The election results devastated me even though I saw it coming. A big part of me knew that the world would not let her triumph. And I was right.
Watching the election results was like shining a little flashlight into every dark corner of being underestimated, resented, criticized, stepped over and stepped around that has been part of my life and that of every woman my age. If you are younger than me, trust me, you did not feel the full pain of this election. You did not get the message that “Nothing you do will be good enough. You are not good enough.” I am old so it is no surprise.
I am weary of this. The unbridled sexism, the racism, the crudeness. I am in disbelief that anyone I know would not support the better candidate. I am let down by the world, disillusioned, left to feel like a 10-year old child who still believes in the tooth fairy. My school friends would mock me, “You still believe in the tooth fairy?” No, not anymore.
While all this occurs, though, there is another terrible story unfolding. My younger daughter, who has lived a life of struggle with the heart damage done by rheumatic fever, has been in cardiac intensive care for the past ten days. She faces surgery next week to replace and repair three of her heart valves. It will be her fourth open heart surgery. We are afraid for her at the same time as we admire her bravery. It is daunting, such a thing. And she is only 29. I shiver with this. Quake. Even as we press on together. I quake for her.
In the middle of the night, my husband senses that I am awake.He turns on the light to talk to me because I cannot hear in the dark. Once I remove my cochlear implant receiver and my hearing aid, I am deaf.
So he turns on the light and he looks at me, as if to gather up all of the frightened pieces, and says, “We have each other.”
We do. Thank God.