"It's a death thing, you wouldn't understand."

I remember the last night. I remember Dad leading me outside to where Chelsea lay in the grass. I remember petting his soft body.
And when the morning came, I remember running down the hall from my room into Mom and Dad's. I remember sobbing, sobbing, knowing he was dead. He was gone. That memory spins, it's strange. It slides around and around in my head, ending with my three-year old eyes seeing the ceiling from where I was laying on their bed.
That was my first experience with grief. It certainly wasn't my last, but maybe animalian grief doesn't translate to the grief of human loss.
Is human loss just like any other loss? Is all loss inherently the same?

I've never lost someone close to me.
I've been to many funerals; I've seen people throughout the stages of grief. I've attended the funerals of the old, very old, and the young, middle aged. And I won't lie, I've never felt anything.
One day, I'll have to give someone I love to the afterlife. I know it'll be painful.
My biggest fear, the most pervasive, the one that strikes me at the most unexpected moments, is the loss of my mother. That loss hopefully won't come for a long time, but even when it does, I won't be ready.

Lise is readying herself for the loss of her husband; it's been a drawn-out process. I've been unable to figure out how to properly comfort. I feel helpless, even though I'm so removed from the situation. I've decided to listen, asking a few questions here and there and then offering support. Support, hardly, just a few words promising strength and future. It's hard for me to know what to do. I'm caught with the web of life. My life-giver is losing a life partner and I'm unfamiliar with the procedure. It shouldn't be procedural though.

Death is death, it comes swiftly or slowly but never not at all. It is the single commonality for our race, for everything living. To have life, there must be death.
I'm not afraid to die, but I'm afraid to live through the deaths of the people I love. I'm afraid of the things left unsaid, of the moments redirected, spent elsewhere instead of there. Loss from which there can be no gain. Peace after time. It's all so simple but so unknown.

Grief is fragile, a beautiful reminder of life. It's both necessary and humbling, human and sublime.


*This was a weird post. It didn't go at all like I had planned it.

I re-read it and went back. This is from a moment that nearly mirrored Chelsea's death for me. Sixteen years passed between the two, but when I heard the news from Mom, I hung up on her. I threw the phone down and broke down, choking on my own tears.
Oh I'll never forget that day. I took the call in my room, staring at my dark blue sheets and wooden bed. The carpet. Brown carpet. Desk against the wall. Her voice in my ear. Silver phone. Hurt squeezing my heart. Rage.
Here, a bit of grief. My loss of words is evident, my shock and pain masked.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

You never can keep the beautiful feeling for too long.
News this morning broke my heart.
I'll be back home soon to take care of things.
If things get bad enough, I'll stay for longer.
I don't even know what to do.
There is nothing to do, but wait.
He was brokenhearted too at the news.
I made her promise everything would be okay.
She did, but it took her too long.
I'm scared.
I cried for too long.
I couldn't breathe. It was one of those.
Make it okay, please.
I don't pray, but I might start.
I told Katie, and she cried



*I don't edit things. I don't ever look over anything. I just do it and then it's done. But tonight, for some reason, I'm re-reading. I must have left something unsaid.
But not wanting to end on such a miserable note (not even sure why I made this a miserable post, I'm in a good mood), I wanted to include my favorite blog entry ever. And when I say ever, I mean it. Grief is one thing, but nostalgia can be nearly pure bliss. A fond memory, then.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Dear Mom,

There they were, sitting at the bottom of a box left over from freshman year. The stamps.

Graduation is official!

I went downtown yesterday to do some mandatory academic advising, which consisted of me meeting with the assistant dean and  her telling me that I'm graduating. We went over the few discrepancies/requirements left on my transcript and got it all settled.
I told her I was sorry and she interrupted me before I could finish, saying, "You're dropping a minor aren't you?"
"No," I replied. "I'm adding another one. It's so late, I know."
She laughed and called me an overachiever to which I responded, no, I'm quite the underachiever, you'd be surprised.
All in all, I have the credits nearly completed and the requirements nearly done (my god I just need to pass statistics--which shouldn't be a horrible experience. I have no problem with tangible data, it's the process I can't do. Theorems escape me. I got from point A to point B, do I really need to know every step it took to get there?)
You are looking at a very nearly college graduate. I will have a major in Communication Studies with minors in English, Sociology and Women's/Gender Studies. ha, not bad considering this has been a wild four year run. Even with the Denver semester, I'm still going to be able to graduate on time (sort of...one summer class isn't bad) and then hopefully start school again in the fall.
I've decided to attempt to apply to DU for their MSW program starting in the fall. I may not have the experience, but I'm hoping to sway them with my writing skills which I consider on par with the greats. (The previous statement is a bold lie. I'm hoping they enjoy confidence or at least the pretense of it.) Anyway, if I don't get in (which I'm expecting will be the outcome), I'll stick to the original plan and get a job in DPS. However, if I get in (please, please) then I will be able to start the full-time two  year program in the fall.
I've been trying to get around doing it, but I just requested my transcripts from Loyola and need to do so from MSCD so it looks like I'm actually applying. I spent like two hours the other day trying to figure out how to write a curriculum vitae that makes me look like a thrilling, dynamic individual. On paper, I'm really lame. Personal interviews, however, are another thing. I'm engaging, entertaining, intelligent. Not really. But you know, it never hurts to try.

