Is it bad news week? Crappity Crap week?
Gwen’s good friend died, young, unfairly stealing her from her children.
Ann’s daughter died, after a long decline, and a tough life.
Kate’s babies are far too early, and she hurts.
I find myself stepping back from my own little anguishes and stupid maddening problems, and reminding myself that it could be worse. I could be listening to my heart break. I could be doubled over, in fear, with hope, wondering what I did to deserve this, when I did nothing.
Do words help right now? Do they really? They never helped me when I was hurting, not really. They helped after, when I was able to walk again, able to move without the heavy ache of agony on my feet. I wanted people to tell me it’s not fair! It’s horrible! instead of telling me how sorry they were. I wanted shoulders, not kleenex.
I cannot do anything for any of these women who I look up to, these women whose words help me on the bad days, remind me how magical life is, how a certain slant of light can make anything seem so fucking beautiful. It makes me angry, then weepy, thinking how helpless I am, how fruitless it is to think about making it better. Because I can’t.
It’s part of being alive, this pain. As I tell my daughter-nothing can live that does not die. Life is death-birth, in the long run, is death. But rationalizing it doesn’t make it better, doesn’t make it less sad that suffering is around me this week.
I’d pray if I could. I really would. But for now, holding each woman in my heart for a little while will need to do.
My latest post is up at GNMParents today. Go read.
Spin Me I Pulsate 
I can’t speak for Gwen or for Kate. For me, the words coming through my computer and from friends here have helped.
“A heart that hurts is a heart that works.” -Juliana Hatfield
Believe it or not, that has helped me through many a trial.
In my time of need, knowing people cared – wherever they were – helped me. i can only help it helps these three women and all involved.
no, it’s so not fair.
and i don’t know if the words really help, for me words didn’t help much after my mother’s death, but the presence of people – people calling every day to hear how we were, if they could help in any way, hundreds of people coming to the funeral – helped a lot. although those people may not have been feeling the same as me, it felt like sharing the grief, not having to carry everything alone. so nobody expects you to say the magic healing words, it’s enough to let them know you’re there, and they’re in your thoughts. at least that’s how i would feel about it.
I just hate it when shit happens to nice people. I know it’s life, I know it’s just the way things are but still…sigh.