Christmas in Heaven

And so it goes. 4 years ago, my dad died semi-unexpectedly. School ends on a Wednesday this year; I'm understanding and easygoing about furlough days in general, but it fucking stings to deal with December 19th and the last day of school before Christmas vacation all in one go. The last time those happened simultaneously was when Greg died.

I'm not gonna lie, these have been rough days. Last Friday's tragedy has laid heavy on my heart and filled me with loss. I couldn't stop thinking about those grieving families and the wrapped gifts in their closets that will never be opened by the intended hands. It brought back terrible memories of sitting on the floor, unwrapping my father's gifts myself that I'd bought and wrapped for him, tearing the paper into long thin strips and staring off into space. I wonder who's gonna deal with those presents- and I beat myself up for obsessing about something so frivolous in a time of such great sorrow.

It hasn't all been black dogs barking- we had a class meeting in which I told my kids, "I can't promise we're all going to always be safe. Nobody can make that promise. All I can promise you is that I will always do everything, EVERYTHING, that I can to keep you safe and to take care of you." And I grasped each small hand and said "Good Morning," like I always do, and I hugged them tight at the end of the day, and all the hours in between I rested my hand on their heads or squeezed their shoulders and smiled. Some of those kids waited alone all through that awful weekend for someone to reassure them, to hold them, to listen to them. They come from broken homes or neglectful families or shelters- I did my small part as their teacher, and in my head I was so very grateful for the love and reassurance I grew up with at home. I was grateful for my family and where I came from. And so I did the best I could for them, and I tried to take a little care of myself too.

It always comes back to letting go of anger, and injustice, and feeling grateful for what I've got and have had in my father. Lately I've been imagining a blue column of water inside myself, in my very center, and it's always there. It doesn't mean I'm not allowed to get angry or frustrated or sad- storms pass and the water roils- but I know the waves will calm and the darkness will fade and I will return to a state of peace. Peace is  always there inside me, while the other feelings come and go. 4 years later and I still love Greg and miss him so much. My heart goes out to those whose loss is still raw....