Still hurting

I had a rough week of real life.  Expectations of me were extremely high. The projects I was involved with, in addition to my teaching responsibilities were successful and I am proud of myself and my students who worked on them. And although I was able to deliver, I depleted all of my energy.  I made it through the week and when I got home on Friday afternoon I sat on the couch and the tears started running down my cheeks. It was a combination of frustration, exhaustion, and anticipation.  

Originally on Friday night I had wanted to go to services at my synagogue. I thought it would be relaxing and uplifting and by the time I got home I was thrilled that instead we had been invited to our friends’ home for Shabbat Dinner.  This meant that I wouldn’t have to prepare dinner.  My first instinct as I sat on the couch was to send the family and stay behind giving into my feelings.  I got out of my own way and forced myself to put one foot in front of the other and go with them.  And I am glad I did.  We enjoyed ourselves so much we stayed out much later than I thought we would.

A cell phone photo I sent Dr. Kirby from NYC last summer.
True and at the time meant to be humorous.*
*I have to admit I really like the one I've started seeing.

Saturday morning I woke with a sense of dread.  I had to decide whether or not to go to a service of remembrance in memory of Dr. Kirby.  It was organized by a friend of hers who I know through six degrees of separation.  I spent the morning writing something to say in case I decided not only to go, but also to stand up and speak.  Writing about her and her impact on me two months after was as difficult as it was in the days following her death.  And then I put on my big girl panties and went.  

The 30 minute drive to a small office park where the service was being held was appropriately rainy and dreary. When I first entered the room all I could notice was a large picture of Dr. Kirby with an expression of joy that I had seen on her face numerous times.  I felt like I was punched in the gut by sadness.  The next two hours were filled with some laughter and a lot of tears while numerous people stood up and spoke about her and their relationships with her.  Although I was hesitant to do it, I finally stood up and read my “speech.”  The tears were streaming down my face and the words blurred as I read a page and a half about the impact she had on my life.  As I was standing and shaking up there I was having immense doubts about what I was doing.  I finished and quickly rushed back to my seat.  

Dr. Kirby’s husband immediately came over and gave me a hug and thanked me for speaking.  That made it worth it for me.  In retrospect I am glad that I had and took the opportunity to share with some of her loved ones the significant role that she had played in my life in the short time that I knew her.  It was a sense of closure and closeness to be with others who understood what a truly warm, extraordinary and empathetic person she was.  I left in tears (I think I went through as many tissues as my 11 year old with allergies has recently) and got back into my car.  I had to sit for several minutes before I could drive back home to my family, somehow both fulfilled and drained emotionally.  

Once home I immediately went to my children for hugs.  Hard and tight ones.  Then we packed up the car and dropped each of them off for a night at a friend’s house.  Dan wanted to take me to dinner and a movie, and as much as I was excited for a date night, I opted for a quick sushi dinner followed by an exhilarating trip to Kroger for ice cream before heading for home.  

Now it is Sunday night and I am still processing the past few days and I’m more inclined to cry than I have been in several weeks.  I have to reach out, which I am trying to do, and also remind myself that this does not mean that I am sliding all the way back down.  I am handling things differently and facing some of my challenges.  And as I head into another work week I am going to keep this in mind.  If you see me and it looks like I need it, feel free to slap me (figuratively only please)!  Actually come to think of it, I think I would prefer a hug and a gentle reminder!