Thursday, November 6, 2008

Over There

It's an old war song, the tune "Over There." George Cohan wrote in during World War I, when we Americans finally got our shit together and made it over to Europe to fight. [I wonder if it was resurrected at all in World War II, when it again took us many years to shed our xenophobia and make our way over to help fight one of the most heinous figures in history?]

What's my point, you wonder? I'm here. Somehow, I've lost a number of hours to air travel and time changes and muddled brain. But I'm here. And much as I hated leaving the kids and much as I know I'll hate being away from them, I am relieved to be here. To be with Pete. To be with Aunt Margaret. To provide some comfort in such awful times.

I won't be fighting to put an end to evil. And I likely won't even be here for the funeral as coroners and crematoriums and morticians and inquests swirl around Aunt Margaret and my husband, making a horridly difficult time even more so. But I can make tea. And I can open sympathy cards. And I can make jokes. And I can offer love.

It's not a lot, really, in the general scheme of things. But I'm hoping it will be enough. Over here.


D... said...

You are underestimating yourself. What you are doing, over there, is quite a lot. I'm glad your travels were safe.

m.o.M. said...

Often, a very simple act such as making tea means more than anything else that can be done at these times.

Recently, when my mom passed away, a friend brought over egg salad sandwiches. I don't remember much about those initial days and weeks, but the comfort of those simple egg salad sandwiches will always stay with me.

Lori said...

Just you being there is what matters. Just. Be. There. Kids. Will. Be. Fine.

Sian said...

Tea, laughter and being there is all that matters.


I mentioned to Eldest the other night that I had a fairly wide open day Friday. Writer that he is, he wondered if I would perhaps like a wri...