It is my sounding board. I have these thoughts and feelings and I figure everyone is tried of hearing about the feelings deep in my soul. Let's be real, I am tired of them. The fear, the anxiety, the nagging questions, the unanswered questions.
Being a good Catholic, I lay it all on the alter for God and my favorite Saints and the Universe to handle. I have to put them somewhere and this is where they find themselves. Most of the time it works. Most of the time, after I write it and hit publish and send it out of my life, I can move on.
I often return to find something and I am surprised by what I have said. It pulls me back to the moment, I rest with it awhile and then release it again. Sort of like Paul Sommerfeld's catch and release fishing. (Mary-Elizabeth loves fishing and never understands why he sends them back. If they wanted to stay in the water they would not be on the hook. If they were tricked to being there then they should not be returned to the gene pool. They are stupid fish.)
There are things said here that can not be given power of the spoken word. It is too painful. It is a sort of long long prayer, one I am grateful to share with those I love or even just intrigue. There is huge power in prayer, when the whisper goes out into the vast empty sanctuary and the masses repeat: Lord hear our prayer.
Mario has been gone for a year, today. He was one of our people. A big lovely young man that fought through so much and his body said, enough. He received his double cord transplant on January 23, 2011. The day before Mary-Elizabeth. We all lived on the floor, watched the progress of each other, complained about the horrible food. Helped each other, asked those weird questions only Cancer mom's ask: Counts? BK virus? GVHD?
We all survive, we all go on, we all weep, we all worry, we all pray. We all know tomorrow is another day.
And I still have to organize my shoes, now there is a big problem the Universe has not sorted out for me.