My last call would be to myself

A new-old colleague (that happens a lot in this field) sent me this Friday:

That Discomfort You’re Feeling Is Grief

So I asked my friends on Facepayges, how they are doing with this coronavirus thing.

Half are getting by or close enough to fine. The rest are struggling. But they don’t want to say it on a public-ish post.

I never gave my answer.

Which is this.

I moved to D.C. what seemed like mere minutes after 9/11. I drove past the smoldering Pentagon for a long time before the building was repaired and eventually the shiny new construction — clearly a cleaner, brighter color than the rest of the weathered building — started to blend in with the rest.

Shortly thereafter, we were zigging and zagging across parking lots and gas stations, trying not to be hit by the D.C. sniper.

Fast-forward a couple decades, I was going through Some Shit last August when two mass shootings happened in a weekend.

And I took the opportunity to say what was in my mind and heart.

Either the feelings were temporary insanity or maybe the need to express them was.

But I didn’t need for it to be received well. Or at all. I just needed to say it.

I will leave the aftermath out of this post. I’ll only say, no goddamn wonder. And that must have been some picture.

My answer about how I am is that I’m always on guard.

And when I stop being guarded for a while, I soon find myself grieving either the thing or the decision itself to believe in the thing.

Today, it’s a one-two punch of missing my old job/team and still not jibing with the WFH routine I started long before it was forced on the masses.

Of wondering if he weren’t him and she weren’t her and I weren’t me, what would or wouldn’t be.

In any event, it feels like a lot of that wanting to tell people they are loved is happening right now.

Not saying goodbyes, but at least making sure they don’t die with words unsaid.

Not me.

I am taking this opportunity to tell anyone who needs to fuck off, to fuck right the hell off.

When this is all over, I’ll be saying it in person. Or though a Ouija board.



Comments closed.