Crying Over Street Signs

I remember the first time I went back to Denison after my mom died 3 years ago. It wasn't long after the funeral. After all, my Daddy still lived there. It may have been a week or so after the funeral.

As I drove on the street that connects the highway to their home I noticed that all of the street signs had been changed. The city had updated them. The street names were all the same, the signs were just newer. A subtle change of little consequence.

I bawled.

I cried and cried and cried.

I didn't immediately understand why I was so upset about street signs. I finally figured out that I didn't want the world to march on after Momma died. New street signs were a symbol of how time was marching on. I wanted to stay put in the days surrounding the end of her life because it felt like if I did I could at least hang on to a small part of her. I sure didn't (and don't) want to let go.

Time marching on meant time marching on without Momma. To paraphrase a recent line from an episode of Grey's Anatomy, "I don't know how to exist in a world where my Mom doesn't."

I thought about those street signs this morning as I read about classes resuming at Virginia Tech. I thought about 33 families for whom classes won't ever resume.

I know that the survivors need to march on. My heart this morning, however, is with those who would do anything to make it stop.