Remember how a child's birthdays go (or at least they used to)? Big parties for the big birthdays...1, 2, 5, 10, 16, 18, 21 or something like that. This year isn't a 'big' year and I guess that is good. I have a few friends who have been to the bigger years. I haven't asked how that goes. I think 10 years will be a 'big' year. My heart breaks for my friend who will have that anniversary soon.
Grief is different now. The fog is gone, the jelly-thick air is gone, the crushing mornings are gone...I am grateful that these things are over for the most part. I'm in a new era. A different phase. A part of grief that the writers don't write about as much. A part that is unknown and but not scary; a part that is a little bit unpredictable and strange. A part that other people will not, and can't be expected to, anticipate or be terribly compassionate towards.
It doesn't spiral up or down or go in circles like I talked about in my early blogs. It strikes like sky lightning. Not the spears of lightning that strike the earth and start fires, but the big lightning that lights up the whole sky and is followed by rumbling, growling thunder. And it comes from nowhere like a midafternoon storm in Florida. One minute you are sitting at the beach, enjoying the sun, and 5 minutes later the thunder is rumbling and its time to pack up and run.
I'm a happy, optimistic person; always have been. I'm not a bubbly, social, exuberant type...don't confuse the two. I just have always been able to see the future in a good way and never anticipate anything bad happening. I'm completely surprised that hasn't changed about me. I still don't worry needlessly much. I still don't anticipate bad endings for anything. I am a happy person. I can't imagine how someone who does not have that internal mindset goes through grief; I'm sure it is completely different than my journey. I, long ago, stopped reading books about grief because it was pick and choose about what fit and what didn't. It is a completely personal, individual experience.
A song, a picture, a smell, a sudden memory. Something that happens all the time, but just this one time, it makes me cry. Driving past a place I drive by everyday, but just this one time, it strikes with a memory. A song comes on the radio, but just this one time, the tears flow. Someone sends me a message, but just this one time, I have a flash of anger. Like sky lightening, it is ok. It is safe. Crying happens, but it passes. There is no danger of falling into a place I can't get out of.
Today was a pretty typical day. Today went like this: Reading the essays submitted by the returning RA's, candidates for the Michaela Thomas Heart of the RA scholarship and thinking about her journey. Eating a hot dog and remembering a little girl complaining that her hot dog was 'too flavorful' to eat. Updating the pictures on the wall, changing out everyone for more current pictures, but leaving some pictures just the same. Hearing a song on the radio that speaks to my soul and the soul of my daughter...because 'In my daughter's eyes everyone is equal'...a topic that has been very close to my heart and the heart of our country. And just letting the tears flow, because that is the best way to let it happen. For me.
But in my daughter's eyes, everyone was equal. Everyone. White, Black, Hispanic, man, woman, gay, straight, bi, transgender....it doesn't matter. My daughter had no prejudice. I would like to say that I taught her that, but that would be a lie. It was just part of who she was. Even when she was angry, during African American Studies (when the teacher told her to watch her hubris, but he really meant to be aware of her privilege) in college, when she felt she was being discriminated against, when she said she was becoming prejudiced because of the class...she wasn't really. It wasn't part of her. It wasn't someone she could be. And I learned it from her. She didn't learn it from me. Sure I said all the right things and hopefully I did the right things, I tried anyway, but I learned how to really feel it and live it from her.
We are here to love each other and help each other and if you don't want to be a part of that, stay out of the way and out of my sight.
Michaela was an amazing human being, and that was me knowing her in just a blink of an eye.
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