At today’s session I was leaving my counselor’s office and I was walking down the hall of this office building.
I walked by glass door after glass door of empty offices. So many empty offices. In one particular one there were envelopes piled up as they were slipped under the door.
I stopped….sat down in the hall….and cried.
Something triggered me and I couldn’t figure out why. It didn’t take long though.
I grew up in a small town in northwest Missouri. My dad worked many jobs to make things work. He drove a trash truck early. He then drove a school bus. Next was the meat packing plant.
5 kids. Me and my 4 sisters.
Many nights at our house the phone would ring and there would be a creditor on the other end. Many envelopes. Many bills.
Those envelopes made me think of my dad. He worked so hard and when he died, he had no debt. None. He had no money, but he had no debt. But what it really made me think of…how much pressure he must have been under. And he never let it show. Who was looking out for him? Who was standing up for him? Who was helping him?
No one.
I don’t pretend to know what that felt like for my dad. I can’t.
What I do know is as I looked at those envelopes under the door, I suddenly felt very alone. Afraid even. I felt 12. I wondered if anyone would look out for me, stand up for me. I realized I’ve spent most of my life wondering that.
I suppose that’s the whole purpose of this journey. To reprocess the events that unfolded and to do so in a different light. Today’s light. Not yesterday’s shadows.
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