It's been a week since I learned of Fisher's condition. Looking back on the last week, I realize how much I didn't want to believe in his diagnosis. I purposely scheduled denial days so I wouldn't have to face the future. Thursday was the best of them all. I took the boys to the beach to escape from my thoughts. A friend who didn't know of our sad news came along with her son.
We arrived at Queen's Beach to find plenty of distraction. There was a Hawaiian monk seal sleeping on the sand. I had never seen one of these rare creatures in the wild before (if you can call Waikiki the wild). Nearby there was a group of people congregating around a couple of beach boys who were throwing food to fish. The beach boys gave our little guys some bread to toss to the fish. When they were done, I invited Donovan to come get a closer look at the seal. The seal was surrounded by a barrier to keep people away. When I came to it, I called to Donovan to come see the seal's flippers. I was immediately shushed as if I had disturbed the other patrons in the library. I was told the seal was sleeping and had very good hearing. I thought it was hilarious at the time.
Shush! That's what I had told myself when I decided to take denial days. Yes, they were fun and I honestly think I needed the distractions they brought me. However, when I did remember and tears began to well up I wouldn't let them fall. Instead, I conveniently stored them in my neck and shoulders and put on a happy face. By the end of the first few days, the physical pain was too strong to ignore. I had to let myself cry, I had to let myself grieve. But how? How do you tell the world you have sad news? When people come up to me and pat my bulging belly, they are thinking happy thoughts. Who am I to put a damper in their day? It's too difficult for me to think about. Like Scarlet, "I'll think about it tomorrow". Maybe it is time for another denial day.