laughing.
I wish I could be more like him.
*Patty Griffin, Nobody's Crying