This could be the longest day…
Today feels like an eternity suspended in stillness, each second a painful crawl. An overbearing weight presses down on me, an amalgamation of anxiety, trepidation, and an agonizing sense of helplessness. My best friend is currently undergoing a marathon surgery to remove as much of her brain tumour as possible, and the waiting feels endless.
Eight hours have passed, a mere two-thirds of the projected time, and yet, every silent tick of the clock screams at me. I find myself latching onto the hope that “no news is good news.” In a situation filled with so many unknowns, perhaps silence is the best reassurance I can clutch onto.
The void left by my wife’s absence adds another layer to the day’s complexity. She’s at her grandma’s funeral. While my heart aches for her loss, I couldn’t bear to be around others today. The storm of emotions threatening to burst from within me wouldn’t be fair to expose to others. On any other day, she would be my rock, my anchor in the tumultuous seas of uncertainty. But today, she has her own grief to contend with.
Every message tone, every phone ring, every doorbell chime sends my heart racing. The longing for good news, or perhaps any news at all, is overwhelming. Yet the day stretches on, quiet and interminable.
Time, today, feels like a capricious entity, playing games and stretching moments into eons. All I can do is hope and wait, praying for the best while preparing for the worst, and wishing for the strength to support my friend through whatever comes next.
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