Sometimes it is so lovely to just lie on your soft bed with kitties, lamplight, and the Cowboy Junkies.
Here's Miep in the morning sun.
This has been one hell of a week, I tell you what, as Hank Hill would say. The sweet husband of my close friend L fell 20 feet off of a tall ladder and has been in ICU all week. Events, occurrences of this kind not only sucker punch you in the gut, but they whack you upside the head, too. It didn't even entirely register for a day. Even though I am not close to E, I am close enough to L for this to put me into shock. L is good about updating us on E's progress, but there was a 36 hour stretch where there was no update and I was beside myself. (I and I take up quite enough room, thank you.)
As of this morning, E is making slow and painful, but steady progress. Say a good word for him.
Then I became embroiled in a family contretemps with Aah who is chronically ill, on steroids, angry, and afraid. It is all so so sad. And I find it painful to not be able to comfort close ones. I understand existential pain well. And part of this misunderstanding is the legacy of family secrets and problems. Another part is the culture clash of the divorced parents, my father raising us, his second family in boys' town; the other side, the divorced mother was from a vociferiously female cabal and the offspring there were raised very differently.
I am not explaining this very well. I spent my emotional savings account for this week. As I was thinking about Aah and how Aah cannot seem to find any forgiveness for misunderstanding nor is there much sensitivity to others' emotional position. Aah doesn't, at least at this point, recognize the human shortcomings and humanity of others. Then I thought perhaps Aah could not see nor forgive this in themself.
This is the view from my bed.
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