Heavy Heart

 Let me tell you a little bit about my sister. 

Have you heard of the term "Irish twins"? This phrase (as defined by this website) describes when two children are born to the same mother within twelve months. (Heads up that the phrase itself can be mildly derogatory or offensive.) My parents were married and childless for twelve years and then had two children in the same calendar year. The legend goes that my younger sister Mary Carol did not want to miss Christmas so she was born in December instead of her original due date of February. For a few months every year, we are the exact same age.

My sister and I were close playmates when we were little and my mother even used to dress us alike. We took baton and dance lessons together and were part of a Saturday bowling league. As we got older, we tried to distinguish ourselves from the other. We shared friends but as we went through high school, we had different interests and passions. In high school, I was the "bookish one" and my sister was the "musical one". She was a gifted trumpet player and organist and would travel with the school band all over the world. (We used to work weddings and funerals at our local church - she'd play the organ and I would sing.) In university, I went to York and studied English and French/Humanities; she went to the University of Toronto and studied Sociology and Music History. We weren't as close as when we were younger. In the early 2000s, she moved to Alberta.

Circumstances changed recently and she had the opportunity to move back to Ontario. She and her husband bought a beautiful house in the Kawartha Lakes region. They were excited to find jobs here so they could be closer to their families. It was lovely to have her in the same province. Our different lifestyles in our 20s and 30s (family structure, leisure activities, priorities, careers) weren't as pronounced or didn't seem to matter as much now that we were both in our 40s. We bonded over the shared challenges of dealing with extended family issues and a common history. The pandemic threw a wrench into our plans, of course. We weren't able to see each other almost at all due to stay-at-home orders and other restrictions. We couldn't even have them over for the holidays.

Then came the bad news: neither my sister nor her husband were able to find jobs that would pay them a decent wage. The glorious house (a converted school house from the 1920s) had serious flaws that cost a lot of money to fix. They had to make a very hard decision that was hard to accept but in the end was the wisest choice for them; they are moving back to Alberta. 

I am crushed. It's hard even to type these words. I'm trying to think positively. It's not the end of the world. I know things could be much worse. Still, this rationalizing doesn't do much to make me less sad about this loss. 

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The unfortunate thing is that I'm experiencing parallel losses right now.

Replace "my sister" with "my students". 

Explain "circumstances changed" by noting the switch from a library placement to a classroom teaching job.

Repeat "it was lovely". Note that I missed library but enjoyed my Grade 5-6s.

Repeat "the pandemic threw a wrench into our plans".

Explain "then came the bad news" by noting the decision for students to not return to in-person learning in June 2021.

Repeat "a very hard decision that was hard to accept but in the end was the wisest choice".

And again: I am crushed. It's hard even to type these words. I'm trying to think positively. It's not the end of the world. I know things could be much worse. Still, this rationalizing doesn't do much to make me less sad about this loss. 

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ETA  I plan on visiting my sister sometime this summer, pandemic be damned. I plan on dropping things off and picking things up from my students' homes so I can at least see them in person one more time before the end of June, time be damned. This makes the sadness sting a little less.