An Angry Voice and A Soft Voice

     I never understood it. How someone can put a number on someone else's head. It has to be like putting a price on something you love most dearly, but even harder than that. It has to be impossible. But it's not impossible, because they do it all the time--doctors I mean. Nurses probably do it too, maybe not to one's face, but to colleagues. Now don't get the word possible mistaken for the word easy, because that is simply not what I am saying. It is not easy--It would only be easy for sadists and the devil himself. It is probably the hardest job in the world. There is a lot of pressure behind putting a number on someones head. A whole family, maybe even more, worth of pressure. Those words that the doctor gives--that sentence--holds more weight than anything in this world can even begin comprehend. So no, it is most definitely not easy; but it is completely and utterly possible.

    I am currently wandering around in a zombie state. Since yesterday I have been constantly trying to snuff how I feel--wondering if what I am feeling is okay. Because how can it be okay when someone I love must be feeling so much worse. How is there room for me to be sad when I know she is allowed to be sad for the whole world. Even if my only sadness is the sadness of losing her, how selfish it is of me to not hold myself together just enough for her; for her son, for her brothers and sisters, for our family.

    The other part of me is telling me that it is okay, that this is gods gift to me to have this time to grieve, and grieve with her. To walk her to the finish line, prepare her to see all the ones she has loved that have already crossed it. To say goodbye.

    GOD. I AM SO ANGRY WITH YOU. 

    I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF I BELIEVE IN YOU.

    BUT I AM ANGRY.

    How dare he take her this way? I understand that she is all that is good encompassed in one thing that is whole and that is living. And I understand that there was never meant to be a place on earth for the angel that is her. But, how dare he not take her in the night. How dare he give her everything that is hard and cold and make her make a life out of it--just to take it away.

    I went to a McDonalds today and had a realization. There was a tone to my voice that no one else would be able to hear but me. It was a tone of softness when I spoke to the man who took my order and cashed me out. It was a tone I had never heard before, a tone I don't think I would have ever heard if it wasn't for all of this. It was her tone. The tone of someone who is in pain, but yet has a ready heart to give to the nearest person who needs it. 

    I hope that tone stays with me...even when she is gone...