nothing compares

you can't scare me with your tales of heartbreak, injustice and horror

nothing compares to the heartbreak of looking into your mom's eyes and seeing not a glimmer of recognition

nothing compares to the injustice of hearing this previously articulate woman say "Actually, I would prefer..." before the rest of her so carefully thought out speech deteriorates to an incoherent babble of sound.  

and you sit beside her, guessing and at the same time trying not to guess at what she would prefer. to still have her independence? her speech, her mobility, her logic, her memories, her dignity? 

nothing compares to the heartbreak in your sister's voice as she murmurs "she never wanted this," and the sinking feeling as you wonder if what she would prefer is just not being alive.

nothing compares to the horror of listening to this once proud woman weep, unable to tell you if she's in pain, or if these are tears of frustration or hopelessness

and nothing compares to the heartbreak, the injustice, the horror of knowing that one day the once proud, once independent, once articulate woman in the wheelchair will be you and those siblings gathered by her side will be your children, just wanting their mom to say the one thing all moms tell their children "It's going to be all right." because you know it isn't. it isn't going to be all right. it's never going to be all right.