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| Flower Art by Cynthia Yatchman |
“Friend”
Though we never met, we were friends for
years.
Your dog had a peritoneal hernia just as
mine did, so you joined an online forum.
We became more than acquaintances,
through shared experiences, both joyful and harrowing.
Our lives intertwined: you entered my
March Madness tournament, and we teased each other during football season, with
you always rooting for those Georgia Bulldogs and me, following those Buckeyes.
We shared sentiments and concerns
regarding our parents, dealing with declining health issues and the like.
And when your grandson was born with
spina bifida, we prayed for him, and over the internet I watched him grow and
thrive…and also consoled you during the setbacks, too…
For I, too, knew what it was like to
spend long nights in hospitals, wishing, crying, and begging God for help.
Though politically we had our
differences—and they were vast—never did I dream that my speaking out would be
enough for you to step away.
But unfriend me, you did, the very minute
that I supported those affected by this Supreme Court ruling.
Even though you suspected that I
might’ve, could’ve dabbled in witchcraft, that didn’t bother you.
Even though I embraced getting the
vaccine, that didn’t bother you.
But then I never made a show of my
ideological leanings…until now.
For so long, the other side has made its
wishes known, loudly, proudly, without relenting.
And even though it troubled me, I had
room in my head and in my heart for both sides of the conversation.
But on this one issue, this very, very
important matter of choice, I cannot let my voice go unheard.
Never one to make others feel
uncomfortable, I kept my mouth shut for so long,
Probably deep down knowing and fearing
that for some,
There isn’t room for another voice,
And even though the other side has won,
And has pushed back rights that I never
thought I’d see lost in my lifetime,
My voice must be silenced still.
Because there isn’t room in your head or
in your heart to tolerate it.
So I ask myself, were you ever really a
friend?
I regret that I won’t see your grandson
mature.
I realize how important this topic is to
you because if your daughter had listened to some, your grandchild never would
have been born.
But it’s a choice that was offered and
given to her.
Do you ever worry who will care for him
when he ages and you are gone?
When a pregnant friend of mine learned
that her baby had fetal hydrops, she had to make an awful decision: risk dying
of sepsis herself when her baby would perish within her womb, watch her child
be born and then die, or preserve what precious sanity that she had left and
remain healthy to care for her seven-year-old son, if she engaged in the other
option.
Her life was in danger, physically and
mentally.
What choice did she have, really?
Isn’t that between her and God?
What would you have done?
What would you have asked your daughter
to do?
And why should it be any of our business at
all?
Or, is this something that we can’t talk
about, either?
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