Woah, a sailboat on Monterey Bay, Matt on NotWordpress. The clouds, the California clouds.
Every Cloud… is the story of an abortion. It is a pro-Life book.
The book is an autobiography or memoir; it explores a divorce, the marriage, and the aftermath.
As I finally put the book down, I sit here at my dining room table in a reflective, transcendent state with Mother Mary, whose medal, in gold and porcelain, I am wearing, in the middle of the long quagmire of the marriage, unfurling all the tightly clenched leaves of pain pockets in the 22-odd years. ‘T’s hard to explain.
But I finally cried for that abortion that started all this chaos, craziness, horror and pain of the long relationship which turned into a sanctified marriage in the end.
The relationship was nuts when it started. It is only through having ANOTHER abortion a little later that I finally understand what happened. It doesn’t bear explaining, just that the already torn relationship got skewed into oblivion and a new relationship grew up around the abortion without our even understanding it. Now, I remember the dissolving feeling that comes about 3 or four months later, and I see how when it happened in Texas I didn’t know what it was, I thought it had to do with my stopping medicine. I wept for that child. I have belabored the point of abortion, mostly the second one, extensively. Now I see that single, horrific act when I was 29, and felt my biological clock ticking, turned a major life crisis into gigantic proportions. that have left me utterly bewildered for so long.
Finally I begin to see it, the quagmire resolves into thousands of limpid pools where there is eclairissment at every step. I wish that I could say “Oh, joy,” but I can’t because that first abortion is tugging at my guts, gutsob, still crying, torn up, inside, and trying to help my born child. Waterfalls of tears, washing me. Oh, God.