Where did the time go? It was just yesterday that I was in Grad school, working 3 part-time jobs and teaching. Living and loving my life and friends with great intensity, at break neck speeds. Time was measured in semesters and the length of school breaks.

Having survived cancer at age 25 many years before, I lived life with a drive and eagerness known only to cancer survivors. I remember cleary the excitement I felt the semester I was cleared to go back to school. I decided that no matter what, I would not have any regrets about school or life in general. I planned my life so that I could go to college full-time and have "the full experience", as my friends used to call it. I became very involved, joining one of the top sororities on campus, then later becoming student government president for 2 terms. The list of things I accomplished, as if time were running out, were endless. I was living faster and harder than Lance Armstrong.

During that time, my friends were my stability. they were there during all the highÂ’s and lows of my emotional and financial life. I would never have made it without there help and support. During every joyous moment and accomplishment in my life, they were there. During every major disappointment and crisis, they were there.

Last night, while I sat in the emergency room with my son, waiting for the results of his X-rays to come back, I missed them very intensely. How I wished that a few of them had survived. Last night, I believed I would feel less isolated if at least 1 or 2 of them had made it. Who knows, maybe IÂ’m just kidding myself. But there were a couple of anxious moments last night that I would have given anything to be able to talk to one of them on the phone, or to have at least looked forward to receiving one reassuring hug.

So the dream gone, I focused on being comfortably numb, in order to be there for my 4 year old son.

Hearning my son was OK was a relief; but I still missed them. After I put my little angel to bed, the void felt more intense. It always does after a crisis. Curling up in bed with the cell phone next to me, I hoped that the phone would still ring, just as I did for many nights right after 9/11. I did so in the hope that a miracle would happen, that I would hear one of their voices calling me peanut, shortstop, or doll face.

Eventually, the tears faded and were followed by the comfort of silence found in the pre-dawn hours. That time of night always provides my spirit with the solace it so desperately needs. The silence being the resting place for all my prayers of hope. Prayers for souls departed, and for some new dear ones fighting the good fight overseas. They are all I have now. They are my only hope for a safer, better and brighter tomorrow. May God bless and protect them all!

Posted by: Michele at 01:31 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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