I believe in God, The Father, Maker of Heaven and Earth.
I believe in Jesus Christ, the only Son of God.
I believe in the Holy Ghost.
I believe in the resurrection of the body and life everlasting and the forgiveness of sins.
But there are many days in the last two years I have felt very alone. Tragedy forms a bond with others that have experienced similar paths. Support groups are an example of how people relate and heal from gathering because of a common idiosyncracies. Indeed I have found myself talking to many people who probably I would not have before except now we have this brand in common: we have a marriage in our past that failed. And in the beginning I went with my mom to a support group for caregivers of people with Alzheimer’s. But it took place on Tuesday evenings and the kids need me in the evenings. Asking for that time away seemed greedy since I was already taking so much away by taking dad to doctor’s appointments and classes, we would eat at their house some evenings and go over on the weekends when I wasn’t working. I would get calls after I dropped him off and usually several more before bedtime.
I have co-workers with parents that are failing. One co-worker lost her father to Alzheimer’s this fall. We would talk occasionally and trade stories of silly behavior or exhaustion. It does help to tell people; that is why I write. I have another co-worker that is caring for her parents that are both losing their memories at different levels after taking care of her father-in-law for years. We all talk about our stories, but the stories are different. How can anyone else understand how it feels to be caring for both parents as they forget every day things? And how can anyone else understand how it feels to watch your dad disappear so young while you are asked to rebuild your life?
In the divorce agreement neither of us can move from Blue Springs, Mo, and keep joint custody. So until Truman graduates from high school, I will live here. I have aunts and uncles that live in Independence, Mo, but my sisters and mom live north in Parkville 45 minutes away. I chose to stop talking to the cousin that introduced me to David when I found out she knew I was getting divorced before I did. Most of my friends that live near me were David’s friends.
When I have something heavy to carry or need someone to watch the kids, I don’t have anyone except David. This has made it difficult to finish the moving process. It has made 12 hour shifts difficult. I had to call my mom at 11 o’clock last night because I was called to come into work and I already knew he was unavailable. I had called to see if he could go to my house because I had to stay after work and the kids hadn’t ate yet but he was already out with friends.
When I was first so crushed by David’s announcement, my good friend told me to remember the story of “The Footprints in the Sand.” I had told her once how it brought me comfort. She would often text me during difficult days to feel God holding me.
Today, I don’t feel that Hand holding me. I am often angry about the disease or others things, and I question Him. I don’t feel I deserve His love. I will ask Him to help my patients, my friends and family. But I don’t feel I deserve to ask Him to help me.
There is only one set of footprints in the sand right now. I don’t have family that can help me: my mom is overwhelmed by her own grief, Beth is angry with me and Nancy has a new granddaughter and a full plate of her own. Besides they live too far away. I am too much for David to bear. He is moving on. I have lost the right to ask for God’s help, and besides He can’t carry furniture.
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