There's a little bit of dying with each significant departure and, truth be told, I'm not very good at it. If habits are established in childhood, then I'm impaired from the get-go. From my father, I inherited "transitional ambivalence" or the inability to gage when to leave or to move from one activity to another in a timely and meaningful fashion. From Dad, I learned to be late in arriving and late in departing and to feel badly about it on both ends. My mother, on the other hand is "the Abrupt Departer." To avoid the emotional complexity of leaving, she just disappears. Not a bad strategy but a bit preemptive and tending to leave those behind holding the proverbial "bag" of after-thoughts, of cautionary reminders or an intentional embrace. Left dangling like a participle. Like when the water shuts off and you have toothpaste in your mouth.
So, somewhere between not wanting to have to leave and wishing to simply disappear, I am bumbling toward my "near-death-like" departure with trepidation and despair. I am a walking zombie, preoccupied with leaving and with wanting to "do it right." To be in-the-moment. Authentic. But quite honestly, I'd like to avoid the pain. I just don't know how to graciously leave people, forever, while side-stepping the sadness. Especially friends who have selflessly cared for Bruce and me and others who quite literally saved our daughter's life. Then gave her to us. In good condition! It's been said that each good-bye builds the foundation for successive departures. All the more reason to do it well. Egad, I hate this part! I'll deal with it tomorrow...
On a completely different note, I'd say that "Victory Day" was a smashing success and although the skies remained ominous, it neither rained nor snowed. The entire city took to the streets, marching toward the Tomb of The Unknown Soldier in Victory Park, carrying carnations in denominations of two. Music bellowed from strategically placed megaphones and throngs of nationalists pushed their way to the base of the monolith, offering words of gratitude and tossing their flowers upon the pyre. Darryl, Marcy, Peter and I wandered in amazement at the enormity of the festivities. And though folks were picnicking on kabobs, beer and "army slop" in small congregations throughout the park, we could not, for the life of ourselves, figure our how to get food! So we left. The celebration spilled out of the Park onto main street toward the walking mall where more tents are erected, flags are flying, meat is grilling, beer is flowing and it looks like these Kazaks really know how to party! I mean commemorate. Predictably, I have returned to the hotel for a nap and a cup of coffee! And a blog update. So here goes...
Love to my dear family and all of my very loyal friends~ TTFN! Carrie
