So I have been absent, not that it truly matters. But the world constantly crumbles and I think... I'll wait till my head is more together. But really, it wont ever be. I am trying to forget the tumultuous year of financial hardship, adult bullying, academically inspired feelings of inadequacy and of course the slow recovery of the sense of self in the light of many losses of deeply beloved people, places and, indeed, ideas.
But now, I can put those things mostly aside and prepare for new traumas. The summer had few speed bumps. In fact, it may have been the best, calm summer in a long time. I got a great internship that was paid. I got to live in the Avenues in Salt Lake City, which was surprisingly beautiful, diverse and entertaining. My work environment was fantastic, my colleagues were respectful and nice, and I got to fulfill my dreams while getting good pay. My visits home were divine.
Upon returning to Logan I found that my course load was high but manageable, my advisor was enthusiastic about my thesis and downright friendly, not only this, my cohort seems happy, friendly and social.
All the dust seems to be settling. While I will always be waiting for the other shoe to drop (I suspect it will drop tomorrow when my car goes to the dealer to get checked since it wont go uphill has bad tires and the engine light is on) I am happy that tonight I am taking a deep breath and savoring the absence of the total chaos that has been my life for the last couple of years.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
HAPPY 2011!
I am hoping that this entry will be the first of many positive entries for the year. While Christmas time was a disastrous time for my family, including the death of our cousin, and beloved family priest, I feel that the next 12 months will be better.
While I am happy to move on to happy things, I believe a moment of reflection is warranted on this blog for Fr. Richard (Dick) Coz.
Father Dick, as my family called him, officiated at my parents wedding, and at countless family occasions (baptisms, anniversaries, communions, etc.) He was the first cousin of my Grandfather, who passed away in June. They were great friends their whole lives and both served in WW2 and were extremely devoted to the Catholic church. (obviously!) Fr Dick entered the priesthood after serving in the navy and was faithful, dutiful, and true until his death on New Years Eve. He was a wonderful man. He rarely discussed God or politics at the dinnertable. He always told us stories about our grandparents, ancestors, and the world as it was. He kept the records, the stories, the geneaolgies. When I was a senior in High School, he came to teach at my school. I got to see him everyday and chat with him in the halls. He always kept busy, he always laughed, and he always had time to say hi.
At his funeral, on the feast of the epiphany, I was the only family member who was allowed to participate in the service. We drove out to the lovely Mission Church in Santa Clara after gathering at Cousin Bobbie's house for soup. The mission was beautiful and packed full. People kept asking me, was I nervous? After speaking at 2 other funerals in the last 12 months I'm not sure I had any nerves left anyway. I did not feel nervous, mainly because I felt I owed it to Fr Dick. I felt he deserved to have a strong reader pray loudly at his funeral, and this time, it was not about grief or loss, but honor. I wanted to honor the man that had served his community and family so selflessly. So I was not nervous, I read without faltering, and everyone was impressed. which I actually found rather ridiculous.
But I feel, that through the experiences of last year, I have gained alot. I feel like I truly became an adult. I really understand loss better than anything else I experience, but I have gained, too, confidence. I feel like I have walked through my own personal hell and if I can face the deaths of my favorite people, and lose the people who tether me to my identity, that I have a strength that no one can take from me.
While I am happy to move on to happy things, I believe a moment of reflection is warranted on this blog for Fr. Richard (Dick) Coz.
Father Dick, as my family called him, officiated at my parents wedding, and at countless family occasions (baptisms, anniversaries, communions, etc.) He was the first cousin of my Grandfather, who passed away in June. They were great friends their whole lives and both served in WW2 and were extremely devoted to the Catholic church. (obviously!) Fr Dick entered the priesthood after serving in the navy and was faithful, dutiful, and true until his death on New Years Eve. He was a wonderful man. He rarely discussed God or politics at the dinnertable. He always told us stories about our grandparents, ancestors, and the world as it was. He kept the records, the stories, the geneaolgies. When I was a senior in High School, he came to teach at my school. I got to see him everyday and chat with him in the halls. He always kept busy, he always laughed, and he always had time to say hi.
At his funeral, on the feast of the epiphany, I was the only family member who was allowed to participate in the service. We drove out to the lovely Mission Church in Santa Clara after gathering at Cousin Bobbie's house for soup. The mission was beautiful and packed full. People kept asking me, was I nervous? After speaking at 2 other funerals in the last 12 months I'm not sure I had any nerves left anyway. I did not feel nervous, mainly because I felt I owed it to Fr Dick. I felt he deserved to have a strong reader pray loudly at his funeral, and this time, it was not about grief or loss, but honor. I wanted to honor the man that had served his community and family so selflessly. So I was not nervous, I read without faltering, and everyone was impressed. which I actually found rather ridiculous.
But I feel, that through the experiences of last year, I have gained alot. I feel like I truly became an adult. I really understand loss better than anything else I experience, but I have gained, too, confidence. I feel like I have walked through my own personal hell and if I can face the deaths of my favorite people, and lose the people who tether me to my identity, that I have a strength that no one can take from me.
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