At some point the upsetting news will stop pouring in, right? There’s just been so much loss lately… I no longer feel confident that I know how to walk through this world. I thought I understood— sure, there’s sadness, but that’s how we appreciate the happiness. Loss and emptiness are a part of life from time to time, but so is the fullness of love and joy. There’s a balance. It’s a mixed bag, right?
Sunday
And part of the trick of living is figuring out how to accept that sadness so you can also accept the joy. One doesn’t exist without the other. I knew that. And I’ve tried to let the low moments teach me how to appreciate the good moments— the moments of sunshine reflecting off the snow on a lazy Sunday morning… the moments of laughter with writing friends on Zoom before the work day begins…
Monday
But it’s been hard to keep sight of that— the idea of taking the good in with the bad. The idea that the sun shines after a storm. The fucking cliches and platitudes, man. That’s all life seems to be full of these days.
And they’re not appeasing me. Not when old friends show their true colors in truly disconcerting ways— in ways that make you question why you were ever friends with them in the first place.
Tuesday
Confusion. That’s what I feel this week.
Wednesday
Because there were good moments. I had a few relaxing evenings full of tea and brainstorming… I hashed out story ideas with Taranne and Christina, who were kind enough to listen and offer up their thoughts. The Black Cat Crew— that’s what I call our morning writing group because most of us have black cats (I still feel Sammy’s presence here)— was a daily respite. Ben and I got a lot of work done on our pathways project that we think will be very beneficial for many of our students. And my tenure meeting went well!
I also got a surprise care package from Amanda on Wednesday. It showed up in the middle of the critique group and put a big smile on my face and tears in my eyes. The bag was full of mangoes, blueberries, Ticonderoga pencils, contact solution, and a photo album of Sam and me that Amanda had put together and ordered online.
Thursday
I don’t understand how things like that could exist in a week that ended with such heartbreaking news. How could I have been so excited to win the stupid solitaire game Gaps in one round on my lunch break? How I could share so many laughs with Ben as we worked on our project? How is it possible my writing community was such a joy this week?
And does the heartbreaking news negate all of that? For surely all those little moments are fully eclipsed by the news that came Friday, and had it not been for this photo journal, I would hardly remember any of them. How do we hold on to anything good?
Friday
On Thursday evening, Amanda had to take little baby Levi to the hospital because he’d spiked a sudden fever. Less than 24 hours later, he had no brain activity. They had to gather family and then let him pass.
I sat at my piano and played the sad songs I know, and sang the sad lyrics I know to no one but my hazy reflection in the window. Looking back at me was someone who felt utterly helpless, hopeless, haggard. Worn out and worn down. Empty.
Saturday
And I knew that it was nothing compared to what Amanda was feeling.