The last week has been filled with good memories and painful tears. I've spent time with many of the people who came to mean so much to me. I did not get in all the goodbyes I wanted, nor did I go on all my favorite hikes, but my days were full. They usually ended with the painful realization that it was the end and how much I was going to miss it all.
My last day, I was invited to the birthday party of one of my students. I was therefore able to see many of my students again. One student's mother ran up to me and asked when I left, with the intentions to invite me to dinner if I had time (as requested by her son) but alas, there was not. I thanked her for the thought and offer.
The closer I've gotten to my homecoming, the more I've heard from people I have not heard from in a very long time. People who are excited and happy. I've been trying to think of a way to express what it is I'm feeling. People from home is the big thing I'm looking forward to, but that excitement is currently muted by the great feeling of loss.
It's not that I don't know that my friends and family are there for me and love me, it's just overwhelming to realize what I'm leaving behind and how much I love it all. There are the friends that I have made, a few in particular, my students and their families have become family to me, the place itself, my love of mountains is magnified there, the culture, and the growth that I have experienced. There are individuals who have become so important to me that simply the loss of them in my day to day life would set me back for a little while. You put it all together, combined with the feeling of intimidation of what I have yet to figure out and do, that causes me to be where I am.
It's not that I'm going to spend every moment upset and mourning what is lost. In fact, I imagine I will try to mask it most of the time. The fact is, that I've been extremely emotional over it all. I cried all morning. I cried in the car. I cried in the airport. I cried in the airplane. I cried again when I touched town in Atlanta, and again when I stepped foot on America (as we know it). I wasn't crying the whole time, they were usually (except in the house) silent, controlled tears. But I was certainly over taken sometimes. The kind Honduran woman sitting next to me never asked. She was on my next flight, across the isle from me, and I think she was pleased to see I was doing better.
I don't tell you this because I want sympathy, but because I know that most of the people I see will not understand at all that I'm not thrilled to be home. There are things that I look forward to. I know that I will get better with time, maybe even quicker than I think and that like with any form of mourning I will have ups and downs. I tell you because I need someone who realizes what this is to me, that this is a kind of mourning, and I will probably not always be myself. I know it will be fine, and even good. This is a new opportunity for growth. But it will take me some time,so please try to remember that.
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