Blah Blah Hum Bug

Blah Hum Bug

Sitting here looking at Christmas in 4 boxes, a huge sigh of relief escaped my body. It’s finally over.  I survived: One of the toughest Christmas’ on record is over.  I have packed it away. The holiday season has not been a merry one.  The absence of one of my children caused me great distress the entire season.

I had those visions inspired by commercials of my wayward child miraculously coming home. You know the one where the son arrives home unexpectedly on a snowy morning to be greeted by his little sister; this little sister had no such greeting.  No such coffee was poured, no song sung, there was no snow.

 I was more joyful today taking down the decoration than I was at Thanksgiving putting them up. I rejoiced that I would not have these painful reminders jingling in my face.  Santa would not be hanging on every kitchen door knob, no snowman on every hand towel.   I can hear Dickens' Scrooge grumbling in my head. My foul mood would’ve surpassed his on any given day this season. I’ve literally dared those ghosts to visit me. I’d have chased them back to their starry graves, robes flapping in horror had they visited.

When I thought about this blog I realized I was not the only one in my world that had a not so merry season.  I have loved ones who endured more. They have suffered the loss of a loved one, the loss of good health, experienced the end of a marriage, a relationship, a job.

The holidays are meant to be joyful. For many of us, it was a time of great stress.   We were forced to respond to those Holiday greetings, forced to respond to questions about how we are doing. Personally I tried to respond happily, I couldn’t fool everyone.

I’ve tried to pack my foul mood away with all the tree trimmings, Santa Clauses and brightly colored stockings.  One stocking remains hanging. It will remain hanging for as long as it takes.

May 2012 be a year of new beginnings, healing and hopefulness.

As long as it takes.

Recovery

This week another tragedy occurred at my University, the University where I earned my degree, the University where I work, the community in which I’ve called Home for 31 years. It’s the second in four years.  I was not on campus when it happened either time. The first time I was home recovering from a mastectomy, this time I was home with a minor illness.

Both times I spent time on the phone with my friends relaying information from television coverage: Trying to maintain a balance of information from social media and what they couldn’t see from their offices on campus.   It was an unnerving and frightening afternoon.  I felt an overwhelming sense of panic again for everyone. Thursday’s events stirred up memories of 4 years ago. Painful, scary memories

 No one in the community goes untouched by these tragic actions.

When the all the clear was given some 4 hours later, we emerged from our places and begin to ask why, begin to grieve.  We are very small community with a major University sitting in our midst. A University that we love, with students that are our life force, A University full of the best and the brightest individuals, ready to learn, ready those lessons with the world, to make it a better place.  Thursday their hearts were broken, their peace shattered.

We have been through this before. We will wrap our arms around each other, hold each other up and get through this.   Previously we have taken our grief and turned it into volunteer projects across the world.   We again will turn this around.  We can’t see this vision right now. The pain and questions blur our vision, but it is there.  It will come. Give it time.

Rest easy  my Hokie Nation, you are mine and I am yours.  Forever my love and support.

For our Fallen Hokie, Thank you.  Rest forever in Peace.