Yesterday started out like any other weekday. I went about my usual morning routine before heading out the door for work. On Mondays I swing by Star Video to pick up whatever film I'm using for a specific segment of class. This week's choice was
Smoke Signals (which happens to be on my top 10 best movie list).
After the first break I started the film & took a seat in the back of the classroom to work on papers. While watching the familiar scenes & listening to the laughter of my students I became acutely aware of something on the screen that I had previously not sensed on such a personal level. I had forgotten that one of the major themes in this jewel was loss of relationship with fathers. Mine died eight months ago. Suddenly it felt like he died yesterday...the sky fell down on me.
By the time the credits rolled I was a complete puddle and nothing says "awkward" like the teacher sobbing in the back of the room as someone turns the lights back on. There was that moment of tension in which people were fumbling for Kleenex, and I was trying to find enough of my voice to be able to put some words together.
Teachers are supposed to look like they are in control, correct? But my rawness became a window through which we could all feel the breeze of loss - I talked, they listened, and they talked and I listened and it affirmed what we already knew - We are all connected by our woundedness.
Grief can be an intriguing guest at times - I just wish she would call first before popping in.
(I have no idea who the artist is, but this is a great illustration of what it felt like yesterday - as if the sky had engulfed my head like a large blanket)
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