You are likely asleep right now, dear heart. I hope that you are, at least -- one of us should have a chance to get some rest.
I should sleep myself, I know -- tomorrow will be brutal -- and yet. And yet. Was it only last week I was saying that I missed the days in which we were living at the tips of our toes, wands out, eyes in the back of our heads? I should know better by now than to wax nostalgic about people trying to kill me, I suppose.
I cannot believe that
It finally struck me, I suppose, a few minutes ago. Drinking a cup of coffee and wondering whether I would do better with a few hours' sleep, or if I should push through to morning on caffeine and stubbornness. I suppose there is a part of me that does not want to sleep, because if I do, then I will wake into a world where everything has changed utterly. Where He is no more, and we are left to hold the pieces. And hold the faith, as best we might, as imperfect as we might be, with nothing more than each other left to hold on to.
It does not feel real yet. I suppose I don't want it to.
And here we are, left floundering, His best and brightest -- or at least, certain of us -- scrabbling as best we might to seize what we can in terms of stability. Wondering, all the way, which of us can be trusted, without Him to put an end to our petty quarrels when they arise. (And yet, how much of that thinking is my nostalgia for the way things used to be? For in this past year, I have seen so many ways in which He is was no longer the consummate leader He was a decade ago. Or ways in which He decided that we were able to govern ourselves and no longer needed Him to dog our every step, and we failed Him.)
Did we fail Him? Or did He fail us? No -- of course we did; we would not be in these circumstances had we not. But I am left to wonder what we could have done differently, what we failed to do, what individual actions and choices led us to this moment. What else I could have done that would have prevented me from sitting here, in the middle of the night, staring at nothing and wondering what the world will look like tomorrow morning when the sun rises and the country finds out that alea iacta est.
I suppose it could be worse; I could have lived through tonight without the knowledge that no matter what should happen, I at least have the finest son a man could wish for to stand at my side and face the future with me.
And on that note, perhaps I will get a few hours of sleep after all. Wake me first thing in the morning, and we will make our lists of the thousands of details that must be attended to. And the world will go on, I suppose, no matter that everything has changed and nothing will ever be the same again.
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Private Message to Barty
Date: 2013-05-29 08:04 am (UTC)I should sleep myself, I know -- tomorrow will be brutal -- and yet. And yet. Was it only last week I was saying that I missed the days in which we were living at the tips of our toes, wands out, eyes in the back of our heads? I should know better by now than to wax nostalgic about people trying to kill me, I suppose.
I cannot believe thatIt finally struck me, I suppose, a few minutes ago. Drinking a cup of coffee and wondering whether I would do better with a few hours' sleep, or if I should push through to morning on caffeine and stubbornness. I suppose there is a part of me that does not want to sleep, because if I do, then I will wake into a world where everything has changed utterly. Where He is no more, and we are left to hold the pieces. And hold the faith, as best we might, as imperfect as we might be, with nothing more than each other left to hold on to.
It does not feel real yet. I suppose I don't want it to.
And here we are, left floundering, His best and brightest -- or at least, certain of us -- scrabbling as best we might to seize what we can in terms of stability. Wondering, all the way, which of us can be trusted, without Him to put an end to our petty quarrels when they arise. (And yet, how much of that thinking is my nostalgia for the way things used to be? For in this past year, I have seen so many ways in which He
iswas no longer the consummate leader He was a decade ago. Or ways in which He decided that we were able to govern ourselves and no longer needed Him to dog our every step, and we failed Him.)Did we fail Him?
Or did He fail us?No -- of course we did; we would not be in these circumstances had we not. But I am left to wonder what we could have done differently, what we failed to do, what individual actions and choices led us to this moment. What else I could have done that would have prevented me from sitting here, in the middle of the night, staring at nothing and wondering what the world will look like tomorrow morning when the sun rises and the country finds out that alea iacta est.I suppose it could be worse; I could have lived through tonight without the knowledge that no matter what should happen, I at least have the finest son a man could wish for to stand at my side and face the future with me.
And on that note, perhaps I will get a few hours of sleep after all. Wake me first thing in the morning, and we will make our lists of the thousands of details that must be attended to. And the world will go on, I suppose, no matter that everything has changed and nothing will ever be the same again.