At the same time that I’m rejoicing at my good news, my heart aches for others. My “sister” Julia is struggling and needs our constant prayers. She is such a good soul, such a beautiful person, inside and out, and has been fighting for so long and so hard. She needs us — our combined strength from afar, in thoughts, in prayers, in whatever you have for her.
And another, a co-worker/friend, who sadly lost her baby granddaughter this morning. This granddaughter just recently had the fourth open heart surgery, the last one she would have until she reached adulthood. Everything had gone so well up until this one when her heart wasn’t responding, her kidneys weren’t working, and her blood pressure wasn’t regulating. The poor little one died this morning. I can’t imagine this family’s grief. They’ve been through so much with this little girl and now she’s gone.
My friend Krissi is grieving due to the loss of a good friend of hers, a vibrant young woman who died suddenly. Senselessly. “Why?,” her loved ones must all be asking. The grief will be all-consuming for her loved ones for some time, I’m sure.
The first mothers who are grieving their lost children all the time, but maybe a little bit more around Mother’s Day, an in-your-face reminder that their placed children aren’t being mothered by them. It’s grief, plain and simple. It’s a loss and it’s unfair and it’s ongoing and once again, it’s something that I can’t imagine and I can’t take away. Particularly Suz who is not only wondering about her daughter who is graduating and who might disappear into the ether of non-addresses, but whose mother is now having a health crisis. Send good thoughts Suz’ way. Nicole who is struggling with hearing from her daughter, Moonbeam, on Mother’s Day. Jenna, who wrote several poignant posts about missing Munchkin around Mother’s Day; I simply chose one. I’ll mention Circus Peanuts again; she actually had her daughter on Mother’s Day nine years ago. Lauren who I suspect hides her sadness through her “I don’t care” attitude. I hope you don’t mind that I included you, girlie; you know it’s out of love. I could go on and on, you know. I don’t mean to dis’ anyone by not mentioning you, but really, anyone listed in the First Parents’ section of my blog is probably suffering.
And adoptees as well. One in particular I need to mention at this time is our Theresa who is suffering because of being recently rejected by her first mother. Other adoptees know this rejection as well, such as Mia and Possum. It has to still hurt.
It’s not guilt that I’m doing well — well, in the world of cancer, that is — and others aren’t. Guilt implies that I’ve done something wrong and I haven’t. It’s just a sense of the unfairness of it all, a sadness underneath the joy for me. A knowledge that things don’t always add up. A sense that while I wish I could take on the burdens of all and make them better . . . . I know I can’t. I simply can’t. I do the little that I can. I say comforting words. I pray. I pray some more.
It never seems like enough, but it’s all that we mere mortals have.
I pray and I hope. And I rejoice when others get good news and can be joyful about something as well.
I always hope that lives and hearts can heal some.
I pray for that every day.
Not just for myself, but for all of you.
