I never wanted to even think that I was especially special; never thought it, certainly never said it, and if anyone tried to either say that I was, or that I was trying to say so, I have always been quick to dispute them.
Not then, not now, not ever.
But I believe God's promise, and that there is someone out there for me that I will be personally especial to.
The supreme cruelty is to deliberately torch someone's hopes of being that to and for someone else-and Crusty did that to Fox, and to me.
I am trying to give up hopelessness for Lent. It is not, of course, easy.
A couple of years before my best friend's husband died of lung cancer (that metastisized to his brain-he died a horrific death, raving, unable to recognize his beloved wife, daughter, parents...) we were talking on the phone and she scoffed at my grief over what Crusty had done to me when he ensured that my strength and youth would be squandered on the struggle to survive. I reached out to her (although truthfully I knew better and regretted the words the moment they left my mouth. I love her, but she isn't the brightest star in the night time sky) for help, and she scoffed, "You don't need a man to be happy!"
To which I replied (not knowing how short their time was) "Right, how would you feel if you lost Mike?" The thought brought her up short; she gasped, then changed the subject.
Two years later he was dead, a week or so before their double digit anniversary. Now she knows; if I could change it for her I would.
Their teen-aged daughter came home from school one day to find him running naked through the house cutting all of the power cords-ALL; computers, phones, TV, table lamps..
My friend had to call for help to get him to hospital; not understanding (typical of her) the seriousness of the situation she rang his brother; together they managed to restrain him, dress him somewhat, and get him to hospital, where he was quickly admitted.
It took the hospital staff a few weeks to help my friend figure out he had cancer, that he was dying, and would do so without regaining his faculties.
And as quickly as she grasped the notion, she let it go. She and their beautiful daughter hung on to the hope that they would bring him home and he would recover; the doctors had made a mistake-not cancer but some silly little thing that only seemed like cancer-ooops, sorry about that.
When he died it took her six or so months to really 'get' that he'd been sick for YEARS-the illness wrought subtle changes in his behaviour that she missed, dismissed, or plain didn't see.
He left her tremendously in debt, with their business affairs scrambled, and several online stock accounts she can't access because in his deepening paranoia he had pass-worded, 'locked' and 'safe-guarded' the access so tightly even he most have had trouble accomplishing transactions, especially in his last months. Every bit of their rather substantial savings is virtually gone into these accounts-the lawyers will get most of it when she is finally able to force the investment companies to recognize her as the heir.
It is said that misery loves company, and I have disputed that elsewhere in this blog.
I look around me and I see the horror that is engulfing the known world, and I am grief-stricken anew at what someone, ANYONE else, is suffering. I tried to teach my son that the goal in life is to not spread fear, pain, and/or anger. I tried to teach Fox to use whatever bad thing had happening to him as a way to gain compassion for others, and to dedicate himself to alleviating the sufferings of others through the understanding he might have gained from his own. It is, I believe, the only worthwhile goal.
Another stupid saying people use as a justification to spread fear and misery is "No-body said life would be fair!"
Stupid people, and their stupid sayings.
I believe this is The Life of The Winnowing. So stupid people will REALLY answer, this go-round; they won't be going 'round again if they don't change their ways.
Pay attention-if you really want to help...
God said "Life can and should be fair; look, I've made it simple, hey Moishe, take these tablets to my children..."