deep grief = deep love

Today. Today has been the hardest day since coming home. 

They tell you you’re going to grieve, and until today, I didn’t fully understand. I woke up and was super sad. I went to church, and at the point where we say “It is right and just”, I think to myself in Spanish “Es justo y necesario”, and I got tears in my eyes.

For all the moments in church with my boys. 

The first time we went to mass after we received 10 kids at once (we got 7 new boys in my whole first 6 months), who most of them didn’t speak Spanish (they spoke & still speak the dialect Mixteco), and I was trying to explain to them how we do mass in Spanish, and in the house. 

The times we’d do the Rosary as a house, and getting the kids to stop playing with and swinging around the rosaries we were trying to pray (which they do SO quickly, by the way. I did all of them in English).

             


















 For all the moments in general with my boys. The good, the bad, the ugly. The moments I hated them and couldn’t wait to leave, and the moments that I will never forget because they really were the best moments of my life.

Talking to my friend Haley who was the other volunteer in my section, she said she’d do anything to go back and hug the boys. I mentioned the few boys who were always the most trouble and I said I’d even want to go see them right now, and I started thinking of all the “terrible” moments. The times when kids were whipping each others with towels. When they would hit and fight and be so rude to each other. The kids who said I was “just a volunteer”. The temper tantrums. The “problem” kids. The “easier” kids. The wonderful kids. 

I’ve been told the grieving process for volunteers who re-acclamate themselves into their home culture can take up to a year. I’ve lost people in my life before, but I don’t remember the grieving process being like this. I feel so closed up at times. Mostly, because I realize that you won’t understand what I’m going through. There is a small-knit community of ex-volunteers who feel this way. Who had their life completely change in front of their eyes over the course of a year. A lot of time or just a little, either way you look at it. 

I’m returning a different person than I left. That will be of no surprise to anyone. I’m [more] patient. I have really learned how to pick my battles. I know what unconditional love is. And I think I’ve really learned to appreciate every day. At the beginning of my year, my days would end with “I have 10/9/8 months left here...”, and I really enjoyed my days. I was so thankful and excited to finally be living my dream. And at the end of my year, I would have 3 weeks, or 15 days, or 8 hours until I leave, and there was a different sense of appreciation in those days. I spent every minute trying to not be upset over little things. That they are the things I’m going to miss (which I do, but I miss the good moments more). It’s true. 

They’re the things helping me stabilize again. I miss my boys so much. I miss seeing my best friends every day. I miss the Mexican culture. I miss how cheap things are there, and how there was always food made at the house. I am not a huge fan of cooking /: 

So to answer everyone’s questions:

• How am I?    Unsure. There isn’t one word to explain it. Hurting, missing, appreciating, happy, sad, comfortable, uncomfortable. Take your pick. It depends on the hour. 
• Do you miss it?    What’s the socially acceptable way to say “Are you an idiot?”?
• Are you happy you’re home?    Mm. Meh? Yes and no.
• Are you different from when you left?    Yup. 

I know I will be fine, I am just unsure of how long it will take. So when I don't respond to something the way I used to, or am more closed off, it's not you. It's the new me (: I'm still getting used to her, but I like where she comes from and where she's going.