Writing Life

Writing Life: Chaos of Life

Hello everyone! I’m sorry that I haven’t posted earlier today. In the future, there might be more disturbance to the usual schedule as I will be helping my sister with her sick son. I try to keep my schedule, but family comes first.

Lately, I have been writing a lot about luck and misfortune, how you never know what life brings, and the random chaotic life of ours brought a bucket full of misfortune to my sister’s family. Not only they discovered their eleven-year-old son has cancer, but the baby she is waiting for has heart disease. They both will be treated at the same time. It is so easy to write about life on an intellectual level (not that my life has been a smooth sail to happiness; it is a constant struggle, but what my sister is going through is something entirely different from some existential crises or failing after graduating or other family packages and your normal pain of being here) than to see it happening right there next to you. I have written a lot about control and our reactions to any given situation. That we cannot control what life throws at us, but we can control how we react. While I still think that holds true, those are not very comforting ideas when you watch someone to suffer (or when you suffer.) All I want to do is conjure away my godchild’s illness and see him run again and be as lively as he is and not see him full of tubes coming out of his chest. But life doesn’t work that way, even how much we wish that to be true.

I can always escape the truth of the situation by going into the woods or hiding under my table, but M (my sister’s kid) or his family cannot. They are stuck in the hospital, in a constant state of uncertainty. There seem to be no words against unfairness. And I’m not sure if you would call what is happening unfairness as no one is doing this to them, but it feels a lot like a deliberate action. That is the thing. It is hard to keep believing that this is just the normal variation of life, that someone will not beat the statistics, that you can only hope it is not you. It would be some much easier if there was someone to blame. But back to those words, I guess we have made to believe there can be such things as perfect words of solace, but I think that is just the movie and book nonsense. Yes, there can be words that ease the pain and sympathize with the sufferer, but there are no magic words that will make this kind of situation go away. I wish there would be. It would be critting powerful mojo.

All this makes me wonder how you can go on when there seems to be no hope, or there is too much to handle? M seems to handle this better than the adults around him. He is living at this moment. Not that it is nice. Not that he likes the constant invasive examinations. But he has trust in the future and into his parents, and he accepts that there is no other choice than to go through. This eleven-year-old boy has more courage to face the facts than some of us with our minor issues and accept the situation as it is without giving up. Maybe it is the trust and the support of his family that is the key. M’s mother and father haven’t left his side. They are there, loving him.  And there is nothing like a love of a good parent or someone close to you.

Thank you for reading!

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