Absorbing pain
My son's dog was run over today. Euphemisms don't cut it. She's DEAD. period. end of sentence.
We've been down this road before together, the mourning for his pet. This time it's different. He feels as a father who has lost his child. He raised her from a pup. He feels he didn't protect her well enough. His loss is deep. I feel his pain.
My daughter bears guilt heavy on her shoulders. She is the one who let Abby loose. It was an accident. She didn't mean to. She saw the car hit Abby at 65 mph. She was there. Try telling her she is not to blame. I feel her pain.
The people that hit Abby were crying by the side of the road when I came up to them. They feel the guilt of taking our dog away. I tell them they are blameless. It wasn't their fault our dog was poorly trained. I feel their pain
My other son is in denial. He runs off to play with friends to make him forget. He doesn't want to deal. He wants to be a kid and pretend that the world is a place where there is no hurt. We've been down this road before. In the night, he will weep and cry out in his sleep. I will feel his pain.
I sit here wondering how I will help my children. I need to be strong for them so they will heal. Life lessons are coming hard at a bad time. No time to dwell on my guilt or my blame in this. I will shift the weight of that baggage later. For now, I don't feel my pain.