gifts unbought

More and more often I find myself wondering what to write.
Staring at the blank document in front of me
fingers posed over the home row
biting my lip
mind idling.

I wonder why I’m having writer’s block these days.
My mind is busy enough.
My days are full.
But still, nothing.

Maybe I’m going through a mid-blogger-life crises.

Anyway, it’s Father’s Day this weekend.
Although I dearly wish that I was buying Frenchie his first Father’s Day present,
this is nowhere near as hard on me as Mother’s Day was.
I’m looking forward to spending time with my Dad
and
making up for the absence of my sister.

The rift between my parents and my sister grows.
I thought it was getting better for a while but I was wrong.
I don’t talk about her much here.
I love her dearly.
She is one in a million and I’m very close with her.
But I am having an increasingly difficult time
bridging the chasm between her and my parents.

Seeing them in pain, causes me pain.
I wish I could heal them
but I cannot.
All I can do is try to make up for the hurt by being the best daughter I can be.

I guess that whole situation is just one more reason why I take infertility so hard.
I want so much to give them a grandchild.
The fact that I haven’t been able to is like a knife in my heart.
Because they would make the best grandparents.
It seems so unfair that my problem affects them too.
They should have a grandchild to lavish love upon.
To receive happiness and freely given love from.

Is there any day or area of my life that infertility doesn’t affect?
I don’t think so.

Deep in the secret part of my soul and the most protected part of my heart I hope beyond hope that next year I’ll be able to give my parents gifts from their grandchild.