…my mind is.
I will admit it, I felt a tinge of jealousy, followed by a flash of guilt. Why would their daughter be spared, when mine wasn’t? The conversations always start out simple enough. And end in a full fledge debate. I enjoy debates with like minded people, but on occasion, I like to toss in an undecided member just to take things to a new level. Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest thing to do, especially considering the topic at hand was so near to my heart. But I did it anyways, and regretted it. Its my own fault really. But still, I cant help it sometimes. I have to prod those areas, just enough. Just to see. Do I really still care?
Heart transplants. Ever since the discussion the other day, its been on my mind. Knowing it’s a yes or no case – I posed the question. Are transplants ok? One side whole heartedly agreed, while the other stood firm, so firm, in the camp of no. Both sides argued well, and passionately – and then asked what I thought. I couldnt answer. Because I simply do not know.
On the one side the argument was made that transplants are only given to the rich. Help, is really only offered to those with money – because when it comes down to it – money talks. But I also know there is more that goes into it. There is more than just selecting a random person with a random organ and saying you will do! There is so, so much more. And in a way, I feel personally connected to it all. Because I have been on that other side. Both sides.
I know absolutely nothing about parenting, but I will tell you this – a real parent will fight to the death to save their child. But am I a real parent? The conversation earlier shook any grounds that I stood on – that I had done all I could to help my daughter. If I were a bit more rich? Would that have helped? Did I not offer her enough? Maybe there was something MORE I could have done. And while logically I know, know, KNOW, that I did all I could have done at the time, my mind and heart sometimes just don’t agree, and sometimes, logic doesn’t win.
Reading the updates, hearing how well the child who just received a heart transplant is doing, is encouraging. Im happy. REALLY. I am. Don’t get me wrong. I am so happy for her and her family. For all the other families I have heard the good news on – I am honestly, thrilled. But part of me still asks – why them? Was my daughter not as important?
Movies I have watched, true or untrue, both stating the case that money talks – and each family whos child WAS saved, was because of the money drives this point home harder. Money. Money. Money. Damn the money. I want my daughter.
But doesn’t every parent?
Instead of happiness, I feel pain. And anger. And guilt. And pity. But mostly, anger. At myself. For getting upset, and raining in on someone parade. While I should be thrilled, that this heart came just in time – I cant be. I see pain, and sadness on the faces of others. I carry the grief of the family who lost the child who donated the heart, and I feel the burden of the world – crying out with the same unanswered question. Why not my child?
Had I been given the chance, I would have given her the world. I would have shown her around a broken pain riddled world full of sickness and suffering, and I would have sheltered her as long as I possibly could have. But since I cant, I can only hold to the falsity that I tried, and live with the regrets and knowledge that I failed as a parent.
And go on smiling, because atleast one child – one family – was spared.