haze

I’ve felt like I’ve been kicked in the teeth since I went and saw Brock this past weekend. I know things probably would have been different if I wasn’t visiting him a few days after surgery, or maybe if I would have come during the night since that’s when he’s awake now, but no matter how much I rationalize it, I can’t adequately put into words how much this past Saturday gutted me. This type of pain seems to evaporate all life in me leaving me empty and tired. Really tired.

Today when I got off work, I was in this pain haze. I had to run errands and I found myself standing in the middle of Target staring blankly at nothing in particular. I do that a lot when the haze sets in. It makes me wonder how much time a day I spend staring off into space. It’s not like zoning out, because I’m aware of everything around me. It’s just like things become muted and apathy has a whole new meaning. Or maybe that’s not right. It’s not that I don’t care. It’s more like I’m too overloaded so I power off.

And this is exactly what I did in La Cygne. I was so overcome by grief from seeing my love in front of me fighting this horrible monster inside his body; from seeing him so weak and so reliant on his parents for even the most humiliating things; from knowing that he knows, he’s aware of his situation and he doesn’t have the means to truly communicate his wants, needs, fears, and hopes; and from the utter loss of not being able to see him know me… I was so overcome that I went near comatose save the cruel leaking from my eyes. I couldn’t even sob. Every time this haze sets in it feels like a chunk of me dies.

But the most bizarre thing is that hope never dies. Just when I think I will go on existing as a zombie, He steps in. Always. I don’t have a moving battle cry this time around. Just know that He is who He says He is and because of that He never abandons.

Thank you, my God, who loves me.