Grief

It sweeps over me in the oddest of places and I wonder what they think of the lady with the stroller, crying in the line for pancakes.  It's awkward and inconsiderate in its timing and refuses to be contained to the corners of my day and my life in which is would be more appropriate or at least less inconvenient.  But please don't try to take this grief from me.  Sure, it hinders my joy.  Certainly, it dampens my carefree spirit.  But, oh, does it shield me from arrogance and ignorance!  It shapes my words with gentleness and opens my eyes with empathy.  It makes my soul bleed compassion and acceptance.  I know it makes you uncomfortable that I can't talk about this without tearing up, but please please don't take this grief from me.  It is what I need to be what she needs.

Catch-22

The trick about it all, is that I need to love you as my child, which doesn't sound that tricky.  But loving you as my child means that I can't imagine a day without you, while I work towards a life without you.  Because they say what's best for you is to learn to love and trust me for now, so that you can learn to love and trust your mom and dad forever, when they are ready.  And this all sounds very reasonable until that moment when I do love you and I realize that I am hoping and praying and working towards something that will break my heart into a million pieces.  Because, Lord help me, I love you as my child.