Saturday, 24 January 2015

Life is made of ever so many partings welded together. ― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Newly arrived in our vacation home, ready for our first snowbird experience, we plummeted into the dark abyss of depression for a few days. The weather was lousy, the house unfamiliar and motivation to do anything was lacking. Two cats in separate corners, we slowly, suspiciously licked our paws, wondering where the enemy hid. Why? Where was it coming from? If we complained, were we not doing an incredible disservice to our colleagues still at the helm, to every person who was fighting something far greater than our…our what?

We do not tend to wallow, especially simultaneously, yet even knowing we had no right, we dipped into a melancholy neither of us understood. But, I think, it has been revealed. This week, the sun shone. We uncurled and moved toward its warmth. We also unravelled this strange emotional turmoil, batted it around and saw it clearly for what it was.
 

The marble in the graveyard of our careers was clean and pristine, a reflection of our innate personalities—planned and organized. It had stood there since June, isolated, alone and unacknowledged. We had not mourned the loss of professions that meant so much to us, peer groups that are irreplaceable, the piece of us that will never find a home again. It is the loss of youth, of years of hard work and dreams, of infinite aspirations.
 
This week, we inscribed that marker with our stories and said goodbye. And, we got resoundingly drunk as we re-shared those tales that, woven together, are the tapestry of our working lives. Thank you to each of you who has contributed a strand.

4 comments:

  1. This is pure prose poetry, Rose! Just lovely! And you're right, we retirees need time to settle after our careers are done. I know it took me a year. ;-)

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  2. Zan Marie,

    So many people asked us how we felt about retiring, seemingly convinced we would find it hard. We didn't understand what they were trying to get at. Now we do. Goodbyes a hard. They hurt. We're quick healers though and are strolling off into our new sunset.

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  3. I couldn't agree more with Zan Marie, you write beautiful prose in a rhythm which moves the heart. I'm glad you and your husband were able to pin down the cause of your depression and that the sun is shining again for both of you.

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    1. Ah, Nicole, you are so sweet. You are at the beginning of a similar journey. May it be as rich and rewarding as ours has been.

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