Grieving The Goodbye With Grace

As midnight approaches and I get ready to say goodbye to May,

as we get ready to say goodbye to another school year this week,

and as I prepare to say goodbye to an office I moved in to back when we used dial-up to connect to the Internet, my thoughts turn to one of my favorite 

childhood characters, Winnie The Pooh.

It's been a month.

And what a month it has been.

A month since they told me I was being transferred.

A month of heartbreak and heartache.

A month of grieving the goodbye. 

Hard stuff.

So hard that some days it hurt to breathe.

Some days I felt sick to my stomach.

Some days I couldn't stop crying.

And I couldn't exactly figure out why.

That's important, you know, getting to the why.

Because once we know the why, we can get to the how.

It was this Thursday, on my mental-health day away from school,

 that something my sister said helped me get to the why. 

It's kind of like a divorce, she said. 

One that you didn't see coming. One that you don't want. And one that you're having trouble accepting. Of course you're grieving.

Amen. Someone gets it. And the pieces fell into place.

I was hurled into a separation I didn't ask for and don't want.

No wonder it hurts so bad. Yes, it makes sense to me now.

I understand why I haven't been myself.

It's not that I don't want to follow my kids next door,

or nurture the seeds I've planted, or experience them in the next age and stage. 

It's that I was blindsided by an unwanted break. 

One that shocked me.

And one that hurt. 

To the core.

I wish I could say that I've handled it with grace.

Some days were better than others, but this month,

this month has been really challenging.

Difficult at best.

A real character builder.

An emotional roller coaster. 

I've been sad and mad. 

And I've wanted to take my wounded pride and run away.

As fast and as far as I could.

The good news is that, day by day, I'm tenderizing

and that pride is turning toward grace. And gratitude.

I'm thankful for a new opportunity, for sure and

I'm ever so grateful to readers, family and friends

who've checked in on me and normalized my feelings.

Just yesterday, Sue (whom I look forward to meeting in real life one day) sent an email to make sure I was okay.

She validated the notion that counselors need a job that fits. 

And she said she was crying with me. 

There's that glorious virtue of empathy. 

I value that in a friend.

And it helped me move toward the how.

So tomorrow when I wake up, I'll be a year older.

And a lot of tears wiser.

It'll be a new month and another chance

to grieve the goodbye with grace.

And to move forward.

I'm lucky and abundantly blessed to have worked since dial-up in a school, 

where I've felt rooted while rooting for kids, 

where I've felt joy basking in the climate of caring, 

where I've always felt at home. 

We're starting the mural on the wall in my Counseling Cove in the morning, a nice first step into my new story.

Good grief; is that a twinge of excitement I'm feeling?

Grace ... it's a beautiful thing.