Two colleagues have candidly told me that they have chosen to push Friday’s events to the bottom of their minds. Like it was the simplest thing in the world.
One of them offered the smug “This sort of thing doesn’t happen in Canada” and I nearly smacked her.
I have no words.
This is a watery sort of grief. It is like swimming in the dark, never knowing when I am going to bump into something that hurts until… I bump into something that hurts.
I see blog posts about mundane things – reading groups and Christmas trees and crazy mothers-in-law – and I get all angry like people have no business writing about anything that is NOT SANDY HOOK.
But my God – can you imagine if all anyone was ever writing about was Sandy Hook? THANK GOD for reading groups and Christmas tress and crazy in-laws, really.
Here’s the thing, and I am putting it out there: I am having a hard time with this. I am not high-strung or melodramatic. I am not prone to anxiety (other than some weird social quirks) or obsessive thought patterns. I am pretty stable, pretty no-nonsense, pretty grounded. I am, generally speaking, AWESOME in a crisis. I am good at keeping things in perspective.
I am not a particularly fragile person, but I am fragile right now. I HAVE NO PERSPECTIVE FOR THIS. Earlier today I was panicky about that – what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just DEAL? What is WITH the mood swings? Why am I SO CRABBY?
Oh, right, yes. It’s called grief. This is what grief does. Yes, now I remember.
Okay. So. F*ck it. This is who I am for right now. I cry over the goddamn Christmas shoes song.
- Competitive cooking shows
- Hot chocolate
- Cool sheets
- My ridiculous dog laying on my chest
- Buying expensive groceries
- Braiding my hair
- Walking the hallways, seeking out the faces of my students from the last 4 years
- Dinner plans with my best girlfriends on Saturday
- Which is also an excuse to buy a new dress
- A particularly huggy and snuggly group of kiddos in my class
- A boss who lets me yell and rage at her and with her
- My twitter people who share their own messes so freely and make me feel less weird
- My friend Lauren, who has promised to post pictures of camp to Facebook every day until I am through this week, just because I asked her to, because maybe pictures of the most healing place I know will help to heal… this.
I have a friend, from grad school. She is probably the only Christian Conservative friend I have. I love and respect the hell out of her. No pun intended. I am not a religious person, (Catholicism and I broke up a long time ago), but on Friday night, I asked this friend for some prayers. And now, every night around this time, she prays the prayer I asked for. And this weekend, her whole church prayed that prayer. And you know what? THAT is frinking comforting. A whole church raising up their hearts to pray for something I am worried about? Yeah, there go the tears again. There is something to be said for a friend like that, who will pray for you just because you ask. And not just in a “you’re in my prayers” sort of way, but in a hands-clasped, conversing-with-The-Big-Guy way. Michelle, if you’re reading? Keep talking to the Big Guy, okay? Because if He is listening to anyone, it is probably you.
My dad will be home from Texas for Christmas, soon, and as I always do at weepy times, I want my daddy.
So there. This is how things are now. I usually try to write better than this – tighter, cleaner.
But right now, things are messy.