For you, my friends, what helps you process change, relieve sadness, and move on? Putting on your sneakers and running it out? A funny movie? A margarita with a friend? Prayer? What gets you through?
My boys are off to college. I'm grieving. The worst part is, my husband is too. We are like two gray clouds hovering ominous around the house, waiting for the blue skies of the Thanksgiving holiday.
Yesterday, I don't know what happened. Rob and Beth left for school. Kate and Danika backed out of the driveway to start their day of school, cheerleading at a game and a sleep-over at a friend's house. The house is big and empty.
I got to work on time. There wasn't anyone to pick up after or blame for my tardiness.
Rob and I work together and the office this week has felt like the eye of a hurricane...still and looming. We are between bank deposits and Christmas orders. We are waiting on factories to make our new games and then ship them to us, so we can pile them on the sleigh in time for Ho Ho Ho.
Yesterday it was eerily quiet.
We helped each other with orders that just one of us would usually manage.
I heard a song on the shipping computer and all of a sudden, my face started sprinkling.
I can't remember the song. It doesn't matter. Any would trigger the tear ducts.
Soon, I couldn't control the downpour on my shirt. Rob just shook his head and hugged me.
We went home for lunch opting out of going out because my eyes were just one smeared Cyclops.
I stayed home after lunch, and watched the last half of Mr. Hollund's Opus. Yes, I boo hooed.
I called my Mom and my Stepdad answered. I was afraid of that. He asked if I was ok and I said, "No." Then I cried some more. It was a new moment for Mike and me. He laughed and consoled when I complained that I couldn't quit weeping.
"You'll be ok. You're just like every other mom. You miss them and soon you'll feel better when you see how well they will do. This is a reward for all you and Rob have done for your kids. It's why you took them to church, to see them well-adusted and successful. It's part of letting go."
At the end of the day, if my eyes could talk, this is what they would have said, "We're tired, we're sad, we're red and swollen. Please put us to bed."
Today, I'm better, as I wipe just a few tears away.