It's now been almost two weeks since my mother revealed that her doctor gave her an end date. Six months. Half a year. Certainly not enough time. Never enough time. My heart has never felt so battered as if anything could break me. And after this week, I do feel broken, and I am barely keeping everything together. Little by little, I tell people the truth -- that my mother is dying and that a year from now, she will likely be gone. No words, no gestures can make anything feel better.
I have chosen to work as much as I can because the structure makes me feel secure, and the constant busyness of teaching and grading and planning keeps my mind of the truth. The sincerity of my students makes my day, but today, the callousness of youth has done me in. In their ignorance and naïveté, they show how little they really know, how little they value. It cuts me, and yet, I go back to work every day. I am so fortunate to be paid for doing what I love, but days like today make me question my choice. During all the great days I have, I always experience some that are not so good, and today was one of them.
No comments:
Post a Comment