May 28: Dead Guys and Tombstones, Sick Kids, Prayer of the Week

When the weather's nice, my parents go out quite frequently and stick a bunch of flowers on old Allie's grave.  I went with them a couple of times, but I cut it out.  In the first place, I certainly don't enjoy seeing him in that crazy cemetery.  Surrounded by dead guys and tombstones and all.  It wasn't too bad when the sun was out, but twice--twice--we were there when it started to rain.  It was awful.  It rained on his lousy tombstone, and it rained on the grass on his stomach.  It rained all over the place.  All the visitors that were visiting the cemetery started running like hell over to their cars.  That's what nearly drove me crazy.  All the visitors could get in their cars and turn on their radios and all and then go someplace nice for dinner--everybody except Allie.  I couldn't stand it.  I know it's only his body and all that's in the cemetery, and his soul's in Heaven and all that crap, but I couldn't stand it anyway.  I just wish he wasn't there.  You didn't know him.  If you'd known him, you'd know what I mean.  It's not too bad when the sun's out, but the sun only comes out when it feels like coming out.

Holden is strongly attached to the memory of his brother, Allie.  In fact, I would say that a majority of Holden's problems in The Catcher in the Rye stem from his grief over Allie's death, a grief he's never really allowed himself to express in any healing way.  I think the whole Caulfield family was sort of torn apart by Allie's illness.  Holden has never dealt with his emotions because his parents have shut down, too.  Holden describes his father as distracted, removed, a workaholic.  His mother fares a little better, but not by much.  And I understand this portrait.  As a father, I will admit that one of my greatest fears is losing my children.  Any parent would agree with me.  I would probably shut down like Holden's dad.

My daughter has been sick for over a month-and-a-half.  This morning, she called me before school to say that her throat was sore and getting sorer by the minute.  She is already on her second round of antibiotics, and nothing seems to be doing the trick.  She still has an infected ear.  She still has a sore throat.  And now she's missing one of her last days of sixth grade.

I know that an infected ear and throat don't compare to Allie Caulfield's leukemia, obviously.  But there's a certain helplessness I'm experiencing right now that is driving me crazy.  I want my daughter to be well.  I want her to enjoy these last few days of the school year.  Her dance recital is next weekend.  I want her to enjoy the fruits of all her hard work in dance class over the last nine months.  She's worked her butt off.  Instead, she's probably coughing and sitting out most her rehearsals this evening.

Of course, the twisted part of my person is imagining horrible illnesses that my daughter could be suffering with.  Let's start with strep throat and work our way up to leukemia.  That pretty much covers the whole spectrum of my parental nightmares, from the treatable to the fatal.  Yes, I've entertained the notion that my daughter would come away from the pediatrician this morning with some kind of incurable, unpronounceable disease.  Cystifibroleukematicalysis or something like that.  She didn't.  She came away with a prescription for different antibiotic.

But, because of today's health crisis (if it can be called a crisis), I have been contemplating my daughter and son, and all that I hope and dream and pray for them.

Dear God,

It's me again.  I know You're probably getting tired of hearing from me.  It seems all I do is ask You for things.  Health.  Money.  A new job.  A new house.  Kellie Pickler to lose on Dancing With the Stars.  I don't mean to be so self-centered, but I'm human.  And a writer.  And a parent.  And a adjunct college instructor.  And a Zendaya fan.  I have a lot of strikes against me in the ego department.

Tonight, I want to ask You for health for my daughter.  Let her start feeling better.  Give her strength and stamina to battle this virus or cold or whatever it is.  Let her know how much I love and care for her.  And the same goes for my son.  Even though he's not sick at the moment, I ask You for good health for him.  Keep him safe from harm.  Let him grow into a strong, smart young man.  And let him know how much I love and care for him.

I know You understand the love I feel for my kids.  You had a Kid, too.  My son and daughter are great children.  I've tried to teach them about Your love for them.  Please, tonight, smile down upon them.  Touch them with healing.

Thanks for listening to me again.

Your loving child,

Saint Marty

If she couldn't beat Kellie Pickler, at least make my daughter well