Once you think you're done mourning, a tidal wave hits you, knocks you down, and has you struggling for air. But you find a way to doggy paddle, to breathe, to keep going.
Not all losses are a person or relationship. Some are the loss of a thing, a name, a role, a chair in which you sat. It's a strange thought that so much of one's identity can be wrapped up in something as silly as a title or the signature line on an email, but it happens. It happens because we give beyond the words on a page, the hours in a work week, and the dedication of our spirit.
And just at the moment we think we've moved on, something pulls us back to that sad place. And however little the sting, it is a reminder of what once was. It causes an electrical reaction. The sting turns to a burn, turns to a stab, turns to an ache, turns to tears.
For me, working for the Medical Reserve Corps wasn't just a job, it was a part of my heart and tremendous source of pride. I will carry the experience and memories with me wherever I go. While I do believe in the saying, it's better to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all, sometimes the hole left behind from the love lost feels too vast to repair. And while I know I will be fine - I am fine - today, I cry.
