Our last day

Today was my last day with B. This morning she stood at the door of the bathroom holding the frame for balance. Her pants were unbuttoned and her shirt was hiked up. I could see her belly button ring. She said, "I am destined to live a miserable, worthless life. I will never be happy." I told her to have hope that things are going to get better. Her head was down. She asked, "What is hope?"

I wish I had told her that its the feeling she has when we drive down 15-501 South with the windows down, singing to the Dixie Chicks' Wide Open Spaces and she opens her arms out, as if taking in all that space in the world for her. But I didn't say anything. I just shook my head.

B's Grandma came to visit. B is one of 18 grandchildren. Her grandma has 11 great grandchildren and a 2 month old great-great granddaughter. It had been a long time since she had visited Brittany. Just before she left B said, "Sometimes in the morning I stand at the top of the stairs and think that if I jumped no one would care." B was yelling with tears in her voice. She cannot cry but her grandmother can. They held hands. Her Grandma told her to look up. She talked about Jesus' suffering and said that He is everywhere. She asked her to keep faith.

When B was in the bathroom her grandmother asked me if she talked like this very often now. I said, "She talks like this everyday." We both shook our heads and said, "Its real hard." Brittany's dad came to take her to see the neuro-psychiatrist. Me and grandma drove home.