The most unwelcome revelation arrived via email. A beloved elderly relative was taken off of life support and moved back into her home for hospice care.
When I read this, I went numb. I was already struggling, but my productivity dropped to zero from that point on. I needed to get out of the office. I needed to walk. I needed fresh air.
I walked home. It takes about an hour, but I look forward to the relaxation that the time and the exercise afford me. Walking often transports me away from my troubles; it seemed to work wonders for me today.
I thought about the future, about things that I will have the chance to photograph next year, about adventures that I can have and the people who will be there to enjoy them with me.
I felt better. I felt relief. I felt disconnected from the problems not only of the day but of the past few months, months that have been particularly difficult for my family.
When I arrived home, that's when it hit me. That's when it all came crashing down. My voice cracked as I told my wife the news. I managed to get out that I was going to cry and then sobbed in her arms as she comforted me.
It's been a long time since I've shed tears like that. It's been years. But there's only so much grief that one person can carry around. Today, I reached my limit. Hopefully, by tomorrow, I'll be thinking about that bright future once again. There's no going back, and I can't handle any more bad news.
Copyright © 2016 Daniel R. South
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