Julia was home for a final, I hope, day of school closing. Nothing is resolved politically -- it is a stand off with both sides standing way too firm. I have to admit to feeling nothing but depressed. The wonderful political action that has gone on in the last week is invigorating and inspiring, but marching and rallies don't change much in reality. I keep wondering whether all those who are at the capital voted in the last election? That may be cynical. I hate to see this governor get his way. It will go far to really ruin this progressive state. I think that it also will send a very powerful message to the rest of the USA -- we can defeat the liberals in Wisconsin, and you can do it in your state. In some newspaper article, I read that Walker was emailing Mitch Daniels, governor of Indiana. This does not please me at all.
Julia is showing the very normal kid signs right now of wanting to never return to school I don't want to read books, she tells me. I don't want to do hard math work. The fact that we have been doing it at home together, and with her therapists, doesn't seem to register. I think she will be fine tomorrow when it is bus time.
Tonight, I feel the wind knocked out of me. Late last week, in one of the many odd circumstances I find myself in, I told a perfect stranger about the circumstances of my life in order to get information from her. The next day I sent her an email thanks for her information and she responded with some harsh judgments about my life and an opinion which I had not asked for. The details do not matter here. I was taken aback, generally offended. (not that her criticism mattered). But the fact that someone, and a stranger at that, could shake me, even momentarily, from a course that I know is correct bothers me.
I am not strong. Not strong alone. The strength I've known and enjoyed was built after David and I started our relationship. I forget that I have lost some of my source of strength. I have not yet found the source squarely inside myself. I will need that grounding inside to live the adventure that I expect.
And then I look at the calendar and realize that next week is the anniversary of David's transplant. Well, no wonder I feel a bit beat up. We had a feeling that morning when the phone rang before dawn that we were going to do it! We were going to beat David's bad heart! We were going to have a very long time together. This feeling of loss is not grief -- maybe a part of it, but not weepy and weak. It is grave disappointment, like losing the perfect plan. We have been artists. We lost lots of times -- book deals, parts, movie deals, perfect jobs, dream schools, perfect houses, miscarriage, infertility, a referral. Lots of loss. The difference here is that I don't have David to move on with. And so this loss, the terrific chance we took to beat David's congenitally bad heart, stings. And stings longer than all those other losses.
A friend in Ohio reminds me that her daffodils are 2 inches high. There is some lovely news for a gardener.