But I confess; it was good to be back. I guess, if you spend eight hours a day with the same people, every day, that you sort of get used to being around them. I hadn’t been good about keeping them in the loop while I was away dealing with all this craziness… and I realized that oddly, I feel more at peace today. The sound of them puttering about their offices or of Sherry warming up her stroganoff… it was really unexpectedly comforting. I wanted to run into their offices and tell them I missed and loved them, but I didn’t because it’s weird.
My other co-worker Kris made the mistake of coming wordlessly into my office, and putting her arm around my neck. Any show of sympathy just makes me lose it. I am in this persistent state of fugue where I am at the precipice of tears—and the mere drop of a hat could set me off. I ended up blubbering on her; and it felt very nice, honestly. I’m not used to doing that… just being free with tears with people—but with these ladies, after five years in close quarters, I’m more comfortable doing it. Most of the time, I have this mindset that emotional outbursts are an imposition; and that it’s best to retrench and retreat when you feel it coming rather than soak someone’s shoulder. But in the past years, I’ve been learning otherwise. It felt good just to cry a bit. I’ve had some moments of weakness; but all mostly with my husband at the wee hours of the morning. Seeing how they and my boss were so understanding makes me want to cry all over again. I’m so lucky, and I don’t even know how to begin to thank them. I’ll think of some way. Especially to Sherry, who deserves cake and puppies for what she’s done.
I have the shakes today. Anxiety I’m guessing… I saw Tag on Saturday, but I am going to see him today. I felt myself sort of just forgetting on Saturday, and it was nice to just feel normal even for a little bit.
I’ve been sorting through family photos lately. My family was never one for documenting every moment of the family’s development and putting them on walls… in fact, I would be jealous of my friends whose homes had walls crammed full of photographed moments hanging in frames all over their house. We never did. But my family did have some albums of snapshots taken here and there. My youngest brother however, ever the Doctor Destructo of the family, got hold of them, and many photos were torn or destroyed with little to no intervention from the parental units. So back in the early nineties, when I was still living with them, I started taking pictures and trying to rescue them. My mother pitched a crazy-fit when she came to my house for the wedding and found out that I had all these pictures; but frankly, if I hadn’t taken them, they probably wouldn’t exist today.
This scrap was among some of the salvaged pictures… that’s Daddy in his signature orange boots and that’s me clinging to him in tears in sorrow that he might ski away. I loved my daddy. I still do.
Monday, when we were at the funeral home looking at urns, they had a casket showroom. They had this casket displayed, the top door open, with a military uniform draped over the silken padding, and the uniform’s hat propped on the closed bottom half. I felt faint and nauseous the moment I saw it. My knees went weak and I had to go sit down. I felt as if there was something horrible about displaying the whole thing like a Sears retail display… Your loved one could be here! I nearly barfed.
Luckily, Hubby was there. He's always been here, through all of this. I am glad to finally be doing things that feel normal... my sisters arrive this afternoon, so it won't be normal for quite a while... but there's comfort in the familiarity of work. Hopefully I'll be able to focus a bit.