Good grief

Well, today was my last working day. I said goodbye to a lot of people. In fact, I had started saying goodbye a couple of weeks ago. I'm surprised nobody said, "Yeah, yeah, go already."

Not too many tears on the drive home this time. I must have cried out most of the tears, because I started crying a month ago and there aren’t too many tears left anymore. I didn’t cry at all when a group of coworkers came by with a wonderful card and a thoughtful gift certificate from REI so I could buy cold-weather gear. It was a solemn gathering, with a little attempt at light-hearted bantering. I don’t know if they were looking for consolation; regardless, I couldn’t give it to them.

I don’t know if it’s harder on them than it is for me. For them, only one person is separating; they have the rest of each other. For me, I am separating from all of them. I would think my grief would be greater, but the excitement of the adventure keeps my heart afloat or at least close to the surface.

And yet, life still feels the same, except for a few moments of blissful clarity that gave a glimpse of the immensity of this adventure. Could I already be bored of this adventure? Sometimes I wonder if excitement and anxiety are the same emotion, except viewed from a different perspective. And, because I am not as anxious as I used to be, I am also less excited.

Or maybe it’s my psyche’s way of protecting me from shock. My mind is still on overdrive, crowded with long lists of things to do and details to take care of. In fact, more so now than before.

Maybe when all the tasks have been done and all the details have been attended to, then the realization will come. Then I can grieve properly.