We lost another co-worker last week.
What is this – the 10th in the past 15 years? Or is it a dozen? I’ve lost count.
I don’t know what to make of loss anymore.
It used to be, I’d experience a loss – even a catastrophic one like when my Mom died – and I would move through it, and years would pass, and the hole would get a little smaller, and the sadness would lessen. I was able to reason it out. It’s just part of life. I was even kind of proud of my ability to survive and thrive after loss. What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger, right?
But I dunno anymore. I don’t feel like I’m processing losses properly. Stuff just kind of… happens. And it hits me, and I take the hit. I feel like I’ve been hit, but it doesn’t hurt. I just add it to the various facts stored in my head. “It’s 2010. The sky is blue. I live in California. I am alive. Karin Duran is dead. Karen Berkeland is dead. Joe Dabbour is dead. Antonio Calvo is dead. KC Sluter is dead. My mother is dead. My sister is dead.” And I just… keep moving forward, to quote “Meet the Robinsons”.
Hopefully, as long as I do that – as long as I keep moving forward – I’ll be okay.
But I do grow so, so weary of the losses…