I had to look that word up because I was worried I was using it incorrectly (Google-induced paranoia). According to Wikipedia: A burrow is a hole or tunnel dug into the ground by an animal to create a space suitable for habitation, temporary refuge, or as a byproduct of locomotion.
I think my particular variety of burrowing is the byproduct of locomotion...ok, I'm pretty sure I'm using that term incorrectly...I just like the idea of outside forces being simply "locomotion," like things are rushing by you and they make you want to burrow.
My instinct to burrow was started by a sinus infection that I let get away from me without seeking drugs, but it's been significantly worsened by today's news that someone who holds a special place in my heart is losing his battle with cancer.
He has a brain tumor, you see, and despite multiple rounds of chemo and all the prayer in the world, that tumor has started to get bigger. And even though his wife has remained impossibly optimistic throughout this lengthy ordeal, her message today made it clear that we are no longer waiting for a miracle, we have moved into hoping for an end to his suffering.
I think I thought that since he's been sick for so long, this news wouldn't be so jarring, but it turns out I was secretly expecting that miracle. Because honestly, after all the lives he has touched, this guy deserves one.
Which brings me to the burrowing. If it weren't for my kids, I probably wouldn't even be writing this blog because I'd be curled up in the fetal position just wallowing.
I'm sad, yes. But I also feel guilty because I haven't seen him. My last exchange with him was more than 18 months ago and it was over email, just before he had the brain surgery from which he never fully recovered. Maybe guilty isn't the right word, as I don't think he was sitting around wondering why I never came to visit (he was a mentor and I know he played a more important role in my life than I played in his).
I guess maybe I'm having regrets...wondering if not seeing him was the right thing to do...hanging onto this idea that I would see him when he was better, even when I knew that day might not come. I just don't think I can see him like this. I don't want to remember him as anything less than the pillar of strength and love that he always was.
And rather than face the painful reality of what is happening, I guess I'd rather burrow...even if the refuge is only temporary.
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