Tonight I cried for a little girl who stood helpless as her mother and two siblings perished in a raging house fire, and cried for the siblings left with the little girl, motherless and adrift. I cried for the little girl who wanted strength and guidance from a father who could not provide either because he was crazy with grief and blame and anger, blind to facts, deaf to reason, numb to normal grieving. None of them grieved properly. They denied, ignored and turned away from those who offered comfort, as comfort seemed to be a sign of weakness and victimhood.
I cried for a young girl of fifteen who could not see beyond her small hometown world, who thought that her sole choice in life was to marry and have children. There was no vision of choices or alternatives, as those choices may have required risk and change. I cried for her because she wouldn't cry for herself, except when she saw her newborn son and realized that she had set a path that had permanently and irrevocably changed her life. She loved her children, but began to see, too late, that she was not emotionally mature enough to give them the attention children need.
I cried for those children, for the pain they suffered, for the emotionally distant mother who did the best she could, even in her self absorption.
I cried because she made stupid decisions; and knew in her heart that every one of those decisions was the wrong one for her, but chose them anyway.
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