Sunday, February 20, 2011

The tinge

tinge –noun. a slight admixture, as of some qualifying property or characteristic; trace; smattering: a tinge of garlic; a tinge of anger.

In my case, a tinge of why us?

I get this hint of a feeling occasionally. It's nothing like the initial blow of finding Julia's hearing loss. That was grief. The grief was compounded by guilt. After all, it could be worse. I grieved for three weeks and then felt angry at myself for still feeling grief. I dealt with grief, anger, and guilt for the balance of the first year.

If only I'd known then that three years later I'd still be feeling the tinge. That very faint, pathetic feeling when I wonder why this happened to us.

Why us? My mind whispers when she's up in the night gagging and I have to run for one of her hearing aids to communicate with her.

Why us? I murmur when she rips out the right hearing aid because "it's not working" only have me troubleshoot both and discover that it's actually the left one that's blocked. (She twisted the tubing 360° when she put it in.)

Why us? I groan as a less than two-year-old dancer girl fixates on the pretty rainbow ear molds in my daughter's ears and investigates them with a stiff poke.

I'm not thrilled to still be feeling it, but I let myself have a moment now. There's no point in feeling guilty. This is our thing. Other people have more difficult challenges, but that doesn't take away my right to feel occasionally dismayed at our occasional hardships.

It is after all, a "slight smattering," perhaps one day, the tinge won't even exist.

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