1-2-11

Back in D.C. tonight. Being home for the holidays was like putting my broken heart on "pause" for a week. For the most part, I tried not to think of the pain that I'd left behind me and focused instead on the joys of a rare visit with family.

My poor baby sis struggled mightily to create a Christmas for me that provided the renewal I traditionally get from my favorite holiday...while acknowledging the tragic context that could not be ignored, recent events that lent an intense poignancy to the festive proceedings. She did her best: giving up her bedroom to make me as comfortable as possible, strenuous cooking of all of my familiar and favorite holiday foods, driving for hours to make sure that I got to see almost all of the family I had been missing so intensely. She was also very sensitive and careful to follow my lead as to what I did and didn't want to talk about at various times, remaining sympathetic and nurturing throughout. It was an heroic and, for the most part, successful effort...for which I am extremely grateful to her.

But as the old saying goes, you can run...but you can't hide. And now I am back in my apartment in D.C. surrounded by belongings and memories of the beloved friend that I so recently lost.

The flight was fast and uneventful. Due to road construction, my taxi was forced to detour past the stop where I waited every night for my bus to the hospital. I stopped in the lobby, at the mailbox still marked "Sharpe & Jaggers" to retrieve a weeks worth of Christmas and sympathy cards, then carried my bags upstairs without Lionel's help...assistance I'm going to have to get used to doing without.

I entered the apartment to the disarray that was a result of my frantic departure. I must've left the freeezer door ajar. It had been packed with food that was now all thawed and spoiled -- three trash bags full that I put in the dumpster behind the building.

Other than that, and the now-dead flowers, the apartment is unchanged. Still and empty...except for a tsunami of memories. All of Lionel's things are exactly where he left them, as if waiting for his return. But there will be no one here but me tonight.

I would give anything not to have to go to work tomorrow. I would love of just sit here and stare into space all day, trying to process this enormous new reality that does not yet seem the least bit real to me...but there is much urgent, unfinished, relentless work waiting at my job. I have already been off two weeks...and I will already need to take some time off this coming Wednesday to attend (of all things) a funeral.

Everything is still so overwhelming to me, I guess the best thing for me to do at this point is turn in early and get up early. Maybe things will seem less depressing and insurmountable by the light of a new day.