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Hardly Working


I found this picture and I don't think I've seen any diagram more accurate. It makes more sense than anything I learned in calculus. That's saying a lot, cause I think I learned nothing.

This week I became overwhelmingly upset. I felt I was doing okay. I felt that I was able to be happy even though I was grieving. But grief is funny that way, it can come when you least expect it. I found myself bursting into tears several times a day. Everything was making me angry. I was mad I never got to say goodbye to my dad because the nurses working at the hospital that night didn't understand what was going on. I felt so mad at those nurses I didn't even know. I wanted to call them this week and tell them how stupid they are. My dad would have done the same, he was very full of opinions. He was good at getting mad. I obviously realized that's not how I should handle my grief, but it's how I felt.

I was supposed to be working. I'm a multimedia journalist for the school newspaper. I had three stories to write. I didn't write anything last week. I approached my boss today and told her what was going on.

She said she lost her dad too, she was 35 at the time, but that didn't make it any less hard. She knew her dad's time was coming to a close and she got to say goodbye. She said she was so sorry I didn't have that chance. She advised me to learn good ways to cope with this loss. So I asked her how she coped.

She said, "I honestly told myself, for years, that he was just away on a business trip." We laughed. I have to say how amazing my boss is, she was so kind and understanding with me and I'm honored to work for her.

We sat and talked for an hour about our dads. She let me tell stories and she told hers. We talked about how we find ourselves crying out of nowhere and finding this loss affect us at times that seem inconvenient. We cried together.

She told me that there was one day in particular she had a rough day at work. That day several people had come to her with their woes and it weighed heavily on her. She got home and prayed aloud that she needed a soft place to fall. She said she heard what sounded like her father's voice saying, "I'm your soft place to fall."

It was so refreshing to talk to someone who wasn't afraid to listen to me and let me cry. It felt so good.

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