List of Enemies

            Again, I find there were things I forgot in the rush of dog walking and teenage drama of the last few weeks.  One was my recent re-evaluation of, for lack of a better term, my list of enemies.

            I don’t want to have this list.  I haven’t actually written one out.  Still, I’m kind of mad at myself for even thinking of having it.  Most of the people on it are near strangers.  There’s the one wheelchair company representative who asked, right in front of Colin in the hospice, how much time he actually had anyways.  There was the festival of caregivers who showed up to our house, worked one night and then didn’t have the grace to tell us to our faces that they wouldn’t be returning.  Maybe I understand why they didn’t.  I probably would have taken it badly.  Then again, I could all too well understand not wanting to have to deal with the reality of a child dying in front of me.

            And then there are the people we actually knew.  Most of them are people who didn’t actually promise us a thing, but whom you kind of expected would still be there for us when the crush came.  Instead – and I admit, it’s all too understandable – were overwhelmed by the reality of the situation, so no longer had it in them to stop by the house or phone us or what-not.  What could they have asked?  “How’s it going?”  Man, back in 2019 you would have either gotten a monosyllabic grunt from me or I would have started talking and never shut up.  So, I understand on one level, but I can’t quite let it go.

            Shortly after Colin’s death, I bought Arcade Fire’s “Neon Bible” album.  On that album is the song “My Body is a Cage,” which makes me think way too much about Colin and there’s a line, “Just because you’ve forgotten, doesn’t mean you’re forgiven.”  I hold on to that line too much.  But there are people who now, three years out, greet me like nothing happened.  There’s none of this “remember that year or two where I avoided eye contact with you?”  There’s no mention of the promise to show up and help keep Emma and Noah busy, which was followed up by the person just never showing up.

            I still have this dream of tracking down the one caregiver, because I know approximately where he lives, and giving him a piece of my mind.  I won’t do it, but I still dream about it.  In the same vein, I’m trying to dance around the point that I recently ran into one of the people who promised to help and didn’t.  I don’t want to talk about the how and when, because I don’t want the person to be identified in any way.  But the point is, I came to realize I was going to see this person and I had a little mini quandary moment on my way to the gathering.  What do you say to a person who, the last time you saw them, told you they’d show up to help and then didn’t?  And it’s not like they promised to help you move apartments.  They promised to help you maintain a tiny shred of sanity in the midst of a terrible situation and then just didn’t show up.

            I sweated about it a lot.  There were a few scenarios where I just went nuts.  I didn’t, because that’s not me.  But also because I realize I have to let a lot of this go.  I would have given almost anything to get out of the situation back when I was in it.  How can I stay mad at someone who chose to stay away?  I mean, there will always be a difference, but I know a little about what anyone who had the choice had to go through.  The difference is that the five of us didn’t have a choice to go through it, knowing only four would emerge at the end.  The others did have a choice.  So, thanks if you stuck with us through it all and still are doing so.  If not, well, I understand a little.