Pragmatist

2008-08-23
6:53 p.m.

prag�ma�tism (pr g m -t z m) n.
A practical, matter-of-fact way of approaching or assessing situations or of solving problems.

There are things I do best, things I do better, things I do good, and things I don�t do good at all. Or is that well. One grammar rule I�ve never remembered.

I say this because just lately, during an emergency medical situation, I attempted to be loving and sympathetic, but came across as a pragmatist. And spent the days since then disappointed � no, kicking myself - that I was unable to verbalize what I am so often able to write, or what I still always feel inside.

For despite the Mother Dearest episodes when she would grab my wrist, twist me to the ground and kick me, screaming �Cry dammit� I remember knowing how to express sympathy, how to be a best friend, how to listen.

A dear schoolmate died in Vietnam, my best friend�s brother in the KAL flight, my neighbor lost her husband and son in a car accident and the police came to my house so I could tell her and her other children. Two years ago my favorite cousin lost her mother, my wonderful aunt, and step-father to old age, then her son in a car accident � all within six months. On 9/11 I lived five miles from the Pentagon and Shellee lived in Manhattan. We both knew people who were affected by those events in the worst possible ways. And I�m old enough where most of my family has passed.

In all of these cases I felt like I was able to say and do the right things. Now I wonder where it has gone.

Maybe I lost a little when it was up to me to find food at the end of the week.

Maybe I lost a little when it was up to me to keep my head through the childhood stitches, broken bones, illnesses and fevers small children invariably attract.

Maybe I lost a little when it was up to me to fix what was broken, find what was lost, soothe what was hurt.

Maybe I lost a little when a man I loved told me he was not only dating, but sleeping with, other women, and expected me to feel no pain because, after all, he loved me best.

And maybe I lost a little when I realized it was always going to be up to me to square my shoulders, raise my chin, keep my head up, realize things could be a lot worse and carry on.

It is hurricane season again, and like the last few years, I will spend countless nights wandering between bed, the computer, and CNN. Friends, acquaintances, and friends and family of friends, live in the paths and I can�t begin to imagine what it must be like for them to sit helplessly while nature does what nature is going to do.

One of my best friends, left-handed, a sailor and a dancer, had an accident and has lost most of the use of his left hand. And there is considerable doubt if he will ever fully regain the use.

My boyfriend, who has poor eyesight to begin with, has suffered irreparable internal damage to one of them, and he grieves for this proof of his own mortality.

My daughter wonders if she is getting too old for continued success in the career she has lived for since a teenager.

I wish I were better at this. I wish there was something I could say or do that could help, but I realize there really isn't anything other than just to offer what words of solace and encouragement I can from the bottom of my heart and hope they know I mean it in the most loving way. All I know to say is I wish I could hold your hand, or give you a hug, or make a deal with whatever forces send evil to the world for whatever I might have that they would take in trade to make it better. Since none of those are possible, I'll just be here for them in whatever capacity they want me to be. Ready to talk, ready to listen, ready to...feel.

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