The Bite of Bed Bugs

I've never seen a one, you know. Our house was always nice and clean. But lately, I've had my own version. Tonight is no exception. I just took my medicine about half an hour ago so I am hoping it will kick in soon.

I've been working on files this afternoon and tonight, between calls from my family. Both have been keeping me sane. I've found waiting too long between the medicine is not fun. I took a half one this morning so I could stay awake. But by noon, I knew I needed the other half. And I should have taken tonight's a bit earlier.

Around noon, I got a lovely card in the mail from a good friend who had also been at the funeral and she related a memory she had of Jerry and I. It was so painful I just fell apart again. It wasn't a bad memory. It was really something beautiful and perhaps someday I may be able to read it without dying inside. I'd like to think so but I am not really convinced. Guilt for all the forgotten things I should have done rolled back over me. He did love me. People saw it all the time. I wonder did I show that I loved him as much? I don't think I did. No one has ever said "I could tell you loved him."

I have a stack of files on my desk now, half a dozen. I've done well over a dozen today and a dozen still to go but I have time for the next batch later in the week. I am keeping away from any memory at all now. I can't think about anything. I have to regain my control and sanity. I can't function like this. I can't face another day. I can't sleep. I can't think. I don't want to.

How will I continue to exist with this weight crushing the breath from me? That's what it does. I can't get my breath at times. Like some fish cast onto the beach, struggling to find its way back to the water. I clutch something, my chest, my stomach, anything just to keep breathing and push back the hurt.

I have nothing to forgive Jerry for. It is all my own guilt. I can't get past it. I can't go around it and I can't climb over it. There is no escape from it. I've asked God to give me some acknowledgement that not only does he forgive me, but that Jerry does as well. Oh, I know that the last thing on Jerry's mind right now is me and my misery but how will I ever get past this point if I can't find some reassurance. I know that Jerry would never hate me but I do.

Perhaps Esau's problem was not that God would not forgive him. Perhaps Esau could never forgive himself.