Something happened that is not my news to share, but it is so surreal and awful and I don't really know what to do. I am going to do the only things that I can: listen, be present, be one of the first to show up and among the last to leave. I'm trying to gather resources, tucking away nuggets of wisdom and faith, and bookmarking links to places that might serve as a refuge for people who might need them later. It's not enough.
But at least I know how not to be. I am acknowledging pain, offering warmth, sending cards, keeping in touch, returning phone calls and jumping on the text messages the second my phone bleeps. I'm newly resolved to acknowledge all the birthdays- those celebrations of ability to ride this rock around the sun for another year- even if I haven't talked to the celebrants since I left S.U.
Happy birthday, Josh. You matter.
Deep breaths. I wish I didn't know firsthand that grief bubbles over, backtracks and circles back around when you least expect it. Grief: the emotional roller-coaster that knows how to parallel park. Sigh.
I wish I could forget about the peanut butter cookies that I was too shy and needlessly intimidated to take when offered with so much kindness, hospitality, and fatherly love. So much EFFORT. He saw right through me, and set them next to the generator-powered TV blaring the Winter Olympics, just in case.
Tomorrow and Friday are going to hurt like fuck, and I'm only on the tertiary.