On Bios and Goodbyes

I mentioned in the last post that I have joined a writers group. We meet once a month, and our first assignment, due in about 10 days is to write a bio about ourselves. Some people are going to do it the easy way, they've already stated. That includes basic stats. For me that would be: born: June 23, 1976, Hair Color: Brown, Eye Color: Green Height about 5'7", Weight: irrelevant.
Occupation: Wild animal wrangler, AKA Mother of 3.

I want to write my bio to be more personal though. I could write a dissertation on my feelings about Neopolitan ice cream and how on so many levels it's wrong, my distaste for the word "moist", and how I'm pretty sure Almond Joy and that other crappy Halloween candy, the coconut one are bred from Communistic ideas of what constitutes edible candy. I could say I'm a Developmental therapist and go on to explain what that is, but I'm standing firmly ground in the belief that WHO I am is not necessarily WHAT I do.

I'm a reader, a writer, a faith seeker, a do-gooder (sometimes), a family chef, and a lullaby singer. But that's just what I do. It doesn't really describe me or separate me from the pack of other mom's who work both in and out of the home. Thus, I am relatively stumped and have a little over a week to figure myself out.

On my journey of self-discovery this past week, I have decided that I am without a doubt a person who has a hard time with Goodbyes. That's long-term goodbyes. This has come to a head as I recently found out that Nate's Occupational Therapist has resigned from the clinic we both work at to follow another path. In fact, today is her last day, and at this very moment I am at the aforementioned clinic with him for his very last OT session with this modern day Annie Sullivan. We are here to say good-bye, and I am having more difficulty with this than ever I thought I would.

Last night I was describing this aching sense of loss I feel for this woman to another co-worker and also a dear, dear friend as she was on a long drive through Iowa. She started to console me by saying, "I know she's leaving but she has given you so many tools and strategies to get you through" at which point I totally cut her off. "Look, I'm sad on a personal level, as she's been my own miracle worker, but on a professional level I'm feeling a sense of HUGE loss. I have learned more about the sensory system from her than any course or book or handout out there. She has no idea what she has done for me".

And that is the crux of it, isn't it? So very rarely we have the prescience of mind to know when we are in the presence of a true jewel of a person, and so, when it comes time to let go and let them go, it becomes a bittersweet battle royale. I wish her the best in all she does, but like a tantrumming 2 year old I want to shout out, "DON'T GO! YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!". We've all had our good-byes that were necessary endings and we didn't think twice about, like forever leaving behind high school, or that crappy job you had at the dry cleaners for a few summers. But when we have to say goodbye to someone or something that is so inherently good for the soul, and who has held you, and taught you, and been an example of a standard you strive to achieve, well, those are the hardest of all.

Can I write all this in my bio due next week? I could, but it doesn't really describe me, just frames a few thoughts on how I feel. So I won't put it down on paper for my peer group to critically assess.

I will though, keep good thoughts and prayers sent out into the universe for my Annie Sullivan's continued career success. You have touched our lives in so many ways you will never know, and will continue to touch others with your gentle words and healing hands.

Good Luck Lynn. You will be missed.
Goodbye.