Monday, April 6, 2009

Another surgery

The Man has to have one more surgery on his hand.
The fourth, in case you've lost count.
He's in pain and its necessary.
But this injury never ends.
It will be with us, in one form or another, all our lives.
When our daughter walks down the aisle.
When Our son hands us our first grandchild.
When our boy reaches out to shake his father's hand for the first time as an adult.
It will always be with us.
That will be the hand I hold when the end is there--be it his or mine.
That is the hand I reach for at night.
That is the hand that dries my tears, Wipes my babies noses, and steadies our baby as she walks.
That hand.
This accident.
One split second changed the face of our family's future.
We will always have a tacit reminder of the moment a man's carelessness cost The Man his fingers.
I can't looks at it without seeing the accident in my mind, and without being grateful.
Yes, the injury has marred our family. But one minute earlier, and I would be alone.
With my children.
No husband. No father. No partner.
No pain in my ass.
Just alone.
So I will pull on my big girl panties and put on a brave face once more. I will watch them wheel my husband into surgery and hold my breath until I'm with him again. I will hold tight to his connection to me and I will not let go.
I will not be alone.

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