Do I love them enough? Do I make every minute count enough? Is it even possible to do that? These are the questions that come to mind when I read about the wind of tragedies sweeping through the parent blogging community these past few days. When I read about these families, what kills me is how normal their lives were just days - just hours sometimes - before they were turned upside down.
You know, I get that life it fragile. I do. This stuff makes me full of this crazy panic to turn up the intensity - to somehow squeeze more something out of me that would make me able to soak up every minute. It makes me seethe inside at the memories of the times I have been angry or harsh, and pine over the hours lost when I was just too tired or too empty to be really with them even though we were sharing space.
What really gets me, what wedges this lump in my throat so solid that I want to spit rather than swallow it down, is knowing that some day in the near future, these feelings will fade and I will be back to life as usual. I will be back to squandering the moments and bruising the precious times with my own short-sighted nonsense.