Leland's journey

By -
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
those kids...
Those kids...when I think of that time in ICU, and that waiting room, I can see those kids, those tall lanky guys, the sweet, sweet girls...lining the hallway from the double doors by the elevators...up and down each side, watching us. Watching for any clue as to how Leland was...how bad, how good, just how...talking quietly among themselves, crosslegged on the floor... hunched over books... coming up to elaine for a hug and reassurance...that Elaine...how she has grown, she was just a small sweet girl when I first met her, now she's Leland's mom...and those kids just reached for her and she pulled her strength from them so many times, they just didn't know...they just waited...with us. Waiting for the door to open and Rene' to walk in laughing his ass off cuz he fooled us all...waiting for Leland to climb out of that bed and give that shy smile....waiting for it to not be true. Just not true.

So I went out and bought note books and sketch pads and pens and markers and pencils...and handed them out, up and down that line of kids...there had to be 20 or so at any one time there, in that hall...Elaine has those notebooks still...with the heart and guts and love and fear and tears all those kids could put in them, the favorite stories about their friends about times they had shared with their friends.... and helped them make it real...those times would not happen with these friends again.

They were at Rene's service as well...filling the church....everywhere you looked....I was there with Cody, Leland's brother and his Dad, Gary....my brother and Elaine at the hospital with Leland and the first of many CAT scans...overwhelming time...the old faith of those true Catholics, the love of that young son of theirs around us all, the grief so deep it stops your breath, the flow and grace of Latin and Spanish...and at graveside, his mom offers me her blessings you're leland's aunt, I knew it.. he has your eyes i'm praying so hard for him we can't lose them both... and we stood by her son's casket.

she prayed for us.

we buried her son.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Boomer's at the Bridge Repost Aug 2007 Blog

By -
Image
Boomer’s at the bridge... Looking back, I'm amazed by how well he hid his blindness...I knew he was losing his sight, the glaucoma was obvious. But he knew this house so well, he could walk anywhere surefooted. I came home from work on Sunday night...he was on the big shag rug he loved by my desk...and I bent to give him his pet...he was sound asleep..he woke...and he had no idea where he was, he was so disoriented, stood up...waiting. So I reached over and typed the keyboard...he knew where he was, gave him a sound que.. and he turned to go to the door to go outdoors. His hips were gone, the pain meds were a necessity, the pain meds tore up his stomach, causing more pain...it was time. Even in his pain, if I so much a choked up as I faced this final stage of our time together, he would rise and come to me. It's okay, I'm here. I going to take care of you. But this time it was time for me to take care of him. I'm going to fix this, Boomer. He slept that night in a pile
Read more

It's You.

By -
No, I'm not an angry person—I'm just a good and loving person who is really pissed off at the lack of goodness and love I see in the place I call home. I'm an otherwise joyful human being who's finding it difficult to fathom how hard some people work to damage other human beings, and this has tempered my joy greatly. No, I'm not hateful—I just despise bigots, racists, religious hypocrites, and powerful people who prey on vulnerable human beings. If I seem angry to you, you may be one of those people—or you may be one of the people silent right now.Either way, that's a you problem. You can call me angry if it helps you feel better about your discomfort over my outspokenness, or if it keeps you from dealing with your apathy. I'm actually really good. John Pavlovitz July 2019
Read more

Pandemic

By -
I’m reading posts about tears right now. Crying jags, people worry...and I know it’s overwhelming. As a military parent, I am horribly reminded of the time my son was deployed to a war zone. That feeling that someone one wants to kill my child because of who he is, the flag on his shoulder, our support group has discussed this horror in great depth….and compared it to how our black mothers must feel every time their child walks out of the door right here in the USA.  Or to the parent sitting by the bedside of a gravely ill child...... I t’s beyond overwhelming. Every part of a mother’s being is geared to taking care of that kid, protecting that child, loving that boy or girl...who is now an adult and now, in our case, totally under the command of Ma Navy.  Helpless doesn’t describe it. Fear isn’t a big enough word. Crying is everyday….The difference with today and living through this pandemic and being that military mom is that we can’t tell one another to get up in the
Read more