Words

Sometimes when words fail me, someone else's words articulate my thoughts exactly, or what I hope to be my thoughts.

From sister-aunt Betsy: I’m still finding it impossible to believe in the neverness of not seeing Adam again.  It’s easier to just think he’s away and won’t have time to see us because of work or something.  Adam didn’t smile as much as the other kids—didn’t seem to “enjoy” things as much so when he was laughing, smiling, it meant so much more, but now I’m looking back wondering about that—was that genuine or meant to make us feel reassured?  I absolutely believe Tara’s message, but I wish we’d all been able to take some pieces of his pain and carry them for him so his burden wasn’t so great and unbearable.  I was so looking forward to when he figured things out for himself and moved confidently into the amazing life I believe he would have lived.  His life was already good, but I just knew there was so much more waiting for him.  I’m so sorry to be saying all this…I’m soooooooooooooooooooooo sad. 

From Rich, an old friend: I know it seems like you will never feel whole again right now, and that can lead to doubts and more questions. Just know that the love that still surrounds you is real, and nothing can take that from you.

From me: I think when Adam smiled or laughed it was real. He was not one to fake things. I know he was uncomfortable in certain situations, but I take solace in recent times (2015) when he spent time with mom and dad just talking, and they all raved about how nice it was. And the come to Jesus (I mean this figuratively) I had with him in October. Once he made himself do stuff, I think he was glad.


From Mary-Louise Parker via AARP Magazine: You don't have to fight for your story when you're writing.