think and reflect

     My posts are going to pretty raw for awhile.  I have always felt that writing is cathartic and I post it just because maybe someday it will help someone.  You may want to skip reading these posts as they will be about my feelings and thoughts.  They won't be updates on my family but rather my ups and downs in emotions.  My brother encouraged me to go back to the beginning and write what I remember; he seems to think it will help and has promised that he will read it.  For all he is my little brother, he is pretty fierce when he wants to be so I am kind of scared NOT to write. 

     It is funny how the mind works.  Jarrad told me to call 911.  My neighbor jumped the fence and his wife ran from their yard to ours.  As soon as I knew the ambulance was on the way, I knew I needed to get off the phone and call my friends.  I knew that Chris and Cara wouldn't hesitate and they didn't.  For me, time was incredibly slow.  Cara told me that the ambulance came quickly but I thought it was taking forever.  And yet, everything was so surreal.  I truly felt as if I was dreaming.  Any minute, he would get up and say that hurt.  Detached.  That is a good word but it doesn't explain the welling sense of panic.
     I was asked questions.  It was hard for me to answer.  I felt as if I had to pull my eyes away from Jarrad to whoever asked me the question before I could answer.  They were simple, yes or no.  Name.  Birthdate.  And then Jarrad moaned.  It came from deep within him and is the scariest thing I have ever heard. 
     Jarrad called for me and I held his hand; he asked me to recite Psalm 23.  I have known this verse since I was in elementary school and I could not for the life of me recall it.  I felt like I had failed him right out of the gate.  He is the strong one; the brave one.  He is the tiger, the pit bull, the charging bear in this family.  It is his nature to protect those around him and when he asked me for the comfort of a verse I have known all of my life, I couldn't give it to him.
     Instead, all I could repeat was, "Our Father, who art in Heaven."  Over and over.  So very far away in heaven.  I wonder if that is how He felt as he turned away from His son on the cross.  Like He had failed.  Am I being sacrilegious?  I don't think so.  It brings me a sense of comfort to know that He has felt what I felt. Still feel. 
Isn't it funny how the mind works?