Saying Goodbye
This numb feeling scares me. It is exactly how I felt when I got the call about the flooding in Cabaret. The same nothingness I felt standing in the shower after I found out that Maggie died. It’s the absence of emotion I felt after the earthquake. It’s the empty hole I feel whenever I try to imagine someone other than Pastor John saying, “you may now kiss the bride.” at my wedding. It’s a pain so deep you can’t quite access it. So ‘nothing’ fills its place.
Every morning when I step out on my balcony and look out at my garden I feel the rush of emotion shooting up to my throat. I quickly turn around and keep myself busy making coffee or planning out my day.
When I talk to Patris and hear the pain is his voice, my eyes instantly yearn for the tears to start flowing, so we start talking about the bread I need to order for the orphanage.
I’m nervous about tomorrow. I know I won’t be able to keep it all down. I am beginning to understand Haitian grieving. Throwing yourself on the ground, screaming you heart out and crying out in pain. It get’s all that emotion out. It accesses how you really feel. I want to scream out, I am in pain. I want to throw myself down on the ground and just lay there until my tears turn the dust on my face to mud. But instead I throw up all night and wait for the tears to come.
Someone killed someone I love, I don’t know whom, and I don’t know why. My mind just can’t seem to grasp that it’s true.
Since I first came to Haiti the Aristhome family took me under their wing and loved me like one of their own. They never expected anything from me, the never asked me for a dime. They just poured out unconditional love. They’re taken care of me when I was sick, they’ve prayed for me for everything and anything, they’ve helped me move, they’ve helped me paint, they’ve invited me for dinner when they knew I would be homesick, they have been my Haitian family since day one.
But now we say goodbye to the patriarch of this amazing family. Jolibris my dear friend has been laid to rest. Tomorrow we will meet together next to a bridge, and under a tree to celebrate his life, to say goodbye to my Haitian Dad.
I am heartbroken. Jolibris will be missed every single day.
Rachel
Every morning when I step out on my balcony and look out at my garden I feel the rush of emotion shooting up to my throat. I quickly turn around and keep myself busy making coffee or planning out my day.
When I talk to Patris and hear the pain is his voice, my eyes instantly yearn for the tears to start flowing, so we start talking about the bread I need to order for the orphanage.
I’m nervous about tomorrow. I know I won’t be able to keep it all down. I am beginning to understand Haitian grieving. Throwing yourself on the ground, screaming you heart out and crying out in pain. It get’s all that emotion out. It accesses how you really feel. I want to scream out, I am in pain. I want to throw myself down on the ground and just lay there until my tears turn the dust on my face to mud. But instead I throw up all night and wait for the tears to come.
Someone killed someone I love, I don’t know whom, and I don’t know why. My mind just can’t seem to grasp that it’s true.
Since I first came to Haiti the Aristhome family took me under their wing and loved me like one of their own. They never expected anything from me, the never asked me for a dime. They just poured out unconditional love. They’re taken care of me when I was sick, they’ve prayed for me for everything and anything, they’ve helped me move, they’ve helped me paint, they’ve invited me for dinner when they knew I would be homesick, they have been my Haitian family since day one.
But now we say goodbye to the patriarch of this amazing family. Jolibris my dear friend has been laid to rest. Tomorrow we will meet together next to a bridge, and under a tree to celebrate his life, to say goodbye to my Haitian Dad.
I am heartbroken. Jolibris will be missed every single day.
Rachel
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