Mood: crushed out
Now Playing: Forever Young by Alphaville
Topic: Daily Eruptions
I miss Hans. I thought about him throughout the day yesterday, collecting thoughts like always to try to remember to tell him in the evening. Each time, I would have to stop and remember that he was gone, and each time, there was a small note of sadness. I love missing him! It's good. Makes me realize all the small ways that sharing my life with him brings me joy and comfort, even though we drive each other so crazy. When I told him this on the phone last night, he said, "Well I get joy and comfort out of driving you crazy, too, honey."
He's exhausted and yesterday was hit by the full force of what it means that he will be launching and running this call center next week. Sounds like I won't be seeing much of him the rest of the summer, even when we are back to sleeping under the same roof.
On my drive home yesterday, I made the mistake of turning on NPR. As usual, they made me cry, and while I am becoming an expert at driving while crying (the lead foot and road rage even subside for those few minutes), I really wish it happened less often. This time, the story was Melissa Block's final interview of a group of medical students in a gross anatomy class at the University of Maryland. Read more about the series or listen here. I had heard the first installment in the series when it aired in 2004, so I was glad to hear the last. This one dealt with the emotions each student felt in terms of her relationship with her body donor. One woman commented that it was clear that her donor may have been receiving medical care for his illness, but had been lacking in other basic care, evidenced by things such as long toenails that no one had helped him clip. She talked about how that made her feel when she learned her arthritic neighbor was upset because her daughter hadn't been over to visit and help her clip her fingernails.
At this point, I was sobbing audibly--it kills me that Melissa Block doesn't tear up in these interviews--and on any other day, Hans (maybe choked up a little himself) would have reached over and put his hand on my knee. I realized that now that we have the second car and are no longer commuting together, my knee is going to be very lonely and often sad.
Thoughts captured by Kristine
at 11:50 PM EDT
Updated: Thursday, June 30, 2005 11:54 PM EDT