For many years now, I’ve avoided seeing tearjerker movies, I figure there is enough sadness in the world to go around, why see something that makes you sad on top of everything else that is going on in the world. Even though I avoid seeing tragedies on the big screen, I am somehow drawn to books that make me cry. A hypocrite? Maybe it’s just easier to put down a book than leave a movie theater. I dunno. Today I sped through a book called Let’s Take the Long Way Home – a book about a woman who loses her best friend to cancer. I read on the sly it while I was in statistics class – crying, crying while taking notes on probability.
When I was giving the sermon on Sunday, I could see Edda in the way back, in her wheel chair and as I was not in my usual spot in in reference to her or even in reference to myself. I was not myself – I was somehow a stranger to myself while giving this little homily. Somehow I felt like I got an outsider’s glimpse of what Edda is like – arms flailing, teeth grinding, needing a video to keep her preoccupied – it’s not a pretty sight. It’s not the beauty I see when I tuck her into bed at night, when I am close to her body and I caress her cheek, feel her snuggle up to me and watch her sigh contentedly into her slumber.
I feel the renewal of my grief for all of Edda’s lost potential this year more than I’ve felt it in the last couple of years. I think it’s the realization that if not for her disability, I would no longer need child care and all the stresses that go along with finding that care and the expense. We’ve had a three people in various positions leave Edda side (in mysterious, happy (although unexpectedly), and decidedly unhappy situations) and I feel like Edda is no longer easy be with – not only to find activities that she wants to engage in with others, but also just keeping her clean and safe and happy. What does Edda want to do? It’s hard to say. Edda’s daily unhappiness (which is getting better I suppose) is, of course, compounding my anxiousness and sadness.