Monday, December 09, 2002

henry is laying there like one big bloated catatonic boy. we talk to him all of the time like he can hear us. it is incredibly painful to do this. we talk in that loud voice one uses when they talk long distance on a cell phone, like it's going to make any difference. putting lotion on his body is a treat. we keep him all lubed up and moving from side to side. i hope that touch really does heal. it is sad that you cannot hold or hug him with all of the tubes and wires that have sprouted out of his body.

one thing that has been really bugging me the past 72 hours is that i cannot remember henry from any time before 7 am on friday morning. it is so strange not to be able to remember the past 7 years at all. i cannot bring into focus any images of henry playing, singing, fighting with jack, swimming, eating, cuddling, reading, hitting a baseball, kicking a soccer ball, watching movies, dancing anything. i have stayed home and taken care of him the past two years and my memory is blank. it is like how my memory of my mom is frozen on the day she died. to correct this i am going to watch a copy of the nightline dvd that we brought with us. henry was featured on it earlier this year and they captured a lot of good footage of henry being henry. i cannot wait. i have a feeling this will make me cry a lot. i keep having this headache (so does laurie) that is a result of not crying but feeling like i have to cry. when you weep a lot you get a headache. i wonder what is behind that phenomenon. why does the body punish you for crying. everyone always says, "go ahead and cry."