Watching Myself

A week ago today, nearly to the very hour, I got the call that my favorite Joseph's House resident had died, suddenly and unexpectedly. Ethan was a quiet, unassuming man and though I have always known that I love him, I did not know that he was my favorite until he was gone. I did not know how important he was to my life until he was no longer there. My body entered into grief while my mind and spirit lingered in disbelieving shock. Nearly immediately I noticed tension in my neck, my shoulders, my legs. My chest felt tight and I found it hard to breathe. I was and am still achy, as if I have done an intense workout. I did not know that I could carry sorrow physically like this.

The past week has been strange. For much of it, I have felt like a spectator watching someone who looks and talks just like me go through the motions of my life. Getting out of bed has never been so difficult. I watch myself get up, get ready, go to work. And to be honest, I have been so grateful for and proud of this Neshia who is living my life for me. She made it to work everyday, even though Ethan's prominent absence made it feel like I was arriving at Joseph's House for the first time all over again, and she was wonderful. I watched myself taking care of the other residents, refusing to not love them with all I have even though I am reeling from the results of the loss that comes when that kind of relationship is severed. I watched myself genuinely laugh and feel joy with others in spite of the sorrow. I watched myself bravely come to the dinner table that my intentional community gathers at every night. Normally, that table is a place of restoration for me, but this week it has been intimidating. So much gets shared there, but what I have to share feels too big, too painful for our wobbly, wooden table. So I watched myself come anyway and was glad that this Neshia was bold enough to be in community for me instead of curled up under my covers where the rest of me wanted to be.

This strange, compassionate self of mine went in my place and spent time with my younger brother and his 8th grade class on their East Coast trip. She stood up for me, and then lovingly held me as I sobbed, when the relative I have worshipfully loved and tried to please all my life said that I was not strong enough to do the work that I am doing and should reconsider my career goals, comments perhaps even more hurtful than the premature death of my dear friend. This other Neshia managed all my e-mails, phone calls, texts, and even bought my sister a sweet 16 gift. She has been great, and as each day gets a little easier and I come little by little back to my full self, I am glad that this is who I am. She is strong, kind, laughs, and loves without fear and one day I will wake up and not even realize that I am fully her again.

I am also extremely grateful for the others in my life who have been there completely and with their full selves to carry me this week. My housemate Liz, who found me alone in my dark bedroom gasping through my tears, and crawled into my bed to hold me to her heart. Thanks, Kitten. I appreciate all of the ways that you have loved me this week, and I want you to know that each small act was a huge comfort to me. My amazing co-workers and friends at Joseph's House who have held the sacred mourning space and lived through and because of the sorrow with bowls of ice cream and Fruit Loops, shared memories of Ethan, and lots of loving touches. No grief can undermine how blessed I am to be exactly where I am. To the admissions committee who accepted me into my grad program for next year without interviewing me. That did a lot for my self-worth this week. A professor from college whose e-mail was filled with pride and love for me. I was deeply moved and hope I will grow to be half the healer you are. My spiritual director, who thinks even in my utmost brokenness that I am a gift. What a grace.

This was not what I imagined this post to be. I had a plan and it was going to be great. But for whatever reason, this was what needed to be written so you will just have to read my Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants musings tomorrow. Until then, thank you, whoever you wherever you are. By reading this, you also help carry me. Even when it hurts, I still think we need each other.