Tragic Crazy Lady for a Day

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Note:  I promise my next post will be much funnier.  But it does say funny or tragic in my title, so if you think about it, you had it coming.
It is important to note that I am not a crier.  I cried with my dog died this year, of course, and when I realized I was out of Dr Pepper, but really, that’s extreme for me.  I cry maybe twice a year.  Usually.  But not the last few days.

One of my most important professors who has been a lifelong mentor and friend died of a heart attack. It feels more horrible because he was a poet.  And I don’t mean he wrote emo poems after smoking pot, I mean he was a real poet.  It was his job title.  He’s published books.  So I feel even more crushed–not just for my personal lack of him, but also because the world will be without his art.  I’ve been keeping it together in the lab, but instead of hanging out in my office after class, I’ve been slinking home.

At first I would just hang out on the couch, but I just cry more.  I decided to get some air, have a walk.  Puppy always needs a walk, so I took him along.  Luckily, there weren’t many people around.

The puppy’s incredible spastic happiness did not help cheer me up.  I just went back home and sobbed some more on the couch.  I decided by about 4pm I really should eat something, but we had nothing in the house, so I got in the car.  Maybe getting on with regular chores would give me a distraction.

Nope.

On a positive note, I’m pretty sure my steering wheel is very clean now.  And another positive was that the store wasn’t even a mile away, so I didn’t cry through a stoplight or anything.  But I almost wanted a cop to pull me over, because I’m not the kind of person who can cry on cue and I wanted to see if it would work.

At the store I was still weepy.  But something happened.  I realized that anyone who would see me would clearly think I was bonkers.  I kept switching between poker face (in my attempt at composure) and tears (quiet tears, because manners do dictate so). This combined with the fact that I was fondling the fruit due to my lack appetite make it all the weirder.  Knowing how batshit crazy I looked, there was one small voice in the back of my head that started laughing at myself, or at the poor people who kept going out of their way to step around me and the fruit aisle.  I guess everyone is crazylady for a day, and I turned in my ticket.  My heart still hurts, but I realize that my mentor would have laughed at the humor right along with me.

Which started my crying all over again, but in a good way.

R.I.P., Michael.

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2 thoughts on “Tragic Crazy Lady for a Day

  1. I’m sure he would have laughed along with you, just as we did. It’s sad that he lost his life and that the world lost his gift of poetry. I’m sure he’d be proud of you for using yours. I hope writing this was cathartic. . .

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