Summer is over. I wrote nothing this summer. I'm not really sure why. I guess it was a combination of just BEING in summer, instead of analyzing it, thinking about it, writing about it. It was also not a super happy summe for me. There wasn't really anything particularly or specifically bad about it, but I struggled with some left over grief over my dad's death, and struggled to face and accept some of the changes I knew were awaiting me at the end of the summer. And the longer I went without writing, the worse I felt about not writing, which made me even less able to start again. Finally, this week, I knew I wanted to write again, and decided who cares if I haven't written for two months. So, here I am again, for better or for worse.
Sadly, September is always the month of adjustment for me anyway, and I was struggling, as usual, already this month. It's hard to get back into the habit of not being able to get enough sleep, of having to give up doing things I like in favor of things I HAVE to do: correcting papers lesson plans, jumping into my days with a bunch of noisy 9 year olds instead of quietly sipping my coffee on the front porch, listening only to the roosters crow. I think it would probably be easier, in the long run, if I had a 12 month job, instead of having my summers off. I just enjoy them way too much, and DISlike aspects of my job way too much to ever be able to make a graceful and smooth transistion. But, I was working on it, and this week was better, or would have been better, than last week. And next week is bound to be slightly easier still. It's the way of things.
Or, it is, until you throw in a teen suicide of a student in your youngest child's class on Monday evening of this week just past. Then, the week gets far more difficult than you ever could have anticpated. Only, unfortunately, I DO know what it's like. We all do. It's the second suicide of a classmate of one of my children in 4 years time. And the pain and wounds and hurt the first suicide caused have not yet healed over, and now there is this one. A terrible, violent ending of a life not even fully begun. No answers to the why, no answers for his parents, grandparents, brother. No answers for his friends, classmates, teachers. And when the adults have no answers for the kids, how do we comfort them, help them, teach them to grieve? How do you comfort those big, tall boys wearing their work boots, and Carharrt Tshirts, who don't know what to do with that terrible, open pit of sorrow?
I don't know. I don't have any answers this week.
I'm not sure there ARE any answers. Welcome to September. October will be better.