Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The Juggler

I am usually a glass half full girl-
I see the rose not the thorns.

The rainbow not the storm.

My grass is always greener.



And yet life has been heavy on me and that which weighs on me most is my dear Nan. My Grandma Jonasen (1/2 of the "Jonasens" my twinless twin is named after).

She had a heart attack.

And then surgery.

And then another heart attack.

And surgeries are no longer safe to do.

Her dementia will get worse they tell us.

And though I see my spunky, youthful, 7-years-to-a-century old Nan hooked up in her hospital bed- (surely a reason to see the glass half full)- something is wrong... with me.



The balls that I am juggling are flying above my head and I wonder which will drop first.



I think that life is like this.

It goes in waves of ups and downs and even the most optimistic of all can have days where they are angry, terrified, drowning in the tide.

And life is like this. Feelings are like this. They aren't right or wrong, they simply are.



If I can hold the balls up, tomorrow I will be going to our local support group (the one where I found myself again)- hoping to help others. But it can be so hard to give when you feel you have nothing in you.



So please.



Don't tell them:

At least they have another at home.

At least they know they can be pregnant.

At least it was just a miscarriage.

At least it happened before you really "knew" them.



It will get better in time.

It is still so early.

It is still so fresh.

It happened for a reason.



While some of these (may) be true, it is not what they need and your well-intentioned words may fall on ears that are closed- on ears that are having a half empty day- on hands that are grasping for balls as they slip away from them one by one...



Sometimes it is enough to just tell them you're thinking of them.

Tell them you remember them.

Tell them you're praying for them.



And then just be.

And listen.

For when the balls stop bouncing, and they gather them all again,

they just may have something to say,

And it may be their words that help them find themselves-

And see what they DO have.



Just be.

I feel his arms wrap around my neck.

I close my eyes.

I remember.

8 comments:

  1. The tide comes in and goes out... the ocean always remains.

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  2. So right.

    Thinking of you and wishing the best for your Grandma.

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  3. Beautiful, Laura; very poetic, especially at the end. Love the photo you used with this. I'm sorry things are so difficult for you right now. Wish I could take some of the burdens from you. Please know I am thinking of you and will walk this road with you, too. Lots of love and HUGS!

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  4. Just wanted to let you know we are thinking of you and your family.

    Cathi

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  5. This photo is so gorgeous. Your blog was one that I clung to in my early days after loss. I got away from the blogs for a couple of months and am so glad to have found yours again. xo

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  6. This photo is so gorgeous. Your blog was one that I clung to in my early days after loss. I got away from the blogs for a couple of months and am so glad to have found yours again. xo

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  7. Just wanted to let you know we are thinking of you and your family.

    Cathi

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