Journal Entry for November 10/00 by Catharine Alexander

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November 10, 2000

When he arrived home, I could tell by the set of his shoulders, the look in his eyes and the slowness his step that it had been a bad day. It's like a light inside him has gone out. I've learned, not to ask, because he either can't tell me about it, or doesn't want to. If he needs to talk, he will, but not to me. Perhaps to either Blair or Simon.

It hurts to see him like this. So many think he's cool as a cucumber, that nothing gets through. But they don't see what I see. He can't do the work he does and not be touched by it. He can't do it well if he doesn't feel. And he feels.

Anger, frustration, grief, bewilderment at how people can treat one another the way they do. And I think the worst - a helplessness when things are out of his hands. He stands powerless, as a witness to the daily trial of horror his job can hold.

I understand that helpless feeling. The frustration, because I feel the same when he comes home like this. Although I know, I can't share his feelings the same way because I'm not privy to what has caused it.

He was quiet through dinner. He watched television without seeing it, surfed the channels looking for something to distract him from his thoughts. Many times during the evening he got up and stared out the window at the city. His city. His tribe. His responsibility. There are times I wonder if it isn't too much responsibility he's taken on. But then, I reminded myself, the universe doesn't give you anything you can't handle.

I finally persuaded him to come to bed. While he was physically there beside me, I knew he was running over the day again, for the umpteenth time. I cuddled closer, and placed my hand on his chest. I started to silently run through my prayer.

First part of the prayer is to protect and guide him. I smile at that thought every time I say it. I know that this is what Blair's part in this is - and I include him in my prayer. Was it really less than a year ago I'd admitted I'd been jealous of him, and his place in Jim's life? Now I find myself thanking whatever powers that be in this universe, that he stands with Jim, and watches his back.

I know my hand has grown very warm. I can feel it almost burning. He'll know what I'm up to. I don't hide it anymore. He has always been able to tell when I do energy work.

The second part of the prayer is for love and healing, to let it flow through him, surround him and fill him. To repair his heart, his soul, his mind and body. What more can I ask for?

Beneath my hand, I could feel him relax. I removed my hand and shifted in bed to let him sleep. With a sigh, he pulled me closer.  In the dim light, I could see his face relax as he drifted off to sleep.

This is all I can do. This is my watch.

 


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