Why is it that the hardest things to handle happen when you are alone. Tonight R is in Atlantic City for a concert and I have the house to myself and baby J. We had a little excitement here tonight before bed. J had slipped in the bathroom and hit his head. I kept him up to make sure he was ok. He is fine. Started laughing and handing me books within minutes. Then R calls and tells me he doesn’t feel well and missed his concert.
I decided to watch this past Thursday’s episode of ER. What a bad idea to do when I am all by myself. A little girl was shot with a stray bullet. Her mom was in the room with her and she was talking to her daughter. She was telling her that it is ok to let go and to move on to the next ‘place’. That she loves her very much and so on. I just cant write all of it. Fortunately the little girl survived.
I just saw myself with my mom at the end of the first night of Passover this year. The doctors told us that she wasn’t going to make it until the morning. I sat next to her and said {almost} everything this mother said to her daughter. I cried and told her that she should watch us from above. I told her that I would miss her and that I really love her.
It’s amazing how much it hurts to feel the loss. Laurel, you should have warned me not to watch this tonight.
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