Grief

I think I am still simply grieving the loss of my old life. Things here are fine. They are even nice at times. I think I know why people like it here so much in this beach community, but I still feel like no one truly understands me. Even my husband has completely tired of my depression and lacks any sympathy for my feeling of isolation. I know it is not intentional, but he has no way to relate to loss I feel, since we crave such different things most often. It was like a breath of fresh air to have my friend, Berta, here from Georgia this weekend. She grew up in LA and we are like sisters the way we communicate. We complete each others sentences and finish each others jokes. It was a great weekend, but it left me feeling empty and so homesick when she and her family had to fly out of here again. Life felt somehow bleak again.

The weekend was full of activities. One thing I can say about Vero, is there is no shortage of things to do here for families with kids. Saturday began with Marc and Owen running another 5K. Marc won overall (is this getting boring to you yet?) and Owen took third in the 14 and under age group with a PR of 41:05. I am so completely proud of her since she set her sights on a PR and, to use her words, "smoked that little girl" at the finish. In effect, she stalked a little girl who, was probably 7 or 8 years old, and was out in front of her the whole way. Owen took her in the very end because she ran a smart race. This sweet little towhead of a competitor, who kept looking over her shoulder the whole way, was passed by my girl in the last 1/2 mile or so. Basically, Owen took the medal right out of her hands and I know that cutie was disappointed. But, I have to admit, I was so proud of Owen for working hard to get her in the end, not knowing the age divisions or where they would place at the finish. Marc had a PR, too, which is so great, and we are so proud. Success for him seems to come so easily in sports. Success for me was the boy behaved in the jogging stroller and sat tight the whole way, happy to take in the sights and relax in the recline position.

After the 5K was a would-be carnival that was (what else?) rained out. We went out to lunch with our friends, instead, to a riverside cafe that is way overrated. Then it was onto the exhibit at the museum and the craft for kids that followed the tour. The evening was marked with dinner from Panera, carmel apples, and then the haunted house at the theatre. The haunted house was really cool, and since it was pouring rain outside, it seemed appropriate to be inside a dismal setting. There are always so many activities for the kids....and into this week is no different. In addition to all of the normal after school sports and extracurriculars, we have swim team pictures, sculpture night at school, 2 costume parties to attend, one brunch and one pumpkin carving party. Outside looking in, it seems our lives are so busy and full of really wonderful people and pastimes. This is true, but I still feel like no one quite gets me. I am really missing my girlfriends, so it was therapeutic to have Roberta here to fill the void, if only for 24 hours.

Today I woke up dreading another week ahead, but I had a huge high when my cranky swim coach used the word "perfect" to describe my stroke at the 6 am workout. He not only said it was "better", he actually told me the last 100 was "perfect". I could have walked on the water at that point, I was so happy. I got in the water a little late after the run, and was happy to see he was busy with another man, picking on that poor soul, telling him he needed a clam digger to go with his stroke. I slipped into my lane, but because the pool is small, there is no where to hide. Coach was hovered over my lane within minutes, barking instruction, but actually doling out praise, too. This was a first. The breakthrough for me seems to have finally happened now that coach Don has completely overhauled my stroke. My shoulders know a pain they have never known before, but at least I feel inspired to feel like I know how to swim properly. It has really motivated me in ways I never thought it would to get me to the pool. I have come to love that decrepit little old man as he hobbles along side the pool. Today, I looked at him and he looked so fragile, telling me the same story he always tells me....he was the "first person to go under a minute in the 100 fly" oh so many years ago. I looked at coach Don and saw a human under the rough exterior and for a fleeting moment, I really liked him, despite his rude demeanor and constant bragging. I felt a little twang of love and compassion for this man who is so difficult to enjoy being near under most circumstances. For a moment, I was terrified to think of him not showing up at the pool anymore and it made me pause to think that I must try to enjoy every moment I have with his coaching and really take in what he has to teach me. He is as mean as the day is long, but he knows swimming. Old, he may be, but sharp as a tack and completely verse in the most up-to-date techniques in the pool.

Once over my swimming high, I came back to the grief of feeling homesick in light of the fires destroying Southern Cal. I am so horribly sad to know that we are not among family and friends at home. I hate that fires are raging, and that San Diego is basically gone and we are not there to comfort and protect our parents. We are not there to commiserate and evacuate and gather belongings and hole up together. I am sad to learn our old neighborhood has been evacuated and the fire rages on with no signs of containment. I am grieved to see my old church (and preschool I attended) in Malibu burned to the ground. As demented as it sounds, wildfires are like an old acquaintance to me. I am comfortable with them, though I do not like them, and they are a way of life in Southern California. The idea of hurricanes or tornadoes terrifies me, but fires are not at all unexpected or terribly horrifying. As long as there is no loss of life, I am okay with fires. It doesn't make sense to me, but I wish we were there with my sister and Marc's parents, braving the storm together. At least we would be together.