Tag Archives: sorrow

People Are Jumping Out Of Windows

I remember the second plane hitting and the towers falling.  I remember people running out of the city, the mass exodus across the Brooklyn Bridge, citizens coated in thick layers of dust and dirt and grime.  I remember smoke and fear and sorrow and shock.  What I remember most clearly, though, the first thing I ever think of when I hear “September 11” is people jumping out of windows.  I remember the horror of watching people just like me, taking a hopeless situation into their own helpless hands and jumping, falling, clothes and limbs flailing about as they plummeted to earth and eternity.  This is my clearest memory of that day.

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Sorry……sometimes life gets away……

Our internet connection over the past month has been sporadic at best.  Even if it had not, I still may not have been able to blog:  my sister graduated from college and moved home, my grandfather had major back surgery, my brother graduated from high school, my grandmother had abdominal surgery, I had a few weddings and bridal showers and a weekend spent with relatives in another city, a co-worker had to go on medical leave and I took over her hours, more than doubling my current work hours, and, well, all of a sudden, a month has passed me.  I do have some art to post, art which was done over a month ago and has just been waiting for some time on the blogosphere, so get excited. 🙂

However, today I got to work and learned that a client committed suicide over the weekend.  That’s a part of working at a counseling center that I had forgotten about, and I can’t put all of my thoughts and feelings into words, so I’m just gonna cry about it for a while.  The art and such can come later.

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The fear that she had cancer was keeping me awake at night.  Sometimes I had nightmares, sometimes I just tossed and turned, and occasionally I stared into nothingness.  I’ve been trying to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for the future losses of all of my grandparents, but for some reason, I deluded myself into thinking that Nana would either never go or she would be the last.  Now, she may leave me first, and my heart was aching.

Tonight was another one of those nights in which I was restless, trying to find that comfortable spot on the bed, fitfully trying to sleep.  Suddenly, it felt like she was there, like she was in my room.  I could sense her presence so strongly.  I didn’t move.  I could feel her soft, cool hand press against my forehead, the way she gently rests it there when I’m on the couch at her house and she thinks I’m asleep.  I cried.  I’ve heard stories like this:  people sensing the presence of a loved one just after that person has died. 

But she’s alive, and there is no cancer.

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