Powerless

I am panicking. Right now it’s after midnight and I can’t turn off my brain. Nights are hard. It’s when all the noises and distractions of the day end and I’m trying to get to sleep. That’s when all the horrible thoughts creep in. I’ve cried myself to sleep every night since Monday. I really can’t bear to think of not seeing my dear Henry again. And I’m really trying to remain hopeful. But with every passing day not hearing a damn thing, it gets harder. I’ve been forced into this world that I don’t want to see. Every day, I obsessively check all of the listings I know of lost and found animals. Thus, every day, I am reminded that many are never found. I can’t handle being so far away. I just want to be out there looking, calling him, knocking on every door in an area that may possibly have had some sightings. I want to know where the signs are hung. I want to control. And I can’t.

I’m angry. I’m angry that I wasn’t told that he was missing for a full week. I’m angry that I will never know if I could have helped sooner. I don’t believe there was any malice involved in not telling me; I just wonder if I could have done more.

Tonight, I am freaking out about Faith Abigail. Patrick has assured me that she is safe, but tonight I got scared about it. Just a bad feeling. I’m trying to put it to rest. I tried to call Patrick and he didn’t answer. That’s even more scary, as last time he didn’t answer his phone, I ultimately discovered that he had been missing Henry. So it doesn’t help me get to sleep.

I need help finding the meaning in all of it. I fluctuate from being so angry at myself for taking them out of their space of my apartment and leaving them with someone they didn’t know that well; to being angry at my job for telling me I had to go away for a full month; to being angry at Patrick for whatever reason. I recognize that none of this is productive or helpful. I’m trying to be at peace and to stay positive and to remain hopeful. But this is my family. And I can’t handle this. I’ve often thought that it’s the not knowing that’s hardest, and this is no different. Murray’s death was vastly easier than this, in that it was something I understood, it was something spiritual and beautiful, and it was something with closure. At this time, I have no idea what’s happening to my little boy. I can only hope and pray that he’s okay.

I fucking hate that I’ve done all I can at this point. There’s nothing more to keep me busy. I’ve contacted every shelter I can find, I’ve posted notices on every website I can think of, I’ve paid for ads in the papers, I’ve sent pictures and descriptions to go into new signs, I’ve e-mailed and called all of my friends, I’ve asked for help. I’m checking every website and very dear friends are searching, hanging signs, and checking the local shelters. And I’m here just trying to get some sleep.

On Monday when Patrick told me, I called Dianne. I realized almost immediately that I would need some supportive clarity around this. Her outgoing message informed me that she is out of the office until this coming Monday. I left her a message saying that I was having a hard day and that I was having a hard time seeing what the universe was intending with this. I’m trying to let go of some of my need to know and understand, but I’m really having a hard time with it.

Every time my phone rings, I hope that it’s someone calling to say they found Henry. Everything would just feel better if that were the case.

Today the ringing phone brought more difficult news: Jinx passed away today.

It’s been a hard week.