I need to say goodbye to 2012. It was a year I kept saying good bye, but the
words never fully connected to my brain. I have been stuck in a circular grief
that I have refused to acknowledge.
It started with the
impending demise of the company that Dean had left his job of 28 yrs. He took a huge pay cut, but the opportunity of
working close by, great benefits, and more time off was a dream. It wasn’t long before he was laid off and the Company’s
future was looking grim. The company
went bankrupt and more than the loss of income the loss of insurance was overwhelming.
My medications without insurance were over $1500.00 a month. The only sensible
decision was for me to take an early retirement. I would be able to purchase
health insurance and have approximately 60.00 left for a pension. I dutifully followed all the rules of
retirement, sending my letter of resignation, not stepping foot on school
grounds for thirty days, handing in my keys.
I loved my job. I loved my co-workers. I loved the kids. I was devastated and in
some fuzzy state of denial kept saying, it will be fine, I will be fine, I am
fine. I wasn’t fine. I kept moving and when my son and daughter-in-law began
talking about selling their small house on the lake. I became obsessed with
buying it. It was a perfect for us to purchase, small and warm with an
incredible view. We would have to put our home of 26 years on the unforgiving housing
market. My husband had acquired a new albeit temporary job as maintenance in a
factory in Grand Rapids. It paid
well. He also worked seven days a week.
I began sorting, clearing, removing twenty-five years of
living. Truckloads left, and sentimentalism
was blocked off by the ultimate goal of selling. The world map and early
nineties movie posters were scraped off walls replaced by subdued paint. The shag carpet that I had pulled up so long
ago then earnestly painted lay scratched and dirty, sad reminders of chipped dolphins and earth symbols
weeping for children long gone. The toys in dusty boxes, covered in cellulose
insulation, rows and rows, piles and piles, of silent innocence, unwanted,
discarded with childhood.
Reality is no longer
being someone’s daughter and the knowledge that you have for most purposes been
retired from motherhood. Two pivotal identities pushed into the recycle truck.
An automaton feverishly working blocking out the present
until my replacement child Maude, my dog from her birth ceased to breathe.
Grief erupted as I stroked her fur, holding her paw, as violent sobs wracked my
body. Every mistake, every loss, every
unspoken truth pelted me.
I need to let go and say goodbye to my parents, my job, my house,
my motherhood, my dog. What a wonderful life it was and so much more
to discover.
Greetings to 2013 I am ready to begin again.
