"She's not a unicorns and rainbows pregnant lady".
I've been wanting to express my feelings on this subject for a while, specifically regarding issues with people my age, anywhere from 25-30, going through this phase where everyone is changing, growing up, and starting to feel tension as differences between friends arise. We all grow up, change and start to need different things from our friends. More contact, less contact, more understanding. The thing is, without us telling people what we want or need from them, they are never going to give it to us. Even then, we have to recognize that not everyone has the experience to develop new relationship skills no matter how old we get, and some people might not be able to give us what we need at all.
Most times when we as a society talk about grief and loss, we seem to be mainly focusing on death. It has always been interesting to me that we seem to be more comfortable grieving the universe's physical loss of a human life form than expressing grief for a lost emotional connection, or "other" grief. It is certainly easier to express, and therefore justify living with the concept of "physical loss" grief, because universally, it is said that the loss of a human life is sad. Death is always sad and you are supposed to be sad when someone dies. If you're supposed to be sad, I guess you're allowed to grieve, and when you're allowed to do something, it can be a lot easier.
I ducked to slump into my car for the commute home, heaving the door closed with what seemed like the last of my energy. It had been a rough day at the office. The key in my ignition felt like it was 1000 pounds, because, as I already mentioned, my energy was used on the whole door thing. I just sat there, unable to turn the key, and wondered about the difference a day made. It seemed like an eternity ago that my body felt energetic and new, that my heart could feel joy... but it was only the night before. I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and drifted back to my happy place.
The shrill ring of the office telephones echo through the dusty cubicle space. The employees, bundled at their desks drinking already cold coffee, curse the maintenance man who still hasn't fixed the air conditioning unit. The pens with the click-y tops... they've been depleted. "Wh-W-Where... are... they?"