People say the damnedest things to you when they see that you're missing a limb.
"You're handling it so well!" I am told, often.
"Yeah, well, it's not like it's the worst thing that can happen to a person, especially the way I did it, all carefully planned out and under anaesthesia in a nice, clean suburban hospital. There are a lot worse things that can happen to a person."
"I suppose," is the often doubtful-sounding frequent reply.
"Like losing a child. I really think losing a child is just about the worst thing that can happen to anybody."
At this point, the other person will usually agree and get very, very quiet, or begin to tell me about someone s/he knows who...
...and never ever got over it, not really. 'Cause you don't.
I just want to point out what keeps hitting me in the heart as I listen to the radio up here in my studio aerie today, nursing a light cold, drinking soup, and spoiling my old cat, that on this day five years ago, a lot of people lost both children and limbs. I would also like to point out another thing that keeps occurring to me, that the chances are that somewhere in the world -- maybe in Afghanistan, maybe in Iraq, probably somewhere in Africa for sure -- someone else has lost both a child and a limb, possibly more than one of either or both, today.
Look around you. Do you see someone you love, maybe more than one person? Tell them. The saddest thing I ever hear is "I never got a chance to say --"
You're here, now. So say it.
(I know you didn't really need me to tell you this.)
A friend who did lose a child said she wanted to kill people who said things like, "Now you have your own angel in heaven," or "God must have loved her so much. He wanted her back."
p.s. I'm so mad at blogger for denying me the pleasure of your long comments. It really is a very fickle system.
Posted by: patry | September 20, 2006 at 01:16 AM
Don'tcha just want to smack people like that? Don't get me started.
You have, however, given me a deliciously evil idea. Thank you! Maybe when people ask me what happened to my leg, instead of whipping out the "Leg Story: $10" button I bought from Bonnie's store, I'll just tell them, "God loved it so much he wanted it back."
(mwa ha ha)
Blogger seems to have healed itself (unless it broke again since yesterday), but my cat is dying, and I am nursing him. Sometimes little Furry Lewis wants to be taken somewhere in the house that he's just not strong enough to get to comfortably on his own, and sometimes he wants my company while he lies on the bed or on the sofa or in the sunny dining area window overlooking the bird feeder. At times like these I am away from the computer. When he wants to be alone in my studio, when he doesn't want me to sit with him and pet him but just wants to doze by himself on the carpet under my drawing board, if I'm not reading a book or taking the opportunity to sneak off to another room and clean something for a few minutes, I'm hanging out on my computer. This way I can be close by if he wants something yet not intrude on his privacy. (I know this must sound ridiculous to "normal" people, but this is an extraordinary cat and we have an extraordinary relationship with him.) At some point during one of these spells, I shall no doubt wend my way to your place and fill your comments with all sorts of half-crazed ramblings, never fear.
I've already dropped by a couple of times in the last few days, but then found my attentions were needed elsewhere. I'm very happy to see that you've been quite prolific. I was also very happy to notice that you've posted beautiful new work at Waitress Poems.
Most excellent. The world can always use more Patry.
Posted by: Sara | September 20, 2006 at 12:36 PM