Shattered Walls

e done did it to me again.

It doesn't matter how high my guard is up. Or how thick the walls are. That big ass tat on my back? There's a reason why I have the ghetto version of "smile now, cry later" inked forever onto my skin.

And too many of them to list as to why I don't cry very easy. Especially not in public. But for some reason... whenever I enter this house...

Not immediately, but gradually... a gentle, subtle warmth starts to wrap around me after I've settled in. Like a "welcome home" greeting - regardless if I had just visited last week or last month. There's never a guilt-trip, never "Why haven't you come to see me?" or "I wish you'd come around more often."

The river doesn't flow during every visit... but today...? Today he heard me. Saw me. Understood me.

Took me right back to that first night in Phoenix, when I asked myself, "What the FUCK am I doing here? Away from my family? I don't need this shit."

He put his hand on my shoulder, empathized with me about the stupid riff I had going on with Hubz that morning. Hugged me in comfort as I thought about the last three days...

Finding out my great-aunt had had a massive stroke, and was fighting to stay with us every minute in the ICU.

Funny. I don't call her my great-aunt. I call her "Grandma." It's the Filipino way. Never mind that I only met my mother's mother once - when I was still in grade school. Her and my Grandpa were visiting from the Philippines.. and ovarian cancer claimed her before I got a chance to see her again.

I met my father's mother twice before she passed on. Last time was when I was in 6th grade. So... come to think of it, she may not technically be my "Grandma," but my great-aunt is the closest thing I've got to one.

And now she's officially half brain-dead. Had a successful surgery to release some of the swelling in her brain, but hasn't opened her eyes since last Thursday. But she's still fighting...

And He knows all this. He knows what's in my heart, probably even better than I do. And knowing that He's there, knowing that someone truly GETS what's going on with me...

Sometimes it's just the lightest touch, the offer of comfort and love - and that's it. The dam's broke, leaving me shuddering silently and shaking with sobs. No one may have seen his hand reach out to me... but that doesn't mean I didn't feel it.

It doesn't matter that there are people all around me. Sitting in front of or behind me... nobody takes leave because they're doing the same thing:

Praying for love, patience, guidance, strength.



I've been a bit MIA... trying to get my shit together. Effectively not talking to Hubz, who doesn't seem to want to discuss the stupid shit that we seem to do, that drives the other crazy. Spending time with my mom, who's here visiting on account of Grandma.

I'll be back... hope to see you on the other side of this shiznit.