Six months later and I'm still standing at the edge of the crater where the bombs went off. Funny thing is, they are still going off around me and I do not seem to mind.
I feel paralyzed and yet do not want to try and move. I identify with my obliviousness, I embrace my disconnection with life around me. It stops me from feeling, from getting hurt by the bombs that continue to fall around me. I am comfortable here where the flood waters have covered me--Insulated.
It's still a small crew that gets it, that talks about it, a core that remains bonded in grief. Some of the closest people to me do not speak of it.
I don't want to be coddled--I want to be acknowledged, validated. It's very lonely where I am because this isn't something you would ever want anyone else to have to understand. I do want people to acknowledge that life will never be the same, that my wife has never been sicker, and that Isaac will probably never have a sibling to bring home to keep. Insulation.
The harsh events do bring me comforting certainty, know we can't have any more children, that there is no hope brings me solace: that I never have to lose a child that way again. The word "possibility," the phrase "with close medical supervision" only brings me pain right now, for I cannot fathom enduring that pain again. One time is a tragedy, to willfully repeat it is folly, hubris in the face of the Creator.
Laura is doing better though...it's amazing the things you do to your body to fix the other parts of your body. She takes 7 medications, 13 pills a day in an effort to stop and reverse the damage to her kidneys, the damage that Lupus has done, the Lupus that was caught by an obstetrician, not her rheumatologist, the very specialist that told her that other doctors shouldn't diagnose what they are not trained in. We are blessed by a team of doctors that truly live up to the oath. I am blessed by the strongest, most amazing woman that I do not deserve. My wife is my hero and she brings out the best parts of me. While she would not be able to open her gas cap if I was gone, my heart would stop if I didn't have her...I know because I almost lost her 6 months ago tonight.
This is a bitter, yet thankful posting, the best I can do on this raw milestone of a life that was over too soon. I miss you, Liam...Daddy loves you so much
Well I'm never reading this blog again. This all sucks. And at first I didn't understand Nick was reading this and I thought Laura must be drunk. I'm glad you haven't taken to the bottle. Not that Nick sounds drunk - he just didn't sound like Laura.
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