charloft
The problems we face in our lives, our many hurts and illnesses all leave something behind.
Show us your scars. Or, if they aren't a physical mark or not a mark of interest, show us the thing that caused them.
They say the scarring in my lungs was so bad that it was a miracle I was breathing. Repeatedly coughing up blood will do that to you.
No, I don't have any scars. No bites (that's unusual). We're a species that should be made of scars, made for scars but every time my teeth cut my lip or my nails cut my face they heal instantly.
It doesn't mean I don't have scars.
They were my world.
They say death, or knowing that you're going to try is enough to change a man. I wasn't the best husband or the best father but I held my wife when it got cold at night (she hated the cold). I played dolls with Moira and cops and robbers and all kinds of other imagination games.
I cooked for Joyce. She was the better cook but we'd occasionally trade so she could laugh at my attempts. About the only thing I was good at making were brownies but she and Moira'd gobble them down and ask for...
I let Moira choose my Halloween costume every year. We had to match, so she was a cat and I was a dog, she was a clown and I was a clown, she was a fairy princess and I was a prince.
This year she wanted to be an FBI agent. We had..
When I was diagnosed Joyce was fine with everything except me being near her. Moira was my little girl and she refused to allow me to be in the same room with her. She was afraid to touch me and it was like a switch flipped in my brain. all I wanted to do was be with them.
Joyce had Moira to think about. I have to keep saying that. But every time they looked at me the way they did my wife and my daughter, the two people I loved most in the world, drew a scalpel across my heart. Scars are more then skin deep.
Show us your scars. Or, if they aren't a physical mark or not a mark of interest, show us the thing that caused them.
They say the scarring in my lungs was so bad that it was a miracle I was breathing. Repeatedly coughing up blood will do that to you.
No, I don't have any scars. No bites (that's unusual). We're a species that should be made of scars, made for scars but every time my teeth cut my lip or my nails cut my face they heal instantly.
It doesn't mean I don't have scars.
They were my world.
They say death, or knowing that you're going to try is enough to change a man. I wasn't the best husband or the best father but I held my wife when it got cold at night (she hated the cold). I played dolls with Moira and cops and robbers and all kinds of other imagination games.
I cooked for Joyce. She was the better cook but we'd occasionally trade so she could laugh at my attempts. About the only thing I was good at making were brownies but she and Moira'd gobble them down and ask for...
I let Moira choose my Halloween costume every year. We had to match, so she was a cat and I was a dog, she was a clown and I was a clown, she was a fairy princess and I was a prince.
This year she wanted to be an FBI agent. We had..
When I was diagnosed Joyce was fine with everything except me being near her. Moira was my little girl and she refused to allow me to be in the same room with her. She was afraid to touch me and it was like a switch flipped in my brain. all I wanted to do was be with them.
Joyce had Moira to think about. I have to keep saying that. But every time they looked at me the way they did my wife and my daughter, the two people I loved most in the world, drew a scalpel across my heart. Scars are more then skin deep.