Just Visiting

I’ve spent the better part of this evening, reading other people’s blogs, mostly those that are on my blogroll, as they are the people who’ve had something to ask or to share about Owen, or our interminable mystery.  I love the escape and experience you all provide me.  Thank you.

The last three weeks have provided both escape and the inescapable.  This post would be unending, if I were to share it all, and believe me, I have no interest in reliving it all.  I do that throughout my nights and days anyway – sleeplessness is a wonderful time to experience the utmost in torture. 

Someone I barely know, gave me a precious gift.  Someone I know well, allowed me to give her a gift of my cold hands on her fevered forehead.  Someone else I know well, shared music with me.  And, another person let me cry into his shoulder.  Good stuff.  

The good times were good.  The bad times were bad.  They all just, were.  I would have written parts of these last three weeks differently, but I wasn’t given that choice.

I’m spending more time writing offline, because I can’t write here, what I can write in private.  I can tell you this.  One of our cars was vandalized twice in our driveway within a period of five days; several people told us their versions of what happened to Owen – all disturbing, and all suspicious; and people who said they would help, have not – they don’t want to become involved.  Seriously, haven’t you all had enough?  If this is your way of relieving your own guilt, then find a new way.  We’re done with you.  We’ll never be done with the search, but trust is a thing earned, and you haven’t earned ours.

Often, I wonder if Owen was just visiting us here, as in: I landed here on my way to somewhere else, and you guys gave me a glimpse of what it’s like to be human – some of it was cool, I learned how to love, but for the most part, I’m glad I’m on my way to that place I sought in the beginning.  I have gone out to play.

My search for beauty in these few weeks, has resulted in this:  my friends are true; the trees are in bloom; the baby deer have returned to the hillside across from our house; people who would not normally cry in my office have used up three boxes of tissues; Lea’s photos took on a new light; Karma cried with me into the night; and my precious family has granted me time to go deep inside. 

Song for the night:  There I’ll Be, Livingston Taylor



~ by Linda on March 4, 2008.

3 Responses to “Just Visiting”

  1. I’m happy to have you visit over at my place today. I read your blog feed daily and am often at a total loss for words.

    Let me just say this, you are often in my thoughts.

    One day the truth will come out. Those who are holding it hostage will break and you will get some answers.

  2. The painting I gave to Nat is titled “Just Visiting” I don’t know if he remembered that or not.
    That is a good song, by the way.
    And thank you for the gift of the cool hand.

  3. I’m sorry you’ve had a hard time.

    What can anyone say to help? Not much, really. But we are listening.

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