I need to take a moment to be sad. To just sit with this deep, gut wrenching sense of sorrow and loss that’s been pulling at the edge of my existence for a while now, a little blurry but definitively present. This week, though, it’s brought it into focus. Sharp, clear, unignorable focus. This week, with confirmation of the end of the school year for all the kids; this week with the news that my education and progress will be significantly delayed; this week is ominous and dark in contrast to the sudden spring we’re experiencing outside.
It brings me back to a time when my kids were babies and young toddlers; some days were rough. There was layer upon layer of defeat and frustration piled on throughout the day but there I’d be, keeping it together, until someone threw a toy and it accidentally hit my face, maybe caught the corner of my eye, and it really hurt. Just for a second, but the pain was intense and it brought to a head all the feelings I’d been pushing down and keeping under control all day. And suddenly I’d be sobbing because it’s not just that few minutes of physical pain that you’re feeling but the summation of all that you’ve been carrying up to that moment.
I know that we’re very likely going to be okay, that in the grand scheme of things we’ll get through this, probably changed but still intact. I know that I’ve made it through much, much worse and that the way through is one day at a time. I know that I, and my family, are fortunate to have the safety and stability to bunker down and that thus far we are fortunate that the only losses we are mourning are losses of what we perceived our short term futures would be. Because many aren’t so fortunate. I know that, and that’s all good and fine. But, today, I still need this moment to sit with my sorrow because it is real and it is valid; the only way past this is through it.