Just Write: Half of Me

Half of me is sick. He doesn’t feel good.

But it isn’t an illness you see with your eyes. And to most that makes him okay.

When he wakes up in the morning a kiss is replaced by, “How do you feel today?”

And most days he does okay. But in the last year I have become so in tune with my other half.

He wants to be strong. He doesn’t want sympathy, pity or attention.

He wants his life before this all started.

And if I am honest. I do, too.

ea64c4a180c9622ef530d8a70e61d5baWe had friends that actually cared, called and checked on us.

We had conversations that did revolve around the latest round of whatevers.

It is the whatevers that are getting us.

A new development every day. A new hurdle. A new catastrophe. But is it?

The catastrophe is the emotional toll on my family.

My girls have to have daily conversations about their fears and the what ifs.

Those are conversations that children shouldn’t have to have.

Even more those are conversations that they need people in their life for.

And they aren’t. They have me. They have him.

We look in the mirror and there is just us.

People don’t want to hear it anymore.

I suppose we represent something in them they don’t want to see.

The rough and tumble of life. The unnamed whatevers.

But I can’t always talk about the pretty flowers outside.

There are two worlds here….

At home the real one

Or the one where we “trod” on

I suck at both right now.

Maybe there will come a day when I won’t.

When I will be less bitter at the realization that real friends

are your friends that stand beside you. Then there are

your friends who are friends when it is easy.

Or bitter that I can’t control or predict the outcome of my own life.

Yes I choose to be happy. But it is a choice.

I want to be angry, sad and desolate.

But what does that accomplish?

Bad stuff does happen to good people.

It happens every day.

I know it could be worse.

It could always be worse.

But I am scared. Half of me is scared.

The what ifs. The possibilities. The discrimination.

The big ugly elephant that no one wants to talk about. But everyone sees.

Well we live with him.

~ MR
_________

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