So, here we are. The end of the first decade of this millennium. Seems momentous, right?
Time has moved differently for me in this decade. It's compressed, squozen, flipped, and turned in on itself. There are frozen blocks of time inside my head--two massive, icy sheets that float to the top and obscure everything else.
It is perpetually December 2005 and August 2007.
But, somehow, time still manages to flow beneath.
I organized my desk last week and spent a few minutes marveling at my level of production during 2010. It felt like I did nothing but fret about C and my widowed mother and wonder how I could have saved R but the pile of paper on my desk indicates that I'm actually a highly productive and organized worker bee. Go figure!
Who is this person who manages to accomplish so much? She's so orderly. Her emails are so informative and polite.
I saw Sybil and Sally Field made this all look very dramatic. I thought that my other personalities would be more...flamboyant. I guess I'm just a bureaucrat,even at the very core of my being.
On paper 2010 was actually a banner year for the mommicked family. A new house, a new job for T, C has been declared perfectly normal by her preschool teachers.
But, you know, happiness just doesn't sing like it used to.
We can't move forward with my Dad and R in tow. Each step down the path leaves them a little further behind.
At the same time, letting go doesn't hurt like it used to.
I guess that's the story on 2010--we've evened out, righted the ship, slipped on our normal suits and zipped them all the way up to our chins.
Time heals, if you're willing to do some work.
I have to thank all of you for your assistance with helping me rediscover my inner workaday drudge. I think of this place and all of your blogs as a sort of virtual teacher's lounge. After a long day of setting a good example for the kids, I can stumble in, utter a few cusses, and tug off the pantyhose. I can tell a crass joke. I can tell you exactly what I think of little Jimmy's dreadful mother. And then I can pull myself back together and head back out feeling placid and capable.
Thank you and best to all of you for the coming year.
I hope 2011 only brings good (or boring) things your way.
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I think this perfectly describes my happy/sad about 2010:
ReplyDeleteEach step down the path leaves them a little further behind.
I think we are close to normalizing too, but part of me clings to the rage, the complete instability that propelled me through 2009 and part of 2010. I think because it kept the memory of our daughters close at hand. The memories are still there/here, but softer, kinder, not so sharp around the edges, and I still don't know how I feel about that.
But things are getting better, I think. And I think I have this space to thank for it as well.
A very happy 2011 to you and the fam, T. Really hope to see you soon.
What a great post! I love the teachers' lounge simile--very fitting. Hoping the next decade is much kinder to us all--heck, the next month would be great.
ReplyDeleteHappy New Year :)
Now that you say it, I think 2010 was a transition ear for me too. I feel much 'further' on my grief journey.
ReplyDeleteI hope 2011 is even better for you!
Yeah, it is totally like the teacher's lounge of my imagination. Everyone is nice and agrees with your rants. 2010 was a transition year for me too, I think, but I don't quite know how yet. I am grateful for you and your friendship. Immensely grateful. With love. I hope your inner bureaucrat remains staid and true. Mine always turns anarchist before I really get things organized. xo
ReplyDeleteTo me, everyday, it feels like just yesterday that she died. It is always that close.
ReplyDeleteGreat post. Toasting 2011 with you.
(Sorry I'm late!)
Yes, this is it - "But, you know, happiness just doesn't sing like it used to."
ReplyDeleteWishing the same for you and your family in this new year.