She couldn’t catch her breath.
“This is what a panic attack feels like!” her mind echoed in her silence.
All the noises around her; but, she couldn’t hear.
Only the presence of her outraged core had her attention.
Not a single person held space with empathy.
Very few extended condolences, cold, shallow and obligatory of course.
She was outragged. All the judgemental eyes looked in her direction.
He didn’t want her there. It wasn’t “their” kind of place! She felt that, every single minute that passed.
Even after life, he spoke right to her truth.
The service started. She hid in the back, afraid she’d make a scene she couldn’t take back.
Mumbled and muffled, the Pastor was saying things… But she didn’t listen.
She couldn’t hear past the anger she carried!
Then, in a few slip seconds, she heard
“He was a brother and a Son”.
And she snapped! It took every fiber of her being
From interrupting everyone’s “grieving”… And speak her damn mind.
She knew the baby needed more of her though.
She knew they hurt… And she was hurt.
She knew she didn’t HAVE to stay.
She knew no one would care if she left.
So she gathered her things, said her goodbyes,
Whispers and shit circled the rumor mill..
But she didn’t care. The ONLY person that mattered was 18 months old.
What hallowed the hearts of people that day wasn’t grief… It was guilt. When we don’t understand, and it creates pain…
We carelessly search for someone to blame.
Compassion is a thing… Good throughout every year. Let’s use it often as possible. We never know what one is going through.
Until next time,