You can’t see me, but I exist. I live in your neighborhood. I am hurt and yet you don’t seem to know or care. I am broken, and yet you can’t see it on my body. I am scared and frightened every day and yet you will never know. If I told you I had cancer you would be calling, offering all kinds of help. There would be support groups, survivors with hope, meals delivered, and even child care offered. The phone doesn’t ring and the meals don’t come. My 8 year old daughter cries out, “I want my old Daddy back.”
http://www.marcidrimer.com/blo