I Need to Write a Note

18 04 2011

On Friday I received an email.

I need to write a note.

A small group of women provide outreach on behalf of the Preeclampsia Foundation. I’m one of those women, and we write notes. The recipients of the notes come in different ways—women call the Foundation office looking for support, loving friends send a contribution in memory of a lost child.

It’s just a note.

“A couple just lost their daughter…” begins the email, and I feel a burning in the back of my eyes, but I push it back.

I need to write a note.

I go to the store and buy blank notecards.

Words on paper.

The next day I go to a different store and spend six dollars I don’t have on a card this couple won’t remember. It is also blank, because the greeting card industry has yet to make a card that adequately conveys the sentiment, “I’m sorry your baby died.”

I need to write a note.

I think about the cards I received when I lost Maggie. What did people write? It was over ten years ago and I can’t remember anymore.

I don’t know what to say.

I’m afraid to write on the pretty six-dollar card, because nothing sounds right in my head. All the words are trite and soulless.

I wonder if it will make a difference, this card from a stranger who knows the pain but still can’t figure out what to write.

I need to write a note.

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One of Those Days

12 02 2011

So I crawl underneath my blanket
Where I can hide away
I know I can’t take it anymore
‘Cause I see now
It’s just one of those days
~ Joshua Radin

I’d like to take a mulligan on the last 36 hours. Can one of you arrange that for me? It’d be lovely.

My soul hurts tonight. It’s not my usual depression, and it’s not one or two things I can blog about and get out of my system. There are a few contributing factors and I suspect I just need to soldier through like people do. This is how normal people feel when they are sad, right? You feel blue. Not suicidal, not despondent…just melancholy. Your heart aches. You suspect before long it’ll pass.

Is that what it’s like?

Yesterday I ran into an old friend. I’ll call this friend J. J was a close friend—a mentor, a confidante, someone I looked forward to seeing. As often seems to happen in adulthood, the circumstances that brought J and I together changed and we chatted less and less. We went from daily visits to weekly visits to chatting once a month—if even that.

When I saw J yesterday, my heart did a happy little somersault in my chest…until we started talking. It was as though J and I were never more than acquaintances who nodded across the street. We chatted for a bit and I left feeling empty and let down.

The adult in me oh-so-maturely says, “These things happen. People grow apart. Friendships take a lot of work, and you’re both very busy people with families.”

The little girl inside of me says, “I knew J would figure out there was something wrong with you. I’m just surprised it took J this long.”

I cling to my adult logic. I know people grow apart. But the brain is a funny thing, and emotions are awfully pesky.

My heart hurts.

It’s just one of those days.