Words Like Daggers: Santa Cruz 2012

One morning in June someone says some terribly wrong things. Try as I might to overlook, forget, forgive, pretend it never happened these statements become impossible to erase.

The pink elephant in the room.

What is said is about a defenseless child with a devastating diagnosis. 

A child who has daily debilitating seizures yet by some unseen miraculous force, she persists. A child who has been riding the roller coaster of severe epilepsy since the tiny age of five months. An ongoing tumultuous ride with ups and downs, twists and turns, despair and surprises. 

A child who was prescribed and has been under the influence of barbiturates and benzodiazepines. A child who experienced tolerance and underwent withdrawal of these drugs. A child who developed way beyond prognosis but has lost almost all of her skill-set to seizures, drug tolerance and withdrawal syndromes. 

My child.

"Leave Her Alone. Her Life Force is Leaving. She Is Dying."  

The words are spoken after I attempt to parent my child's standoffish behavior toward said person. 

"Leave Her Alone. Her Life Force is Leaving. She Is Dying." 

I wish I could just apply the old "sticks and stones" adage here but every attempt leaves me more and more hollow. 

"Leave Her Alone. Her Life Force is Leaving. She Is Dying."

Had the words come from a stranger maybe it wouldn't be an issue today. But it was no stranger who said this. It was kin. And that makes it especially hard to forget after all this time. And even though an apology comes two years after the fact it still feels inexcusable. 

"Leave Her Alone. Her Life Force is Leaving. She Is Dying."

Words like daggers. 

Writing a short blog piece on it in the hopes of processing this further has been on my mind for a very long while. I grappled with how I would share this, who will relate and who might be affronted by it. 

Well I don't know how to get past it when everyone pretends it never happened. But I know it did happen and I know it still hurts. 

I could end here with a soapbox rant now on how amazing and strong my Delilah is but I won't. I have quickly learned what an exceptional gift from God my daughter is. I can only hope that some day others will soften their hearts and realize this as well.