21 years.
That's the refrain that has been playing in my mind since I saw the date on a student's assignment. 21 years since she died.
I've been thinking about this a lot recently. About how it doesn't get easier. And how I'm still trying to unlearn the lessons I've been studiously rehearsing for more than half my life, the lessons that I've learned by rote and that are now second nature. Here's the lesson I've learned: I'm good at being left.
A few weeks ago Ben and I were talking about what we wanted done after we died. He suggested a memorial bench in my honor at Geneva. I almost hurled at the thought of future students making out on that bench). And I brought myself up short, because I realized I didn't really expect him to carry out any of my plans, because I would be the one left.
Last week I was thinking about what my widowhood would look like. And I brought myself up short, because I realized that I expected to be the one left.
As I talked with my brother this week about the our family, I realized that I had very few expectations of my family being there for me or choosing me. I really don't expect to matter to them. And I brought myself up short, because I realized that I expected to be the one left.
So, it seems that 21 years ago what I learned more than anything else is that I can survive being left. I think I hold many things tenuously, because to have them ripped out of my hands is just too much. Too much to bear again. So I hold loosely, and expect to be left.
Oh, but, Jesus, I think I learned the wrong lesson. I learned the survival lesson. I learned how not to hold on too tightly. But can You help me unlearn this one? I can't even envision what the right lesson is. I need you to teach me that, too.
That's the refrain that has been playing in my mind since I saw the date on a student's assignment. 21 years since she died.
I've been thinking about this a lot recently. About how it doesn't get easier. And how I'm still trying to unlearn the lessons I've been studiously rehearsing for more than half my life, the lessons that I've learned by rote and that are now second nature. Here's the lesson I've learned: I'm good at being left.
A few weeks ago Ben and I were talking about what we wanted done after we died. He suggested a memorial bench in my honor at Geneva. I almost hurled at the thought of future students making out on that bench). And I brought myself up short, because I realized I didn't really expect him to carry out any of my plans, because I would be the one left.
Last week I was thinking about what my widowhood would look like. And I brought myself up short, because I realized that I expected to be the one left.
As I talked with my brother this week about the our family, I realized that I had very few expectations of my family being there for me or choosing me. I really don't expect to matter to them. And I brought myself up short, because I realized that I expected to be the one left.
So, it seems that 21 years ago what I learned more than anything else is that I can survive being left. I think I hold many things tenuously, because to have them ripped out of my hands is just too much. Too much to bear again. So I hold loosely, and expect to be left.
Oh, but, Jesus, I think I learned the wrong lesson. I learned the survival lesson. I learned how not to hold on too tightly. But can You help me unlearn this one? I can't even envision what the right lesson is. I need you to teach me that, too.
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