Wishing i could DO something

Well last night had one of those moments that completely stopped me in my tracks and made me re-evaluate.

When Molly and I were kids we were in a playgroup, now mind you our playgroup was special, we didn't disband when we headed off to elementary school. no we still have reunions every so often when everyone's home. and When I planned my mom's suprise party i knew they were the first people she'd want there. they come to everyone's graduation parties, and bridal showers, and baby showers, and all those other life landmarks. That said one of the five playgroup mom's was Joan Porco. Yesturday afternoon Joan was found in her bedroom brutaly beaten, her husband down stairs murdered. So far police have named no suspects, and thankfully do not seem to be backing up the rumors that Chris Porco, in playgroup a year younger than me, did it. Joan was one of the sweetest, gentelest people. She had a quiet voice, delicate features, and an all around gentle presence. I cannot get my head around why anyone would do this to her. or her husband.

After talking with my mom this morning, it looks like Joan has a decent chance of recovery. But will she ever be the same? They told her family that she will most likely lose one eye, and most of the attack seems to have been taken by her face and head. She'll require extensive plastic surgery, and even then the face we knew as Joan is probably gone forever.

As I thought and thought about this wonderfully gentle person laying for twelve hours beaten to the point where she couldn't get help I couldn't stop myself crying. and crying. and crying. I imagined MY mother, and my father, I thought about losing all the increadibly important people in my life. I thought about how I don't say "i love you" enough to the people I love. and how even if it scares me, and I haven't known you that long it's OKAY for me to love. Even if love isn't returned, or fades, or is rejected, the point that I can love, and I can love fiercely is important. I think I need to say that.

Wishing i could DO something

Well last night had one of those moments that completely stopped me in my tracks and made me re-evaluate.

When Molly and I were kids we were in a playgroup, now mind you our playgroup was special, we didn't disband when we headed off to elementary school. no we still have reunions every so often when everyone's home. and When I planned my mom's suprise party i knew they were the first people she'd want there. they come to everyone's graduation parties, and bridal showers, and baby showers, and all those other life landmarks. That said one of the five playgroup mom's was Joan Porco. Yesturday afternoon Joan was found in her bedroom brutaly beaten, her husband down stairs murdered. So far police have named no suspects, and thankfully do not seem to be backing up the rumors that Chris Porco, in playgroup a year younger than me, did it. Joan was one of the sweetest, gentelest people. She had a quiet voice, delicate features, and an all around gentle presence. I cannot get my head around why anyone would do this to her. or her husband.

After talking with my mom this morning, it looks like Joan has a decent chance of recovery. But will she ever be the same? They told her family that she will most likely lose one eye, and most of the attack seems to have been taken by her face and head. She'll require extensive plastic surgery, and even then the face we knew as Joan is probably gone forever.

As I thought and thought about this wonderfully gentle person laying for twelve hours beaten to the point where she couldn't get help I couldn't stop myself crying. and crying. and crying. I imagined MY mother, and my father, I thought about losing all the increadibly important people in my life. I thought about how I don't say "i love you" enough to the people I love. and how even if it scares me, and I haven't known you that long it's OKAY for me to love. Even if love isn't returned, or fades, or is rejected, the point that I can love, and I can love fiercely is important. I think I need to say that.