So today I spent all day in a facility. Filling forms, fielding accusations, fighting for calm.
Today, I left my love behind.
In good hands truly. At least, I pray so.
Today I learnt about life.
They’ve all lied. Julie Andrews and the rest – life isn’t rainbows, or mittens or kittens. NO matter how cute.
Life really is blue veined raw. Beating, pulsing. Angry.
My youngest child was brought home with the school counsellor. She needs support. She does. My 20 year old has made an appointment with the counselling team.
Life is telling your beloved he is in safe hands when all he sees is pain. And he blames you.
Life is telling your children that it will get better. It will be calm. It will be predictable, secure and kind. And if it isn’t you will beat Life until it is so. For them.
Life is telling your adult son that his pain is real, and frightening and overwhelming. But it will be surmountable. You promise. But you’re not entirely sure.
(Fuck. You’re really not sure.)
Life is full of surprises, not all of them good. And you can only hope that one day that thread of wrought, fraught pain matters.
To someone. Somewhere.
Life is frequently unfair, often unkind, occasionally cruel.
And yet, it is incredible.
Hope lies in its lap.
We are ever hopeful, prayerful, dutiful.
Life is unpredictable – sometimes for the good. Sometimes not, at least not that we can tell.
I bid my love goodbye today. And then I prayed as if every blood vessel in my body was a chapel that it would be OK.
I was uncomfortably mortal today, but I was alive. And gratefully, so was he.