Behind the Curtain

I know safety is an illusion. None of us are safe, ever, at any time. I imagine giving birth to a dead baby isn't the last time the universe is going to teach me that lesson. I do hope it's the biggest - but I know there are no guarantees.

Last night someone broke into our garage and stole our riding lawnmower.

Today I felt thrown back to those early, early days, the first week after William's death, when I couldn't go outside without trembling with fear, when I had to stay close to M. to feel even remotely secure. In those days, if I wasn't touching him, it felt as if I would disappear, be swallowed up by the black hole I could sense all around the edges of things. 

Today, I felt that again.

I spent today locking the doors, looking over my shoulder, jumping at every noise.

This is what happens when the veil is lifted, when you get a glimpse of the man behind the curtain. Everything becomes a violation, and you are powerless in the face of it.

I'm not angry about the lawnmower. Considering my anger issues lately, that's surprising, I suppose. But when you've lost your most precious thing, everything else just pales. It's a hunk of metal machinery. Nothing. So not important.

But having the veil lifted again brings me to my knees. I was doing such a good job of pretending, a little girl at a tea party, some for you, some for me, isn't this nice? And then the world forces me under again, drowning me in helpless fear, relentless horror.

I am not safe, my children are not safe, my husband is not safe, you are not safe. Nothing is safe. 

The world is a dangerous place. 

How could I have forgotten, even for a moment? My own body couldn't protect one fragile, precious life. How could I think the wide expanse of the universe was going to protect me or mine? How could I have fooled myself, lulled again, like following the call of the piper, just wanting to believe?

I could pretend... or run... or hide. I could close my eyes, hold fast, and pray. I have done all of those things since William died in the face of the devastating truth that not only is the world not safe now... it never was. 

Because babies were dying, even if I didn't know it. Any of the four children I have now could have died inside of me. They could die right now. The truth was out there, in here, all along. Nothing I could have done and nothing I'm doing now can defend against it. 

There are no champions. There's no holding out for a hero. There are no happy endings.

The police officer who came to take our report said, "You'll never get it back." 

I thought, I know. 

He said, "Hard to prevent something like this."

I thought, I know. 

He said, "Sometimes you just have to cut your losses."

Ouch. I thought, I know, I know. 

Then he said, "Besides...how could you prove it was yours?"

And I thought... oh, believe me. I would know him anywhere. 

But of course, I wasn't thinking about lawnmowers anymore. 

I never was.