The storm has poured down on me this year, raining on my head, sleet whopping the sides of my face, frozen eyelashes, paralyzing snow. I am in the perfect storm of GRIEF!
Death is disaster.
I told someone three times in one conversation that I am not going to allow anything bad come from my mom’s life or death. Guess what?
Death is just bad.
Very, very bad.
Sorry, I can’t wrap this one in a pretty pretend ‘good’ package.
Trying to find where to get decent produce, gluten free bread and friends that are honest and not too busy flying around like hummingbirds.
Now a teacher’s strike affecting friends, family and dear Sexy Neck.
School ended last Friday for the summer, two weeks early.
The teacher’s strike for class composition, size and wages.
They walk, they wear signs, they do not get paid.
Their journey is honourable.
The negotiations are a schoolyard fight between two people speaking different languages. The teacher’s union and the Government.
The pressure the strike has put on families scrambling for child care and the administration (including Sexy Neck) still left inside the schools is unfathomable.
Most days I don’t ask. Can’t ask.
As I sit deeply in this year of grief layered with mom’s death, moving, watching dad grieve, watching friendships die and now the strike.