When There Are No More Shoes to Fall…

I just spent the last hour looking over my past entries, having been recently reminded that I still have this diary, and realized that, unfortunately, I tend to write when I’m hurting. And only then. I’d like to find more words for good times. I’ll make it a goal. But for now, I must proceed with my original post/update.

In the past 6 weeks, I have lost a co-worker, a best friend, and paid a visit to my remaining best friend who recently found out her husband stepped on a bomb in Afghanistan. He lived through it, miraculously, but has lost both of his legs, a few fingers, and is dealing with a minor (again I say, miraculously) brain injury. In expanded form…

The school year started off well. I am now in my 3rd year of teaching at this school and I continue to love it from every angle. My co-workers are not the multi-personalitied people teachers often become, needing a school face and a work face. They are beautiful people who just are who they are whether parents like it or not. That said, I have a wonderfully accepting boss who prefers it that way. I remember him once saying something to the effect of, "You know that online interview you all did before getting hired? There’s a question on there that says ‘How often do you follow the rules?’. Just so you know, none of you answered ‘100%’ of the time on that. That’s why I hired you. I don’t want a crew of lemmings." And to top it off, I get some of the best kids and parents in the state. They shower me with love and praise on a daily basis. Sure, I’ve had tough kids and some not-so-pleasant experiences, but that’s life. I’d say it’s just about as close to perfect as you get in the job field. (See? I CAN write happy words:)) It only started going bad this year when our coach went home the first week of school after passing out at school. After much convincing, he made an appointment with the doctor for that Friday…and didn’t wake up on Thursday. This was a devistating start to new year and left a dark cloud over the hearts of our students and teachers. It has been hard to walk past the gym each day without a heavy heart…

Two weeks later, my best friend called to tell me that her husband was being flown to Germany on a med flight after stepping on a bomb in Afghanistan. The next week was full of turmoil as she packed up her bags, took off for a 24 hour stay in Germany to fly back with her critically injured soldier, and waved goodbye to her New York life. Army wives packed her house up while she entertained surgeons in Maryland and waited for orders from her husband’s employer. She is now permanently stationed in Maryland, lives in a hotel but sleeps most nights in the hospital, and is functioning at 50% on her good days. She is a soldier too though, at heart, and if anyone is going to make it through this, it’s her.

What makes it all unbearable, though, is September 12th (The same day my best friend saw her husband for the first time after his injury…). I got a phone call before leaving school and heading to choir practice. It was a good friend of mine from AL that I hadn’t heard from in a while, so I joyously answered my phone’s nagging ring only to be greeted with a brief, dejected hello and the news that the third to K and I’s trio for the past 10 years had died the night before in a car accident. It didn’t even register at first. I thought he was talking about someone else. This friend was invinsible. He was a survival trainer, after completing a 3 month course on a whim in the wilderness. He was a diving instructor and a free diver on the side, as regular diving had lost it’s "thrill" over time. He was a yogi. He was fluent in Chinese, just for fun. He named all of his pets inappropriate Chinese words that sounded pretty. He was the friend who stopped the car on a bridge once and told me to get out of the car with him and scream as loud as I possibly could to the emptiness in front of us, because it would be good for me. I can still hear the echos of that night in my head…him screaming beside me. And tomorrow, they are floating a white diving tank signed by his million friends in his honor. It’s just not possible.

I don’t even know how to function right now. Some days, I’m fine. Other days, I’m locked up in my counselor’s office while she picks up my kids from assembly…and then I claim to have allergies when my kids ask why my eyes have been red all day. My world is entirely upside down…