The cruelty of this disease consumed me this morning. Some of its wickedness is obvious. She can't walk or even crawl. She can't talk to us or see us across the room. Celia can't feed herself, sleep through the night, help her brother learn new things.
What might not be so obvious is how this disease slowly attacks the parents, too. It has brought out the worst in me. I'm irritable, callous, and impatient. Sometimes I'm not nice to my wife. I get mad at my dog for barking when the mail comes. Cruelest of all is the pain I get in the pit of my soul after I lose it... when I realize that someday she won't be here.
I pray for patience. I pray for peace. And some nights the only thing I pray for is that we all get some sleep.
Andy
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
8 comments:
Andy My Boy,
Once again,
#%&@*%# lipopigments!
Peace...
and love to all 4.
perspective... you just put a whole new one on my day.
Andy,
You are one of the most amazing fathers and husbands I know. We are all praying right along with you!
I know this sounds stupid....but this whole thing just makes me so mad at God - it's just not fair! Why does anyone have to suffer like this!
"Hurt people hurt people."
(Bill Cosby)
... and that's where Love comes in!
Andy I think it's good that you are so honest with your pain. I can feel it through the computer. I am thinking of you all.
I don't even know you all - yet I wish I could take, at least for a while, some of your pain, shouldering it for you. I'm sorry I've never met you. I'm Erin's mother, Ross' grandmother. I see the concern for you on Erin's face from time to time. I don't often feel helpless - or at a loss for words - but, at this time I am.
Know I think of you all often.
You have been teaching me so much about faith and love and perseverance, just through your words! Keep being honest, that way the "wicked"ness cannot take root.
Post a Comment