Dealing with Sadness

Day 5. Five days of worry, grief, sadness and prayer. I have not prayed so much or so hard for anything in a long, long time. 5 very long days.

The three boys are still in the ICU, still on ventilators and still in comas. The words traumatic head injury makes me want to weep. Which I do, frequently.

I have been trying to hold tight to my own children. Their bickering annoys me less then it did. I am hugging more. Touching more. Kissing more. I am so, so grateful that they are here, safe and sound and whole.

I have been trying to take comfort in the simple tasks of our household routine. The cooking. The cleaning. The endless picking up of the house. Each of those task becomes a prayer. A prayer that my friend will be doing the same in the near future. With all of her children bickering around her.

This week has worn me down. We hold sadness in our hearts and in our bones; after a time it begins to dull the spirit. Yet, I also feel strangely manic. I want to dance until sweat is pouring down my body and my feet hurt. I want to go running and run and run and run until there is no breath left in my body. I want to make love for an age; to get lost in the physical sensations of two bodies touching. I want to sleep.

Keep praying. For Margaret. For Henry. For Phineas. For Lincoln.