Suspended State of Disbelief
Those of us who've hit an emotional or physical bottom know the exact texture, smell and feel of our faces, knees and tender bits scraping across the ground, sharp broken objects, course and scratchy sand. Those of us who have survived know the feeling of being lifted or dragged back through a surface where we could once again gasp for air. But who pulled us up? God? Physics? Ourselves? A lifeguard with a firm, strong hand?
I’ve had a few physical, emotional, and spiritual bottoms over the years. Each experience that hasn’t killed me has made me a better swimmer. But not necessarily strong enough to reach in and pull someone else up from drowning. People in my inner circle that I love dearly with whole entire body parts that would be severed and bloody without them are staring in the face of death on a daily basis right now, today.
Through the mutiny of the body or the mind, cells gone to anarchy in the lungs or the blood or the belly or the brain. I wish I could throw myself down like a cape across the mud so my dear ones could walk safely back to shore but it’s more like an ocean or quicksand than a puddle and my body is not expendable like a cape. I can only offer company, coffee, hugs. I can sit vigil and pray through the suspended state of disbelief that they too will be lifted or the bottom will open so they can fall with grace.