{"id":903,"date":"2016-06-21T03:44:27","date_gmt":"2016-06-21T07:44:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/aaronbsmith.com\/photos\/?p=903"},"modified":"2017-06-28T07:55:21","modified_gmt":"2017-06-28T11:55:21","slug":"observations","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/aaronbsmith.com\/photos\/2016\/06\/21\/observations\/","title":{"rendered":"Observations"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

My alarm got me up just after 1 am. I remember turning it off. I have no alarm set for that time, but now I can\u2019t sleep, so I guess I\u2019ll write instead.<\/p>\n

I keep seeing things that remind me of her. I keep \u00a0hearing things in conversation that make me think she would find that amusing and I should tell her when I see her again. And then I remember that I won\u2019t.<\/p>\n

I haven\u2019t played video games since. She was my partner in those, as well. In most games she was better than me. In some games she was the only reason my character stayed alive.<\/p>\n

My mother is here to help take care of me. It is good to not be alone but I know she will not stay forever. Until that time she has taken it upon herself to clean and organize the man made disaster that is our small apartment. I can barely take care of myself but for years I tried to take care of us both. I haven\u2019t been doing a very good job of it.<\/p>\n

I try to help as much as I can, but cleaning memories in a home filled with memories is sometimes too much. There are boxes of things for me to go through that I cannot touch.<\/p>\n

I know I will have to do it eventually, but opening each box will be like tearing the scab off of a deep wound. I will be alone when I do that.<\/p>\n

My mother filled a basket of laundry to be washed. As I was loading it into the machine I saw it included the clothing she wore when she went to the hospital and my legs got weak. Her clothing is washed and folded and put away and I have no idea why I put the effort into it when she\u2019ll never get to wear it again.<\/p>\n

I keep needing to know details for things where before I just asked her. Family names, directions, and how old our cats are. I only remember how old I am because those were some of the last words she ever said with me in the room.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry for your loss\u201d is what I used to say to others when I wanted to express my sympathy, but had no idea how to do that adequately. Every time I said it I felt like I was tossing a glass of water into a garden during a drought. It was what was needed, but not enough. Not nearly enough.<\/p>\n

I am worn asunder by hearing how sorry people are for my loss and how I will be in their thoughts and prayers, but I dread the day people stop telling me, as if that\u2019s the day where I should move on. I know whatever day that is, I will not be ready.<\/p>\n

I had to call her doctors to cancel medical appointments. Every call felt more final. Every call took more out of me. My sister offered to do that for me but getting the details together for her would have been more work than just doing it myself.<\/p>\n

I have to bite back resentment towards people who wished me a happy birthday before they heard the news.<\/p>\n

They didn\u2019t know. They were not being callous. There was no malice.<\/p>\n

I am so wrapped up in my selfish grief that sometimes I can\u2019t manage it. I never want to celebrate my birthday again.<\/p>\n

I had to go to school to get personal items and close out my room for the year. What I expected to take an hour took half the day as staff members formed a constant stream into my room to offer condolences and help. It ruined my plans for the day but I am so glad they did it.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t have coworkers, I have a family of educators. Anyone who says I don\u2019t teach at the best school will have to fight me, and they will lose.<\/p>\n

It was the last day of school. Students were in the building, but it was a day of parties, basketball, and chalk drawings in the courtyard. I had no real classes that needed covering. Some of my students knew. Some didn\u2019t. I marveled at my brain\u2019s ability to click into\u00a0\u201cteacher mode\u201d when I talked to students about mundane things in the hallway like having a good Summer or whether or not oatmeal cookies are any good. I consider it good practice for when I have to go back out into the world and take the pain I wear openly and fold it back into my heart.<\/p>\n

The students who know are harder to deal with. They are not used to offering their condolences. Like most skills it requires thought and practice to develop, and at that age most have had little practice and far less thought put into dealing with mortality. The result is awkward, as we both wait for the other to go through the motions. I appreciate the effort.<\/p>\n

I hold no resentment for the staff member who I am certain offered condolences only as a prelude to asking me for tech support.<\/p>\n

His need was legitimate and the problem was simple to fix. In a way it felt good to be able to make something go well again. I meant it when I thanked him.<\/p>\n

I feel guilty when I don\u2019t think of her and I feel guilty when others patiently wait for me to tell them another story about her life because sometimes the only thing I can do is talk about her and the joy she brought into my life. They are some of the most mundane stories ever but they are my memories of her and I am scared to death that someday I might not remember them.<\/p>\n

I have told the story of how she died too many times. It does not get easier.<\/p>\n

The line \u201cIt\u2019s quiet uptown\u201d from Hamilton has such a deeper, more profound meaning to me than it did before. I cried the first time I heard it. I can\u2019t listen to it now.<\/p>\n

I have been saying \u201cthank you\u201d constantly. I have not been saying it enough. I have not been apologizing enough, either. I never did.<\/p>\n

Thank you.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m sorry.<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My alarm got me up just after 1 am. I remember turning it off. I have no alarm set for that time, but now I can\u2019t sleep, so I guess I\u2019ll write instead. I keep seeing things that remind me of her. I keep \u00a0hearing things in conversation that make me think she would find […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":904,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[42,3],"tags":[25],"class_list":["post-903","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-blog-photo","category-photo","tag-kelli"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/aaronbsmith.com\/photos\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/06\/kelli18.jpg","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p8NYym-ez","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":1054,"url":"https:\/\/aaronbsmith.com\/photos\/2018\/06\/19\/i-didnt-cry-today\/","url_meta":{"origin":903,"position":0},"title":"I didn’t cry today.","author":"Aaron Smith","date":"2018-06-19","format":"image","excerpt":"It's been two years. I went to school, thinking that I did not want to be home alone. Students had early dismissal and a basketball game today. There would not be much time for teaching. I regretted my choice before I got there. 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She was admitted for abdominal pain and it was determined that she needed her gall bladder removed. 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