C & S Mommy

Friday, October 27, 2006

I ran so hard...

This time I knew it was coming. Watching the clock waiting for the phone to ring. All I wanted was to hear her voice on the other end telling me that everything was fine. Joking about how Rob handled it all – come get the car Rob passed out and bumped his head – the dumb ass. But it wasn’t her it was him. The pause told me what I already knew but he still had to say the words and a little piece of me died with hearing them. Yesterday Dianna knew but I didn’t want to believe it. God wouldn’t do this to us. Not now when so much is going on. Not when we were all praying so hard. Not again when they wanted this so badly. I couldn’t go see her right away. Waiting for Cecilia’s swim lesson to finish I ran on the treadmill. I ran so hard chasing down something to say to her. An answer for her. Anything, really, that would make it better. I ran so hard and still couldn’t catch up to any logic. I went to her and held her saying nothing. We cried together again. Again. Again. AGAIN! Why again? I want to understand. I want to believe that this is nature and not something bigger punishing us. All these things going through my head. Things I want to apologize for: I am sorry that there is a part of me that is relieved that she told everyone and I don’t have to go through this with her alone again. Relieved that I can be a little bit more selfish – a little less strong – a little more sad because she has other people to lean on. I am sorry that I want so desperately for her to try again because I know (I have always known) what a wonderful mother she will be and what a wonderful father Rob will be. I want her to try again because I believe that it will be different – successful. And selfishly I want her to try for me too. I want so desperately to be an aunt to her child. To live up to the standard she has set through my children. I want to be as good as her – or at least close. But who the hell am I? And what does it matter what I think? But most of all I am sorry for not being able to fix her pain. For not being able to say or do that one thing that will take her sadness away. And trust I would do anything – even carry the pain myself – to release her for even just a moment. But it is her burden to carry while the rest of us get to watch powerless. I imagine that if each one of us has our own personal hell that would be mine – watching the people I love struggle while I stand by unable to help.