Coronavirus Chronicles: Closure

Ben graduated from the Open Classroom nearly two weeks ago, and his last official day of school was a week ago. Granted, he hadn't been in the school in nearly three months, but after weeks of online learning, presenting his eighth-grade project virtually, and a nice video graduation, the end nonetheless arrived.

We were proud, and whether graduation was live in the OC gym or virtual, of course we would be joyful and sad. After 11 years in this community -- and with co-oping and committees and the friends we've made along the way, it really has been a community -- the end for us was never going to be easy.

However, I still don't feel closure. The last 10 weeks of school should have been our chance to say goodbye after so many years. I would have co-oped one more time. I would have walked the halls one more time, and popped in the Michael's first classroom. I would have thanked the teachers and strolled the courtyard. I would have taken it all in ... and then say goodbye.

The 11 years went so fast, which I knew would happen and had been dreading it for some time now. I'm shocked how quickly the time went. We blinked, and that first co-op shift in 2009 became a farewell and two boys who soon will make Lori and me empty-nesters.

Because of the pandemic, we didn't get a chance to mourn and celebrate our time here. It just ended.

Surprisingly, the lack of closure what I'm struggling with the most -- and not the fact that I have a second high schooler and that in four years we'll have two kids in college. These moments pass, and we try so hard to cling to them, to appreciate them, to formulate memories, and to move on. The pandemic kicked us out the door instead of letting us leave on our terms. I'm struggling so much to process that.

People have lost so much during this crisis -- much more than our family has. People have died, became seriously ill, lost their livelihoods, and lost their way. In comparison, the special moments and the memories we and others have been robbed of don't match up.

Yet, that loss, however necessary, still hurts. It's an extra slap in the face to the fact that the last decade has zipped by, and that the joy of watching the boys grow up is also the pain of them not being little.

I've bummed myself out even more now. Let's at least make some memories this summer -- and not let it zip by.


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Summer, Day 8

Today was Memorial Day, and as far as Memorial Days go, this one seemed somewhat anticlimactic. The sun came out after three less-than-stellar days, perhaps preventing the weekend from being a total bust. I worked late last night but was awake earlier than I wanted to be this morning. I fell back asleep and woke up around 10:30 to a thumping sound outside. Michael, Lori and my father-in-law got the rest of the sand in the base of the new basketball hoop, and Michael and his friend from across the street were shooting around. This was Lori's parents' last day in Utah, so we treated them to The Cheesecake Factory at the new City Creek mall downtown. I had the macaroni and cheese burger and most of a piece of Oreo cheesecake (no matter how much I pushed on my sons -- they wanted to share Lori's banana cream cheesecake). The boys and I wandered City Creek a little and came home. The afternoon wasn't much more eventful. Michael and I took Popcorn to the park for about
Read more

Vacation finale

Image
As expected, the last three days of vacation were much less eventful than the first 12. This happens every year -- we get back from Wisconsin for at least one day before leaving for Utah, and it's just wind-down time. And that's OK -- going nonstop for two weeks isn't easy, especially with kids. And vacation is supposed to be a time to relax, and for the past three days, that's what we did. The past few days weren't that relaxing, however. Monday, we met my mom, who is in Chicago this week, for lunch and then to Old Orchard Mall. That night, we met some friends at the new Superdawg (my favorite Chicago hot dog restaurant) in Wheeling. Tuesday, after pondering going downtown, we ended up just seeing the Smurfs movie with my dad. Last night, we went to dinner at a nice little Italian restaurant here in Edgebrook. Wednesday was mostly devoted to getting ready for our return trip Thursday morning. The heat and thunderstorms finally subsided -- this might have been the m
Read more

The Little Red Machine

Image
After blogging about Eldest's baseball experience (as well as mine as an assistant coach), I decided to write about my five years playing organized baseball as a kid. Long ago (the mid-1990s), I wrote about two of these seasons, so I will dig those up and transcribe/edit/add/revise when I post on those two seasons. This post will be about my first season, in 1978 on the Reds. We had moved into our new house in 1977, and my new friends, especially Marc, loved baseball and collected baseball cards. Even before we had moved that spring, I was started to become interested in baseball, so my interest exploded that summer. I had played basketball for two seasons at Norwood Park, so my father signed me up for t-ball in the spring of 1978 and bought me a glove (mass-autographed by Mickey Rivers!). I was placed on the Reds. The team was coached by a couple teenagers, including the older brother of one of my teammates. I don't remember many of my other teammates, except we had a bi
Read more