After my post about Preslee, I'm not sure how to write again. I want to write something significant and touching, but the hole in my heart is like the hole a pebble makes when thrown into the sea, while the holes in the hearts of those who knew Preslee more personally must feel like the hole in the New York skyline after the twin towers fell. And I'm not sure how to deal with my little bit of grief, when it seems Preslee's relatives have so much more to deal with.
Every time I think of some exasperating story of motherhood, or what we've done this summer, I think of Ashley and Pat (her parents) and I think of Alisha and Dustin (my sister and brother-in-law, Preslee's aunt and uncle). And I cry. Such a heart-wrenching trial for everyone who knew and loved Preslee.
When my Grandma H died, it was the first time someone I knew and loved died. I was in college and I remember sitting at a stoplight, confused and amazed that the light still went from red to green. My world felt like it shifted and stopped, but the world around me continued to move and function. Cruel, cruel world. But I also know that the world can be kind. The response to the Sullengers' tragedy has been amazing!
My writing has taken a small moment of silence. I wish I could write a song like this, or even a poem for them, but I can't seem to find anything except prayers. My prayers and thoughts are still with them. And while the summer is moving on, and I still get exasperated and write trivial things, I am trying to whine a little less and love a little more.