It’s been another tough week and I find myself, once again, writing the shallow blog in a sad world. I’m thinking this may be harder for you, my readers, than it is for me since you quite possibly have been using this blog as a bit of a diversion, a little comic relief from things more important and pressing. But, I beg your pardon, I never promised you a rose garden. And tonight there is no joy in Mudville, I’m afraid. This week two families have lost a child, one to a horrendous accident and the other to a devastating disease. I know this happens everyday but this time it hit close to home with one being a good friend of my son and the other a good friend of a friend of his. As they suffer their loses together they find solace in conversation, in joining with others to celebrate the life and mourn the death of their friends. But I think it is too soon, too soon for this much sadness to come into their lives. As a Mother I understand the unbearable pain the death of a child brings to a family and, at the same time I am faced with the stark reality that all of the worrying, cajoling and praying I do to keep my children safe cannot protect them. Because I know that these Mothers worried too, they did everything they could to keep their children safe and yet they are gone. This week my heart breaks for those families.
Sorry but there is more. Last week my gorgeous, bright and vibrant sister-in-law, my youngest Brother’s wife, endured a seven and a half hour operation to remove a tumor from her spine. The good news is that she is going to be ok, the not so good news is that it might take a while. But if there is a heaven, and who am I to say if there is or isn’t, this marriage was made in it. We all know that because we can feel the love they have for each other and for their children whenever we walk into their home, share a meal, or join them in the celebration of a milestone. They have friends and family, lots of them, to help out and I know how important that is. But it is the strength of their love, their joy of life and everything in it, and their undying optimism that will carry them through. Next time I see Ruth she will be better than she is now and the time after that, better yet. I know this to be true because she won’t have it any other way. So here’s my “I know you’ll get well soon” wish ‘cause I know you will.
So there it is. Yep I’m still shallow. It’s just a little hard to talk about it right now.
And we think our lives are tough until . . . thanks for reminding us Wendy of how fortunate we are!