I've noticed that I don't mind the hands or feet part cause it keeps me busy, but this business of seeing~
and more to the point feeling
*sigh*Sometimes I wish I didn't.
It can hurt... much... to feel.
I grieve the loss of a man I've never met, but whose words I've read and been refreshed by often. He is accused of something detestable, and chose in desperation to end his own life. This sure makes the accusation look formidable... why would he take such measures if it wasn't? But I have no intention of believing it until I have to... innocent until proven guilty, right? or because it would tarnish the life of a man I respected?
Still suicide cuts deep into a wound I never expected would feel so fresh after so long.
It hurts. much.
Tony would have had a birthday this month. His 34th I believe. It's hard to believe that it will be 6 years in October, but my mile-marker Pumpkin never lets me forget the passage of time. She was one month old exactly. How I have wished that didn't correlate! How I really should be more thankful we had her to keep us moving forward through our grief ~because we had no other choice!
I am praying for the families involved, and shedding tears. I have to remember that this pain I have (which is so incomparable to the family's) is a blessing to remind me to lift them up.