Days Like This

Some things we do because we want to, and other because we know we must. That we have moral and ethical obligations to do so. That if we don’t do them, no one else will. That it’s left to us to do the right thing.

The latter category comprises the easiest and the hardest of them. Decisions that are self-evidently the right ones, so they’re easy, but also the most painful, so they are, likewise, infinitely hard.

But they are also as infinitely important.

The natural by-products of making those decisions are self-doubt, second-guessing and guilt. “Could anything else have been done?” “Should I have given it another day?” “Did I do the right thing?”

Objectively, I know that when someone’s blood has thinned to the point that he’s bleeding from his eyes, that his blood pressure is being artificially maintained at 50/20 and that he has cascading organ failure, it’s time to do the right thing. We knew what Daddy wanted, and that’s what we did.

Emotionally, I still can’t accept it. The “what if’s” hound me to this day.

What if, what if, what if.

I suppose I’ll live through them, as I did when Rich died 13 years ago this Friday.

It’ll take time.

Time to heal, time to gain confidence in my own decisions.

Nobody told me there’d be days like this, but I guess it’s just part of life’s rich pageant. I only hope that it doesn’t get richer any time soon.

Not sure I can afford it.