...for lack of what is found there.

When my mom had her heart attack, I didn't cry. I might have shed a few tears along the way, when I thought about the enormity of what had happened, but overall, I handled the situation with ease. Even as she was being whisked out of the doctor's office and to the hospital, I remained calm. I just kept thinking...she will be fine.

How would I have handled it if she didn't make it?

Would I have brushed it aside with a thought about how she was in a better place? Would I have turned numb? Would I have crumbled under the pressure? Would I have gotten angry?

I cried when Dumbledore died.

What kind of twisted mind must I have? I didn't cry when my mom almost died, but I often cry because of fictional characters.

I was told a long time ago that I should never apologize for the blessings in my life. I should simply use them for the glory of God. I wrote awhile back that I don't handle loss well, but I was speaking entirely on a selfish and personal level. I don't like losing. I actually wasn't talking about losing people. What would I become if my life's tragedies were actually tragic? I am already a selfish and prideful person. How would I handle it if my mom's heart attack became death? If my leak became a flood?

You can't prepare yourself for moments like those. We all have the "it won't happen to me" mindset or we would perpetually live in fear, but what if I have swung so far in the "what's meant to be will be" mindset that I have lost a bit of my humanity? Of my empathy?

Perry Meridian lost a student late last night. I didn't know this student well, but I know his mom. She is one of my mom's dearest friends. When I found out what happened, I didn't know how to react, but my instincts rose from the depths of my gut.

Pretend it's all fine. Move on. Live.

I am masterful at compartmentalizing. At times I wear my heart on my sleeves, but for the most part, I am where I am. I am not hiding anything when I laugh with people and then go home to a grandmother who is slowly losing her mind. I am not hiding the truth when I am excited for my students to watch my play just hours after sitting with my mom as she tried to figure out how to help her friend in need. Somehow, I am built for moving on.

I can't even imagine the pain that Sonja must feel right now. I can't fathom what it would be like to lose a child. I don't know how she will breathe. I don't know how she will be able to let her daughter keep living when there is so much risk around every corner. I can't understand the debilitating pain.

I am so scared of the day when I might have to face that.
I am more scared that I might breathe just fine, no struggle at all. Somehow, that seems worse to me.