Ominous

Sometimes I think the world feels ominous.  Where is my breaking point?

First, there was Kim.

Then there was a former student, who passed away suddenly last week.

My mother had surgery on her heart this week.  She is doing well.  Thank goodness.  Hopefully out of the ICU tomorrow.  Every time I see her she is better than the time before and I am confident she is going to be all right.

On the layover to my parents’, I got a call from my friend at school.  A whole family died in a car crash.  All of them.  Three sweet boys from my classes and their parents.  Gone.  It doesn’t seem real.  Then I see their pictures in the news.  I just talked to them.  On Thursday.  They were all standing outside the teacher’s lounge, presumably to go to the basketball game the oldest was playing in.  The oldest was really excited about his classes’ music project.  He very badly wanted me to add a Michael Jackson song to the line up.  And was so persistent in trying to get me to play “Keyboard Cat” on YouTube.  The middle boy, always quick with a smile, was learning recorder.  Always trying his very best.  And the little one had just finished his first big music program.  He was so serious.  Like a little grown up.  I’m pretty sure he remembered everything I ever taught him.

I feel like the world is ominous.  And heavy.  While I’m here supporting my parents through my mom’s surgery, I’m not really dealing with the grief of my lost students, but I know it’s going to catch up to me soon.  Most of the time it’s easy to focus on other things, but each time I think about returning to school on Thursday, I see their faces.  And I am enormously sad.

Ponder

Why is it that I can’t get the childproof cap off the bottle of ibuprofen when I need it –

And the bottle somehow manages to get open in my purse on its own?

What is it about February that sends children into a frenzy?

My friend in the mental health field says that problems are significantly higher in February than any other month.

Weird.

I miss knitting.  And my knitting peeps.  I have at least 3 projects on the needles and I have no idea when they’ll get done.

Kim

I find I’m having a hard time writing about this.  A few hours ago, a mutual friend called to tell me of Kim’s passing.  I’ve written about her before.  In fact, it was just over a year ago. 

Kim and I met right after we were both diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer.  We live in the same town.  Heck.  We even have the same oncologist.  She was a devoted wife and mother.  And an artist, too.  I remember how sad she was she realized that her lymphedema risk would keep her from painting.  At Christmas and other holidays, she would share wonderful photographs of her children.  She had a great eye for that, too.  We went to our only Breast Cancer Support Group meeting together.  It was a wonderful group of women, but you know you’re different when the other patients suck in their breath in sympathy when they hear your age.  And your stage.  And that she was pregnant at the time.  Kim fought cancer hard.  And when she recurred, she had a renewed determination to live.  Brain radiation, clinical trials, and more chemo.  Until it didn’t work.  And now she’s gone.

My thoughts and prayers are with her beautiful family today.