Dear Friend,
If I were to talk to you in person I’d have no idea what to say to you. Because there’s nothing to say. I’m sure so many people have told you they love you and that they’ll be there in anyway you need them to be. I’m sure they mean it and I’m sure you believe them. But really beyond that, we’re powerless. I’m powerless to do anything that could be even remotely healing. I guess mostly because you’d never let me, but still. It is my job to heal people. I do it (or at least I try to) everyday. Then at the end of the day, I lock up my files securely (it’s the law) I tidy my desk (well, sometimes), and I head for the bus/train. And I leave it there. All of their pain and fear is in my office. Locked in my filing cabinets. I read my books and text my friends and listen to my music on the way home. And I don’t think about them until I return to the office the next day. I come home nearly every day to the sweetest greeting. A tiny little man whose head comes up to my waist jumps into my arms and squeezes me with all of his strength around my neck and kisses me with these funny kisses where he puckers so tightly it’s laughable. You’d really have to see it to know what I’m talking about. And while all this is happening I’m bombarded by wagging tales…all before I can even put my bag down. Sounds annoying. It’s not. I guess that’s what it is to be loved. We make dinner and read books. We sing a lot. We play the piano and the guitar and we watch the SAME DAMN MOVIE, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. Then bath time. A few small arguments and power struggles. Cuddle on the couch, and then to bed. Then I try to create some order in the house by collecting all of the match box cars, puzzle pieces, and single socks that have been strewn about the house all day,
Now it’s me time. I can watch grown-up shows and read books without pictures. Take a shower (maybe). Get on the internet. It all sounds small, but trust me when you have to schedule them, they become a big deal. There’s the downside: Money. Time management. Feeling suffocated sometimes. Just plain wanting to go to the bathroom by yourself! But it still ends up being worth it. This is pretty much my life, with small variations from day to day. It may mean that I’m cold, but I never bring the suffering of my clients home with me. I thought myself to be an expert on removing myself from issues that are not my own and knowing that there are very few things that are within my control. I believed that was a strength of mine in my field. And then there was you. I’m so sad for you. And scared for you. And hurt for you. Pain, anger, fear…today they ate dinner with us, took a bath with us, watched us sing our songs. They will read our books with us and will be going to bed with me. They’re not welcome in my home and yet they rudely refuse my demands to depart. The thing is if I know one thing about you it is that you are a survivor. I have no doubt about that. The only reasonable thing I can come up with is that I am selfish. How dare I cry and mourn and rage and panic over what is yours? I can’t stand myself right now. I can’t stand how I expect someone to console me. To make me understand. To make me feel safe and strong.
And I can’t stand how all I can do is say that I love you. I have since the day you called my name from the patio at Starbucks. And it’s so not enough and seemingly mundane to say, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurt and then again by being failed by the very thing you’ve committed your heart, soul, and life to. And I wish I could help. I wish I could tell some sort of joke that would make you laugh until your side hurt, or perform some gesture that would make you feel warm and loved. You’re so special to me. You always will be. I guess the selfish part of me is begging you not to disappear. I don’t mean physically (though I don’t want that either), but I mean you. The woman who has made me laugh harder than I’ve ever laughed before, pissed me off more than I ever been pissed off, made me involuntarily hold my breath just by feeling you. The woman who unselfishly took time out of her day on more than one occasion to take care of me because I was having a bad day is not someone who I can stand to lose. I have no right to ask this of you. It’s none of my business. This is your life and you will do what you please. But I wanted to tell you what knowing you means to me and how my heart breaks for you having had this experience. Remember, summer will be here before we know it. Your hair always looks so pretty in the sun.
Love always, unconditionally,
rem
Thursday, January 29, 2009
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