The Scab

Remember when you were little and you were running around maybe being chased by a friend, laughing your head off and then you stumbled over something and you fell down? Or maybe you were riding your bike and you fell off? As you picked yourself up, you realized that maybe your knee or your elbow was bleeding and then the bloody scrape began to throb with pain? I think everyone must have experienced something like that at least once in their life.

Your scrape may have been uncomfortable, but it usually began to heal within a few days. A scab eventually began to form. The depth, size, and location of the scrape dictated how long it would take for your injury to heal. Eventually, a scab began to form. New skin began to form on the edges of the wound and the wound healed from the edges in to the middle. You found that your skin may have turned pink and was still sensitive to touch, but eventually the scab decreased in size and eventually fell off (if you didn't pick it off first). If you're lucky, there was hardly any evidence that there was ever some type of skin trauma and life went on as if the fall or the stumble ever happened.

We do need to remember though, that sometimes during the healing process, when the scab had formed, the scab or a portion of it, may have been accidentally rubbed or knocked off. This might have caused the wound to start bleeding again, some new pain may have been felt and the healing process might have had to begin all over again.

You may be wondering what this has to do with anything. Why would I be writing about scabs?! While standing in the shower recently, I realized that in many ways my life in the last couple of years can be likened to a scab. Let's think about it. I was living life basically on a "one day at a time" basis, but one day I got knocked down by life in a very BIG and unexpected way. It was hard - extremely hard to pick myself up. I really didn't want to get up. It was so much easier just to lie there wanting to be left alone bruised and bloody. Thankfully, I had Corey and Nikki and my family and friends who rallied around me who literally and figuratively picked me up and started to clean my wounds. I developed a scab - a really big one. While thinking about all this, I came to realize that I believe that my scab is slowly falling away piece by little piece. Don't get me wrong - I still feel pain from that wound. I find that I may not cry and grieve in the same way that I did initially, but there is still hurt. There is still pain and I don't know when this wound will heal - when the scab will disappear. I know others who have experienced their own similar "scrapes" for a much, much longer time than I who tell me that they still have not gotten over the hurt; their pain. They still have scabs.

Rose Kennedy said in a quote that I read the other day, "It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessons. But it is never gone." She seems to know what it is like to have a scab.

Yes, I still have a scab. I still feel wounded. I still cry on occasions; not as often as I used to and they are generally more than naught happy tears. Happy tears? Yes, those are the ones when remembering how Joe would kiss the back of my hand; remembering his stupid jokes; recalling how he loved his huckleberry ice cream - those kind of things. Those are the happy tears. The really sad tears are less frequent. My wound is still deep. I still experience a loss of companionship and pain of missed opportunities to be together. I find that the loss and the crying can come from the stored memories I have when remembering Joe. These are wonderful memories as I find that the passage of time, the healing of the scab if you will, tends to make the bad memories of sickness and trauma become less and less remembered. The good memories can come from a song, a smell, a sound, but still provide some sorrow that Joe is not here to share them with. Those are supposed to be OUR memories. WE made those memories together. WE made those memories so that one day when WE could no longer make new ones, we'd always have those to fall back on. And now, I've been left with this tremendous amount and array of memories that really don't matter to anyone. That's where and when the sadness creeps in. That's one of the reasons why the scab still remains. The scab may not be as big as it was two years ago and my scrape may no longer be bleeding, but I've still got the scab.