I took a deep breath and laughed at myself. I am here to complain about it. Beautiful, athletic, young mothers dying at home, surrounded by family and friends who are now bereft and clinging to one another... even if some need a bit of alone time. They, too, are here to complain about it, but they watched her die and could do nothing to stop the process and now they are here and she is not.
Survivor's Guilt.... out of which grew GRandparentsINresidence ..... because Christina-Taylor won't have the chance to make the world a better place, I can try to do it in her honor... in her memory.... just because we had so much fun and I want everyone else to share the joy.
I'm laughing, again.
PTSD, the gift that keeps on giving, has been biting the butts of our on-line Survivor's Group with just these kinds of brain tornadoes. Around and around and around and there's barely an exit ramp... I can be happy because she'd want me to be happy and then I surround myself with little kids and I'm joyful and which came first?
I don't know and I don't care. I medicate with their love, and they learn with me and it's making everyone, including the teacher, very happy.
Christina-Taylor's involvement in the events of January 8th provided my introduction to this school, these administrators and faculty and staff... these women and men who smile and tease and tie shoes and listen carefully and marvel at the progress their charges have made.
Does it matter that I'm doing it because it mitigates the sadness, or that the hugs feel good, or, because, as her Dad reminds us, Christina would not want us to be sad, or because I feel a responsibility - not a guilty sense of duty, but a responsibility - to finish the work she and I were starting that Saturday morning?
I've always taken kids along to do good deeds; just ask the Cuters' friends. Doing the same with Christina-Taylor and her mom would have been no different. We'd have found something worthwhile and meaningful and hypoallergenic (I had already vetoed Animal Control and the Humane Society) and we'd have made a difference. I'm doing it without my wingman, now, but I'm doing it.
So, when days like the past few pile up and I feel like it's more than much too much, I'm learning to sit back, take a few deep breaths, and remember that I am, in fact, here to complain about it.
For those of you hoping to find a second installment of Ashleigh in CarLand, consider this the preface. I did the whole thing myself. It's exhausting... nothing else is accomplished... and I run on fumes. I'll have the weekend to regroup and Monday will bring your further tales from the automotive front.