I'm procrastinating again. I should be reading the 30 pages of feminist literature I have due in an hour. But alas, I'm not.
 I found out yesterday that I not only have an ear infection but my first parking ticket of the year as well.
I'm getting nervous. This afternoon's task is write a resume (eek, I've done it before but for some reason it always leaves me feeling so inadequate), and then attempt to begin to tackle the seven page life response that they require. Other than that, it's just a check and some online forms I've already filled out. Pray for me or send me thoughts or something of a spiritual nature: I'll need it now more than ever.

Schedule

The morning has brought a much brighter outlook. Not necessarily sunny, but looking up.

I'm posting my schedule as much for me as for you.

Monday Wednesday and Friday:
-Fundamental Statistics at 11:30 -12:20  (STAT 103)

(The statistics class is the math core requirement, which has remained open after the logic fiasco.)

Monday nights:
-Advanced Reporting from 7:00-9:30 downtown (CMUN 315)

(Ugh. I swore I would never do anything journalistic again. I'm good at it, I just really hate reporting for some reason. I needed this class for the Civic Engagement Requirement --it was either that or a social work class that I couldn't make due to a Spanish conflict.)

Tuesday Thursday:
-Introduction to Women and Gender Studies 8:30-9:45 (WSGS 101)
-Feminism and Gender Topics 11:30-12:45 (ENGL 307)
-Spanish 1:00-2:15 (SPAN 102)

Thursday nights:
-Introduction to Social Work 7:00-9:30 downtown (SOWK 200)

(I just added this class today thinking that I don't need the human reproduction class that I was in, but instead, it might be nice to try out social work before I try to do it for a living. I don't know if you remember, but I was thinking about majoring in social work for awhile but then decided against it because communications offers such a broader spectrum of employment opportunities. While I'm not thrilled about having a Thursday night class, it opens up my afternoons so that I might be able to do some more volunteer work/get in a yoga class/do some more childcare.

Seeing it out for the first time makes it look easier than I had previously thought. I tried to add a seventh class so that I could just finish everything up and not have to take summer classes, but they're still blocking it. So I guess if I'm going to have to pay extra, I might as well wait until the summer to do it. I can do the first six week session (the second is out now because of jury duty and the big move) and then be done with it by the middle of June.

For a senior in college, there are a surprising amount of 101 classes. I know this. I finished my major so long ago and am just now cleaning everything up. I won't lie, I didn't do so well at the long term plan during my first couple of years of school. 

Life is strange and beautiful.

Before I get all moody as I am prone to doing, I'd like to share with you a travel tip I learned today: Don't correct TSA employees on their grammar, not even under your breath. They have sharp hearing. 


I sat in my car and sobbed, letting hot tears fall down my face and down under my chin.
I sat in the dark and in the cold and cried.
My fingers hurt, a pain extending form the core of my palms.
I know it's the exhaustion. I just need sleep and in the light of tomorrow I'll feel better. Easy enough, but not quite.

Life is strange and beautiful. I love being able to feel so deeply but I hate it. One of the biggest strengths to my character is my ability to truly feel the emotion I'm feeling. It's also the worst detriment. I love the exuberance of youth, the feel of an arm thrust out the window of a speeding car, the music, the mountains, the joy. I let myself feel it, unrestrained. And then I feel the equal but opposite reaction. The empty, the alone. Rebuilding. Renewing. blah blah blah I hate people who preach change but I'm holding onto that sentiment with all I have.

I'm here and there's so much to do. Simon looks terrible. The window is horrible. I can hardly see out of it. The car was not left in good condition---there's much cleaning to be done, both inside and out. The house, my room, the big black bag of clothes that desperately needs donated. Time is marching forward. Shopping for school supplies is a must do on the list for tomorrow.

Emily and I made dinner and are watching a movie.

Perseverance, however. I am applying to DU for fall admission. I don't want to wait a year. I may not get in, but at least I tried. If I am rejected, which I am fully expecting, I will spend the year building my experience base through volunteering and lots of field experience before reapplying next year.  So either way I'll be doing either DU or hopefully a DPS job.  Only problem is that I have ten days to get the application in. Deadlines, deadlines. I've enlisted Maddie as my unemployed life coach to help me get this all situated. Keep yours fingers crossed, dear readers.