I’ve been spending the last couple of days packing up the last three years of my professional life in preparation for a new job that starts on Monday. (It’s amazing how much stuff a person to cram into a little cubicle!)
I got to the last drawer this morning and pulled out a bag. I knew what it was as soon as I saw it. I had totally forgotten about it . . . until now. Inside the bag were all the mass cards, and condolence cards and flower cards we received after mom’s death. I had brought them into work to finish writing thank you notes in those first numb days when I was suppose to be “returning to normal.” I must have stuffed them in that drawer and consciously avoided opening it again until my subconscious understood and took over. Protecting me from the contents of that drawer, that bag.
So here I am packing my last box – basking in the excitement of this new job, new opportunity, new challenge when POW.
Sucker punch.
All the wind was knocked out of me.
Not prepared to face the contents I decided to move the bag right into a box I was about to tape up. I’m sure I can find a place to hide it in my new office. But in my haste a little book fell out. A small book with just the word HOPE printed on the cover. I didn’t remember the book – I’m realizing I have blocked out a lot of those last few weeks with my mom. But it had a little purple sticky note marking one page.
A hero is just an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere in spite of overwhelming obstacles
-Christopher Reeves
I found the card that went along with the book. A handwritten note to my mom from my mother in law sent while my mom was in the hospital fighting her last battle. This note from one mother to another
