••• Thursday, December 16, 2004

Monday From Hell, All Week Long
It’s been quite a week ‘round here. A week that actually started the previous Friday with the death of a teenager in the district where I work. Over the weekend another teen died in a car accident, and late yesterday we learned that a former student (would-be senior, with many friends here) had passed away earlier in the day.

I know.

As cold as this may sound, I’m finding that a person can acclimate to a battery of tragedies, with the right supports. In fact, I’m at my best under this type of duress. In crisis mode, my instinct is sharp and insight keen. Words of comfort and wisdom come readily, as though fed to me by an outside source. At these most horrific times, I feel strong. Vital.

This week at home, I’ve been doing okay as well. Tired. Worn. But okay. So far this week, I've been to a basketball game, decorated a Christmas tree and survived a one-on-one, several hour visit with my chatty, recently wed mother (which was going to be the original topic of today's post). And I hugged my babies. A lot.

At dinner one night, I cried when my 18 year-old son said “Mom, this is my all-time favorite meal. How come you never cook it anymore?" Then I tried not to think of him leaving me next year, for college. Then I tried not to think of the three mothers whose sons have recently left them, forever.

Back at work, I fight the intrusive images of three Christmas trees in three living rooms of three homes in mourning. Living rooms where three little boys once played around their respective trees, on Christmas Day.

To escape these images, I've been transferring my sorrow onto something else. Like feeling guilty over causing a physical and emotional void in my son's life through the unwitting omission of honey-glazed chicken (with pistachios) from my daily recipe rotation.

Sounds stupid, I know. But this strange coping tool is actually keeping me sane. On point, even. It works because it keeps me away from the realstuff. As in the realguiltstuff. The guilt born out of awareness that, while reaching out to those in mourning, I greedily covet the thought that my children are alive. Healthy. Right now. One of them likely dancing at day care and the other enjoying a favorite day dream as the regions's next high school basketball hero.

I’m not really sure where I wanted to go with all this, or if it even makes any kind of sense, outside my head. Regardless, I apologize for the rambly nature of the post, and for making up words, like rambly. I hadn't even planned on writing about this today. Although in retrospect, it's kind of silly that I even considered that I could write about anything else.

I really am okay. It’s just been one big, fat, nastyass Monday, all week long. If you believe in prayer and/or the power of love, send a little somethin' over this way. We shorely in need.

Good news: My wireless is once again wireless-ful. Evidently, portable phones and wireless internet don't get along. Who knew?

Better news: Tomorrow is my last day of work until after the holidays. The last two years we've worked almost to Christmas Eve, so this is gonna feel like a genuine hiatus.

And Now Some Well-Deserved Meanderings

  1. Plot:: Thickens
  2. Farce:: Farts
  3. Unexpected:: Pleasures
  4. Siren:: Sy-reen
  5. Ben:: Willard
  6. Freshman:: Babe
  7. Quicksand:: Tarzan
  8. 24 hours:: Without sleep
  9. Spunky:: Sass-say
  10. Vicious:: Sid

Give love with wild abandon.

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