Falling Around You.
I had to say goodbye to my favorite client and his family tonight. I am devastated about it. I can’t stop crying. He and his brother were the sweetest, most loving, funny, and lovable children on the face of the planet. They were too little to understand that when I left it would be for good. Forever. I don’t always love the kids I work with, but there are some that are just special to me, and they were
Our goodbye session was so memorable. I brought their mom a potted plant as a parting gift; I wanted to give her something as a reminder of me but also as a reminder of a new opportunity for growth. I also brought a puzzle for the boys so that they could have something to build together as a team. Families are supposed to fit together like pieces of puzzles after all. At least that is what I hear.
The boys’ mom made me gluten free pasta per my request and we all sat and shared a meal together. I brought cupcakes, which everyone seemed to enjoy. They were the sweet end to a bittersweet evening. I helped the boys’ mom do their bedtime routine by reading a few stories to them and then hanging back, observing their mom perform the tasks through which she will guide them the rest of their childhood. When it was time to say goodbye I gave the boys each a goodnight hug with the mom’s permission and said it was fun working with them. I reminded them I wouldn’t see them again. All they could ask was “Why?” And no matter how many reasons I gave them none seemed to make any sense to them at all.
After they went to bed, I held back a few tears and continued paperwork with the client’s mom until it was time to pack up my things. I had remained relatively stoic up until this point, but then I became kind of awkward and unhinged. I kept meandering around the house, looking for things I may have forgotten. I think I just didn’t want to leave. I turned on the porch light for myself—something that the client’s mom used to do for me. In retrospect, it seems kind of symbolic that I wouldn’t let her help me because I had nothing more to offer her or her family. I walked sullenly to the car in total darkness, and I drove myself to the first place I could think of that might help me feel better: the bench at Prescott Park overlooking the water where I said goodbye to Colin over the weekend.
The further away I drove the more heartsick I felt. I tried to think of someone I could call that would be able to support me and truly understand my pain. I couldn’t think of anyone. I have many friends, but most of them don’t really get what I do. Each of my friends and family has something special to offer me, but what I lack is just one person who gets me and can be my shoulder to cry on. I am missing that piece to my puzzle—the one person I can call no matter what happens in my life. I have 954 Facebook friends, and I have never felt more alone in my life than in the car at that moment.
When I got to the park, I walked over to the bench, and I was reminded that I need to be my own pillar of strength as I was overlooking the water. There is something admirable about my ability to support myself, but it can also be isolating to be entirely self-reliant. I wish I knew how to help myself let others in.
I have been listening to nothing but Ingrid Michaelson’s song “Over You” for the past few days in anticipation of this final session with my client. There is a lyric in the song that goes, Maybe if I tell myself enough, maybe if I do, I’ll get over you. I’m falling around you. I feel like I am falling to pieces around someone I have loved and lost. Every time I say goodbye I am reminded of the pain I felt when I said goodbye to others. I know it’s cliche, but I feel like a missing puzzle piece. I just want someone to pick me up and put me back where I belong because I can’t figure out where that is, and it’s lonely out here where I am.