13 Days
In two weeks I will wake up in West Virginia, and it will be the first day of the rest of my life.
In preparation for the move, I’ve been going through a large box of Hal’s things, plaques that had escaped my attention when I was cataloging all his awards and trophies before discarding them. Hal could have filled a room with trophies, plaques and framed certificates, everything from his 276 game in his bowling league to his employee of the quarter award. As much as anything else, they represented his life, and disposing of them made me feel as if I were somehow saying that nothing he accomplished mattered to me.
At the same time, I was getting in trouble on my Mensa atheist SIG (special interest group), an email discussion list I recently joined. It began when someone suggested that Mensans who don’t have children aren’t fulfilling their responsibility to the world by passing on their superior genes, a comment I took offense to because I had chosen not to have children and because my parents would probably have been considered inferior by this poster, not worthy of breeding. There was a heated discussion in which I let my anger get the best of me.
Another poster who had been corresponding with me privately emailed me the next day to complain that I was talking too much about sex on the list–he spelled it s*x because he’s uncomfortable with the subject, apparently. He was worried, he said, that I would be perceived as obsessed with sex and was sure that others would complain (they didn’t). I sent back an angry email saying that I would damned well talk about sex if I wanted to, that I was an adult, and there was nothing wrong with being interested in it, talking about it or wanting it. Since then I’ve been ignoring him.
A third poster who had been corresponding privately replied to a query from me about how he was doing by telling me he was having difficulty remaining friendly after learning I was in favor of healthcare reform. I sent him a curt reply telling him not to send me any more email.
Finally, a poster sent a short story to the list and invited comments. I gave mine, and he took umbrage because he is a professional writer and apparently wasn’t expecting criticism. This erupted into a big argument among several members of the list, which ultimately led to this poster leaving in a huff.
Only when all this was over did I put it together. I’d been upset about going through Hal’s things and acting out like a child. If I’d had someone to talk to, maybe I wouldn’t have lashed out on my email list, but I’ve been saying goodbye to my friends in Virginia and feeling more disconnected than usual–the list is my only social group right now.
So here’s today’s food for thought: It will probably help if you can give your friends and family some warning when you have to do something difficult such as going through your loved one’s possessions. It may be that you don’t think it will be difficult, only realizing how it’s affected you after you do it. It’s best to be safe and anticipate feeling bad rather than act like a crazy person (like I did), leaving everyone wondering what the hell is going on.
