Back To Normal Or Something Like It

Friday morning I arrived safely back into Dubai. The 13 hour flight was nice, despite serving as a pillow for the Indian woman seated next to me for a large majority of the trip. I didn’t sleep much, but I did keep myself entertained by watching Toy Story 1 and 2 (because obviously that what’s you do when you’re all grown up and travel by yourself) and used the onboard telephone to text my dad and Stacy. I even felt proud of myself, as I was able to navigate my way through the airport all alone, and instructed the cabby which streets to turn onto for the fastest route to my apartment. In felt nice to be back.

Sunday morning I arrived at the training college to join a new group for the last week and a half of training. I had mentally prepared to be surrounded by a whole new group of people who didn’t know me, didn’t know my story, and that I would be completely fine. I walked into the class, and immediately found out that I had joined a group that was finishing their last two days of training. I assumed I would need to repeat the entire week and a half, so this through me for a loop. Normally, I would have taken this slight change of plans in stride and rolled with the punches. However, normal just went flying out the window two weeks ago, so instead I started hysterically sobbing in front of the entire class. Thankfully, the Emirates’ staff was exceptionally kind. The trainers quickly ushered me out of class, and had me meet with an induction specialist who had a background in counseling. The induction specialist then arranged for me to be put in with a class who was just starting the service section, and for the past two days I have been doing well in my new group.

Every situation I now enter feels completely different than ever before. Thankfully, this whole grief process is very new to me. I have lost three of my grandparents, who I loved dearly, but they were all in their 70’s and had led full lives. With my mom, it’s different. I feel like we were all watching a great romantic comedy, her favorite kind of movie. We had already watched the important parts of the film, the climax of the story line had already occurred, but we of course wanted to watch the last 20 minutes of the film, just to see how all the loose ends played out. Except, I feel like right as the last 20 minutes of the film were approaching the DVD stopped spinning, the screen went black, and BAM no more movie! I wanted to see the last 20 minutes!!!!

I’ve heard grief comes and goes in waves, and so far that seems to be very true. I have moments where I am doing fine, and even give myself little pep talks, “Wow, self, look at you! You’re handling this beautifully!”

Then, within an hour I’m a complete mess and doing everything within my power to refrain from hitting purchase on the one way ticket to Saint Louis I have pulled up on my laptop. Once again, my friends here in Dubai have been incredible supportive, and I have not spent a night alone yet. Nothing Earth shaking exciting this week (i.e. no camel riding), but it’s just been nice to go out to dinner, go to the beach, or as was the case last night, lay on a friend’s couch in my sweats and just have them listen as I blew snot out my nose.

As my mom reminded me in her last letter to me, God communicates to us all the time, it’s just a matter of us being observant. I continue to see signs even in Dubai. After writing my last post, the key theme of my mom and I always being connected has really stayed with me.

I have never been much of a saver, but my one exception has always been personal letters. During my time at home last week, I went through my box of old letters, and without reading them, I pulled out all the notes I could find with mom’s handwriting on them, and packed them into my suitcase so that I could read them once I was back in Dubai. I have been bringing those letters out to read over the past couple nights, and have once again been reminded of what a truly awesome mom I have! Here are a couple that were too cool not to share.


Written to me in 1997 while I was attending my very first Girl Scout Summer Camp.


A note mom had left me when I was little, and they had gone away for a weekend seedcorn meeting.