I felt forgotten and forsaken.
but not by God.
never ever by Him.
My Richie took me in his arms.
and he said all the wrong things.
all the man things.
the fix you up things.
I arched my back at his attempts to "fix" my broken life,
then we both laughed out loud at our conventional marriage.
. . .
you are my happiest thought.
I don't mind that we're conventional.
In fact, I'm quite certain it's my very favorite thing about us.
. . .
I spent a considerable amount of time lying
face down on the couch.
just so you know.
I'm really not sure what the kids were doing.
probably trying to kill each other on the trampoline?
I lay there, and I wished the day would wind it self to a close
and that I could just wake up, in clean sheets, and it'd be tomorrow.
fix the dinner.
put the kids to bed.
fold the laundry.
do the dishes.
answer the emails.
. . .
my heart felt like it was going to EXPLODE
with complete and utter overwhelm.
then, without a word, I got the keys.
kissed the man child.
kissed the crazies.
and I drove.
to the church parking lot.
I pulled into a stall.
and. . .
and I opened my email. . .???
of alllllllll the things in allllllllll the universe to do,
THIS is what popped into my brain.
and I read.
cried and cried and cried.
and suddenly, I no longer felt all alone.
Bill (from Heaven knows where),
thank you, for being willing to be "foolish" (bill's word, not mine).
your words spoke directly to tonight's broken soul.
and because of your example,
I will forever reach out better, more often, more completely.
I somehow stumbled onto your blog searching for photo stuff (I am an amateur photographer) and felt compelled to drop you a note. I read that you lost your young baby, I am so sorry you and your family have to go through this.
Please allow me to ramble for a moment. I was orphaned as a boy and it affected me deeply. Fast forward into adulthood and my wife lost our first baby. Then we had a healthy one and then had our youngest who was very sick and on a ventilator for years and tube fed and horribly sick and frail with many neurological issues, just last night I was going through old photos and I came across some pictures of our youngest that a local lady photographer did for us, and I remembered the first time I saw those pictures. Our little girl was so sick and I remember looking at her for the first time as just a pretty little baby. Somehow the photographer had captured her so perfectly and it truly changed the way I looked at her. No machines or nurses or medicines, just my baby. Maybe we were going to be a "normal" family someday.
So what does this have to do with you? I don't know other than you are a female photographer of considerable talent and you are obviously still coping with your incredible loss. But I am sure that somewhere a father or mother, son, daughter or maybe just a friend looked at one of your photos and smiled today. And maybe you helped someone look at a loved one in a little different, sweeter light. And that is an amazing gift!!!
My little one is almost ten now and off all of the machines. She's funny and smart and still has those same beautiful eyes that I first noticed in a picture. As I read your amazingly open and painful blog through tears I remembered the fear and pain and loneliness of my parents deaths and my wife's sense of loss after her miscarriage, and the anger and helplessness of my youngest illness. And then I think there is no such thing as a coincidence, I almost always had a sense of someone or something comforting me in my worst times. Sometimes a stranger would stop and chat with me, A friend may call unexpectedly. So as I get older and become more open to making a fool of myself, I can tell you that an unknown stranger is thinking of you and your loss and your gift of amazing portraits that you give to families touching them for years to come.