Thursday, January 25, 2024

Rough Day

Hey Aaron, it's me again.

Today has been a bit rough. I didn't want to go to work, and I didn't really want to work once I got there, although it was okay once I started seeing people. 

Then I didn't want to come home. 

I guess I just didn't want to do or be or something...

No, I'm not needing an intervention; I just kinda feel numb. At least when I'm not angry. 

And you know, part of me is angry today.  

Somewhere recently I heard that 47 children in the US have died from influenza. Given the number of children, that's not very many. Except if one of those 47 is yours, in which case it's immeasurable, agonizing, and completely overwhelming.

Plus there's misinformation. I have no idea where all the news outlets are getting their information, but they're WRONG!! 

Articles put out a couple weeks ago talk about five people, two of them children under 18 having died in the past 30 days in Salt Lake County and none had been vaccinated.  I understand the need for vaccines, trust me, I do! And I understand it well enough that you absolutely DID get your vaccine! And yes, you still died. I have no idea if the others did or not, but I know my child DID! 

And that makes me angry!! Where does their information come from? Is it county specific? 'Cause you know, I somehow didn't realize that my child needed to make sure to get his vaccine in the county where he planned to die! Frankly, I didn't plan for him to die at all!! 

Oh, Aaron, my plan was for you to get better and come home. And you did get better, and you did go Home, but not the way I planned. I know that plan was better for you. I do. But my heart still hurts. My arms literally ache to hold you. And my memories overflow and stream down my face. 

Back when I was pregnant with you, before I knew that you were coming with something extra, I read The Book Thief. Narrated by Death, he refers to those he leaves behind as "leftovers." 

And now I'm a leftover with my own tattered heart.

“It’s the leftover humans. The survivors. . . .  I witness the ones who are left behind, crumbling among the jigsaw puzzle of realization, despair, and surprises. 
They have punctured hearts. They have beaten lungs.

Markus Zusak

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