Like a Long Empty Road Going Nowhere
I stopped at home to have lunch with my boyfriend. But then there was bickering, then a full-fledged fight, and somehow I ended up curled fetal on the bed, crying until my cheeks burned.
My wishes are not wildly ridiculous. I want a house. Eventually I want a baby.
We can't afford it. And it'll be years before he is in any kind of financial position to contribute to the household.
He tells me to be patient. To give it ten years. To put things on hold for another decade.
Ten years.
Usually I'm optomistic about it. We squeeze each other tight, and I say, "At least we have each other! Nobody can take our spirit!"
But today I'm sad and depressed. I'm feeling sorry for myself. I ask him to tell me it's all going to be OK. He can't, and instead he gets mad.
It's not going to be OK. There are things out of our control. Grief, pain, legal disputes, financial and emotional bankruptcy.
I cry and cry and cry. It all looks so grim when you're seeing things with blurry eyes.
There's another piece of the puzzle, a woman out there, and not a night goes by that I don't send her compassion, grace and peace. My friends, too, have put her on prayer list after prayer list. Even 2,000 miles away, we try to envelop her with love and understanding.
And I have to choke back gulps of sadness on a day like today, when I realize that not all the light and goodness and love in the world make one bit of difference.
I could scrub my skin raw, try to peel the accident off my skin, and it's still not good enough. How do you ever detach yourself from the past? How many times can you say you're sorry? How do you move into the future from a point like this?
He holds me and his eyes are a flash flood, tears streaking down his face.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says. "I wish I could make it better. But I can't."
My wishes are not wildly ridiculous. I want a house. Eventually I want a baby.
We can't afford it. And it'll be years before he is in any kind of financial position to contribute to the household.
He tells me to be patient. To give it ten years. To put things on hold for another decade.
Ten years.
Usually I'm optomistic about it. We squeeze each other tight, and I say, "At least we have each other! Nobody can take our spirit!"
But today I'm sad and depressed. I'm feeling sorry for myself. I ask him to tell me it's all going to be OK. He can't, and instead he gets mad.
It's not going to be OK. There are things out of our control. Grief, pain, legal disputes, financial and emotional bankruptcy.
I cry and cry and cry. It all looks so grim when you're seeing things with blurry eyes.
There's another piece of the puzzle, a woman out there, and not a night goes by that I don't send her compassion, grace and peace. My friends, too, have put her on prayer list after prayer list. Even 2,000 miles away, we try to envelop her with love and understanding.
And I have to choke back gulps of sadness on a day like today, when I realize that not all the light and goodness and love in the world make one bit of difference.
I could scrub my skin raw, try to peel the accident off my skin, and it's still not good enough. How do you ever detach yourself from the past? How many times can you say you're sorry? How do you move into the future from a point like this?
He holds me and his eyes are a flash flood, tears streaking down his face.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says. "I wish I could make it better. But I can't."
This entry was posted on
Wednesday, June 20, 2007 at 6:38 PM.
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By
Brian, at
8:23 PM
Maggie,
I am so sorry to hear the personal difficulties you and Jason are suffering through right now. Even though we have never met, through Jaime and the stories she has told me about you and Jason, I feel as though I can truly empathize with your situation.
Have faith that you two will make it through this no matter how desperately impossible that may presently seem; for you two have the only thing that can triumph over all else: Love. Always keep that in mind and hold it above all else, and if you do, you will never fall victim to any outside set of circumstances we all call life.
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