Just A Month
It always happens this way, but lately my ability to temper my reaction has gotten so soft. We walked toward the airport terminal, through the long expanse of parking garage, and I could feel the tears starting behind my eyes already. I used to think something along the lines of, "it's only a movie!" and that would be enough to persuade my brain into waiting, holding onto the full release, giving me the courtesy of a private breakdown. This time when I told myself that line my brain retaliated by thinking of the saddest scenes from the saddest movies and interjecting myself and my loved ones into the worst possible points. "Hey Emily, how do you think Gorgo remained so strong when Leonidas left for battle? When they parted for the last time, both knowing that they would never see each other again. What if that was Dan? There will probably be a Last Time You Ever See Him Again." Thanks, brain.
We waited in the line together and I knew I'd have to make a hasty and awkward departure because only the parent is allowed to walk to the gate. The tears were already falling freely and Dan looked at me with so much compassion and what can you really do, at that point? A hug and an I Love You and the lumbering inability to change anything, the absolutely insufferable absence of action. A walk down to baggage claim to wait, and so many tears. There is a great polarity of emotion in airports. There is such deep sorrow in parting and it hangs heavy around your feet, makes it hard to walk, to breathe. Dan rejoined me about thirty minutes later and we both walked wet faced back to the car, returned home, slept. Slept and slept and slept.
I think part of the pain comes from how much my relationship with him has felt like failure. There is so much kittied up in this. I mean, I make my living from my ability to build meaningful relationships with kids, how is it possible to have something so disjointed and lackluster with the one kid with whom I should be the closest? And true to my nature of course I couldn't accept this perceived failure as final and thus was born the exchange student experiment, and wow if that didn't provide some negative reinforcement. But finally, finally everything went so well! And in the blink of an eye he was gone again. And how unfortunate that the timing lined up with my return to work and the incessant negativity from the adults at the beginning of the school year. I swear that education employs some of the most dysfunctional people.
I would tell her that the first two weeks of change are the hardest. That sometimes you just have to muscle through. That it is 100% OK to feel sad all the way down to the bottom, but that it's so important to remember that there is a balance to everything in life. That this bottomless sad exists because of the ceilingless happy. That when you get back to that ceilingless happy you will be hard pressed to remember exactly how this felt but you will remember how strong you were. It is a gift to be human and to be able to feel so deeply. To love so deeply. So cry, don't be ashamed of it, don't try to mute it, but know that everything in the universe clamors for equilibrium and you will not always feel this way. Life is very short and it is very beautiful, and the storms you weather help to draw you closer to yourself if you allow them to. So reflect, figure out what you can gain from this, and begin to look forward to the ride back up.
We waited in the line together and I knew I'd have to make a hasty and awkward departure because only the parent is allowed to walk to the gate. The tears were already falling freely and Dan looked at me with so much compassion and what can you really do, at that point? A hug and an I Love You and the lumbering inability to change anything, the absolutely insufferable absence of action. A walk down to baggage claim to wait, and so many tears. There is a great polarity of emotion in airports. There is such deep sorrow in parting and it hangs heavy around your feet, makes it hard to walk, to breathe. Dan rejoined me about thirty minutes later and we both walked wet faced back to the car, returned home, slept. Slept and slept and slept.
I think part of the pain comes from how much my relationship with him has felt like failure. There is so much kittied up in this. I mean, I make my living from my ability to build meaningful relationships with kids, how is it possible to have something so disjointed and lackluster with the one kid with whom I should be the closest? And true to my nature of course I couldn't accept this perceived failure as final and thus was born the exchange student experiment, and wow if that didn't provide some negative reinforcement. But finally, finally everything went so well! And in the blink of an eye he was gone again. And how unfortunate that the timing lined up with my return to work and the incessant negativity from the adults at the beginning of the school year. I swear that education employs some of the most dysfunctional people.
I would tell her that the first two weeks of change are the hardest. That sometimes you just have to muscle through. That it is 100% OK to feel sad all the way down to the bottom, but that it's so important to remember that there is a balance to everything in life. That this bottomless sad exists because of the ceilingless happy. That when you get back to that ceilingless happy you will be hard pressed to remember exactly how this felt but you will remember how strong you were. It is a gift to be human and to be able to feel so deeply. To love so deeply. So cry, don't be ashamed of it, don't try to mute it, but know that everything in the universe clamors for equilibrium and you will not always feel this way. Life is very short and it is very beautiful, and the storms you weather help to draw you closer to yourself if you allow them to. So reflect, figure out what you can gain from this, and begin to look forward to the ride back up.
