I don’t understand, today. I don’t know what it’s like to live in a waiting room. My sister told me when I exited the car at the hospital, I left a bloody footprint. She’s been holding on to this knowledge, and I didn’t know. Do any of us want to know?
I feel more attuned now, to tragedy. It’s easier to recognize. I know there are things I should say. I should be present and strong. I would never ask someone in tragedy to be strong. It should be my job now.
But she’s hurting, and I realize I still don’t know what to say. She’s hurting right now, and all I have is: I’m here.
Is that enough? I know, from experience, nothing’s ever really enough.
I’m thinking about you
I hope he makes it. He pulls through. He’s okay
I’m here. I’m always here
