It started with me, I suppose. Brian died in October of 2010. I remember Tess, our principal calling a "stand up meeting" as she calls them to let the staff know. I was thankful to be elsewhere and not present at the meeting. The support from the people in my building and in the speech department was amazing. I was and am truly blessed to have them in my life. And life goes on.
But then, the next one to join the club...Katy miscarried her twin babies. Our hearts as a staff were broken again. Another stand up meeting. Another round of meals. Another staff member going through so much pain and heartache.
Wendy lost her husband almost two years ago. I remember walking into school that day, and my assistant standing in my office with such a sad look on her face. When I asked her what was wrong and she told me what happened, I had to sit down. It was like someone grabbing the scab over the wound on my heart and ripping it right back open. I sobbed. For Wendy. For her husband. For her loss. Another unwelcome member...
A new building and a new start was exactly what we all thought we needed. Our brand new building would start new and fresh and we would all be ok! Free from gathering any new members. We hadn't even moved in yet when we got the email from Tess that sweet Liza had lost her teenaged boy Jackson. No stand up meeting since it was over the summer. But sign ups to make meals. Sending love and prayers. I didn't know Liza very well, but I made her family shredded chicken and took her dinner. I sobbed to whole time I was making her dinner. Like ugly cry sobbed for three hours solid. Another unwelcome member into the most horrifying club ever. School started back up in the fall and life carried on, with oh so heavy hearts. I couldn't even look at Liza without wanting to sob. So I sent her love and hugs and prayers through email, until the day she got brave and stopped me in the hallway and we hugged. I have loved getting to know Liza. And although our grief is oh so different, it's not so different all at the same time.
We marched through the fall, and celebrated a staff member with a new baby on the way. And then...another email. Our friend and colleague Jennifer has lost her precious baby. And we cried. And I made pulled pork sandwiches and delivered them to her and sobbed into her arms as we held each other and loved each other and welcomed another unwelcome member into the club.
And then it seemed things were ok. We marched on, hiding our grief in front of our kiddos, leaning on the individual coworkers we all run to, sending a knowing glance as we pass in the hall, sharing gentle smiles and quick cries and bonding together as unwanted members in our awful club.
Then, cancer took Joni's husband too soon. Another email. And I just couldn't make anymore casseroles or crock pot dishes. I just couldn't. I hated that! I know people feel like they want to help but I hated people bringing me food. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to see people. I didn't want to have to smile and try not to cry and be thankful. And when it came time for Joni I was relieved that the food chart filled up quickly. Because I just couldn't. Another member in our group. My heart was broken.
This past weekend, Tess sent an email. Calling for another "stand up meeting" on Monday morning. My heart was sick. I texted a few coworkers and found out what happened. Another coworker lost her husband. My first thoughts were with Joni and Wendy. I remember walking into the school when Wendy lost her husband. I knew how hard that hits and how sad it is. And then my thoughts turned to our other members. Because grief and loss, no matter how different, is still grief and loss. It rips all those wounds open, no matter how long ago it has been. And I wept. For all of them. For all of us. Another name on the roster of the worst club ever.
We went to school Monday morning. I got there just in time for the stand up meeting. Walking up the stairs I met Wendy, who had already found out and was crying. I took her hand and took a deep breath and walked into the library. Tess made the announcement and told us we could stick around for a prayer if we wanted to. After a few left the rest of us got up and formed a circle. I tried to avoid eye contact around the circle but I slowly started to look. Liza. Jennifer. Katy. Wendy. And then I stopped because it was tears. One of our teachers said a prayer. I hugged Wendy. And I went to duty on the playground and tried to push it out of my head.
When duty was over, I had this feeling I needed to check on Wendy. As I was walking back to Wendy's classroom, Katy was coming out of her classroom. Jennifer and Wendy were coming down the stairs together. Liza was coming out of her classroom. We all stopped for a second and looked at each other. I smiled and said, "How did we all find each other?" Then we shared a lot of tears, and quick and quiet words, and hugs. And then did what we needed to to greet our kids at the door. That moment though...the moment when we all just happened to be there, in that moment, was so important and so powerful to me. An unwelcome club. But an amazing group of strong, supportive women. Women who have been through hell and back. Who have experienced different losses, but losses just the same.
When Brian died, I went to work the next day. I needed to be there. I needed my friends and I needed my coworkers and I needed my kids. Thinking back, I am so thankful to the people that have supported me and carried me through and been there for me. I never would have been able to make it without Melody and Kim and Tess and so many others that helped me out in those days. And now I wouldn't make it without the addition of Liza and Wendy and Jennifer and the other members of this club. For they know. They understand. They can see my face and know about the weariness and exhaustion and pain and depression and sadness. And I see it with them too.
It's a club that I never wanted to be a member of. And it's a club that I say is full and no more members are allowed. But, if it happens that we need to make space, we will. Because there is no other place I would want to be if I need support than within the walls of Hawk Elementary. We are a sad school. But more than that? We are a school full of strength and love and support. Beautiful, strong, grieving women who cling to each other and hold our breath everytime there's a stand up meeting.
Here's to no more of those meetings!
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