To my Anonymous Commenter
Wow, it's been busy! It makes me sad when I neglect the blog but sometimes, life gets moving too fast to talk about it too much. I have a few posts brewing but when I signed in tonight, I saw there was a comment here that needed moderating.
I read it and it took my breath away. I was stunned and reread it several times to make sure I was reading it correctly. It hurt. Still hurts.
Of course my first instinct was to delete it.
I don't get many hateful comments but every once in awhile I get one that stings a little. This did more than sting.
However, rather than deleting it, I decided to address it, if for no other reason than to allow myself to let it go. I have a tendency to hang on to things like this and it's not healthy.
First I'd like to explain that the purpose of this blog is to document my life and the lives of my children and husband. It started it when I realized that their baby books were being terribly neglected.
Over the years it's become a hybrid of a personal journal, family album, and baby book. It's also a public forum. It's a place where I've met some really great people and heard from some interesting ones as well.
I've shared my thoughts, my prayers, my dreams, and my faults (okay, not so heavily on my faults – I am human after all). So mostly, these pages are me.
What it isn't is a place where I air other people's dreams, thoughts or struggles. When personal things happen to my family members, I don't talk about them here unless I have their express permission. When my dad had his surgery, he asked me to take pictures, but when I asked him if I could write about it here, he wanted to think about it. I didn't push. I waited for him to let me know. I'm grateful he did.
However, there are other things that happen in the lives of the people I love that greatly affect me that I don't write about. Sometimes, writing about how someone else's pain affects me, is not the best thing for the other person...even though it may be cathartic for me.
In this case, I’m not free to talk about the specifics of the situation. I could tell you how I spent the better part of that day at the hospital with him – brought him his car, wallet and some water. I could tell you how I raced down to the cafeteria to get him some food before it closed and then made dinner to bring to him when they got home that night. I made them dinner the following night as well.
I could tell you how I spent the better part of an hour on the phone with him crying and consoling him after he heard the news. I could let you know that after about five hours of sleep, I got up before dawn in the cold weather so that I could make it down to the course to cheer them both on and encourage them in anyway I could that day. I could tell you about the people I contacted after the race (with his permission) so that they could pray for them. I could explain how I walked home from that flash mob with one of his best friends while we prayed for him together.
Anyone who knows me or reads this blog knows about the love I have for my brothers. They are my best friends. I would do anything for them and I think they know that. We tell each other how much we love each other on a regular basis. We have each other’s backs. When we are in pain, when we are crying, we lean on each other. Family is everything to us.
Please know, oh anonymous commenter, that I did not write about my brother’s pain out of respect for him, not because I was ignoring it. I am sure he would agree and that’s good enough for me.