I may try to write from my wholly honest self tonight. I don’t often do this because it’s just scary. But I feel so raw after the events here in Maine last night. I have been teaching writing online since 2015 when I left academic administration to homeschool and homestead. At one of my online schools, I work with a lot of first-generation undergraduates from both the northeast and midwest. I am a first-generation college student, and I love helping these students. Still, it’s a tough job. Some of my students have lived tough lives, tougher than my early childhood, and that was a doozie. I am so empathetic that I can get really down from work, and I have to be careful not to get overwhelmed.
I noticed about five years ago that my students were reporting more shootings in their lives than I had ever seen–by a long way. I was hearing about shootings from students in areas where I never would have expected to hear about shootings. The frequency and locations of these shootings were collectively worrying me about the state of things. I told Ron about this, and we hoped that Maine would be able to hold this off for a while. Maine is a safe place to live.
I am most heartbroken for the families who lost loved ones, some of whom are just finding out about their loved ones, but I am also heartbroken for our whole state. Maine is truly like a small town. I heard that when I first moved here in 2007, and I came to learn this was true. There are layers to our mourning here in Maine. The violence is here now. You know it’s possible, but you don’t want to believe it’s true. So you try to be hopeful.
It’s a heartbreaking thing to lose your hope.
The only way I could deal with this tragedy at first was to not deal with it, to keep busy. It’s only been tonight that I can feel the grief. All day today, I just focused on my tasks, and a large number of my tasks today were helping people. And helping people will keep you sane, won’t it?
I just focused on the work and how much I loved the people I was helping. As I completed each task, I just focused on how happy I was to be making someone happy. It kept me calmer, and it was through this that I realized that’s all we can when we are dealing with something so profound–try to do some good somewhere. Ron and I were working together for much of this, and we talked about the state of things while we worked. We talked about how we each perceived the situation and what our thoughts were. It was helpful to get his perspective, and I am thankful to have such an intelligent, thoughtful partner in this world. One of the things we decided was that it was important for us to take care of the people we love, our friends and family, in whatever ways we can. We have to take care of each other right now. We have to take care of each other forever.
Ron brought me home in the afternoon, so I could grade essays. He went back to finish helping a friend, and he said, while he was outside working, a gigantic murder of crows was all around him in the trees and flying throughout the neighborhood. He said it was quite the show and that he stopped working for a bit just to observe the beautiful crows. After a while, Ron said he called to them, “Thank you!”
I love crows. Ron loves crows. I love that Ron loves crows. I love that he got a visit from the crows. I have been fortunate enough to have a few myself, and it is good for the soul, especially the mournful soul. It feels like they know, and somehow, that helps, I think.
photo credit: Glen Carrie, Unsplash
