Much of my time is now taken up with the logistics of the move and the undoing of my current life. It all takes much effort - writing resignation letters by hand because I don't have a printer (health insurance, phone company, etc.), getting bids for a new dishwasher (the one I received includes only one option costing about twice as much as what I found on the internet) and for the cleaning of the apartment after our departure (when I checked with an acquaintance on what seemed to me a high bid she indeed confirmed that I was getting ripped off). So I have a long list of follow-up calls and more research to do on Monday. Monday also is the day I promised myself I'll start packing up the personal items I will no longer need: skis, snow boots, etc. Most of the time I am going through these motions in a state of numbness because it's too painful to allow myself to feel. I hate being like this, but I have to protect myself any way I can. The other day a woman at the tourist office (where I have been a regular visitor and where they know my story) asked me how the sale and move were coming along - and I had to leave because I was unable to talk, tears choking me.
I gave myself last weekend off and went on two hikes, both firsts, both very rewarding and both very therapeutic. I am hoping to do it again this weekend, although the weather forecast doesn't encourage very ambitious solo hikes. I'll have to play it by ear.
I spent the last two days in St. Gallen, where my aunt lives and where I stayed during most of my childhood vacations. A very dear family friend passed away on July 8th, and the funeral took place a couple of days ago. The funeral gave me the opportunity to visit my aunt. I had not yet seen her since my return from the US because she didn't want me to visit her. She took a clear turn for the worse since I saw her last in May. Her heart failure is making breathing very difficult and the slightest effort or upset gets her out of breath, meaning she is out of breath and unable to do anything, even talk, most of the time. She wants to be left alone, anything is too much to deal with, yet she still appreciated my cooking and sent me shopping with a long list. At the same time she says that she no longer wants overnight guests, but always wants me to stay longer. She is not only ready to enter a nursing home, she is ready to give up on everything. I am finding it very difficult to figure out how I can best help her in these circumstances.
So, as I stood by the grave of my friend Trudi, I was sobbing my heart out, knowing full well that I wasn't crying just for her. I was also crying for my father and for my mother, for all the losses in my life, for the imminent loss of Zuoz, and for the loss of another part of childhood that died with my friend. She and my father had been best friends as children, and I continued the relationship. At the same time I was also crying because I'll probably be back in this cemetery sooner than later, paying my last respects to my aunt. Although she also was very close to Trudi, she is much too frail to attend the ceremony, or to partake in the communal meal that followed.
Last night, waiting for my connecting train in Landquart, I ran into a woman I had just met the previous week, at the picnic of the Ladies' Gym. She lives in the house next to mine, yet, in the 18 months and countless events with that group, we had never met. We chit-chatted during the whole 90 minutes of train we had left. She was returning from visiting her elderly father in a nursing home in Zurich, and so many parallels were made. We parted at the mail boxes and I felt infinitely better than when I boarded the train in St. Gallen. Interestingly, as my friends Tom and Cathey pointed out, I seem so well integrated here, as I constantly run into people I know. Last Saturday, catching my bus after my long hike, I found that the driver was one of the students of the rumantsch class I had taken in the winter of 2010!
On another note: I did not get the job with the Oregon Community Foundation. On the advice of some of my readers I did send an email explaining that I was terribly nervous but would be a great employee... but it could not make up for my poor performance during the interview. I think that the only way I can get a job is by getting interview coaching. Of course I am disappointed since it would have been such a good match for me. At the same time, I am relieved that I don't have to organize a hastened return to the US together with the exit from Zuoz which is now taking all my energy. Fortunately at night I fall asleep quickly and deeply and in the morning I cannot get out of bed. I am giving myself some slack. I know that unconsciously I don't want to get up, because I don't want to face another day of dealing with the logistics of the move. So I am acknowledging it and often grant myself that extra half an hour of bliss between sleep and wakefulness.
Thank you for the notes of support you wrote as comments to the blog, or as personal emails. They do help and definitely make me feel less alone through this ordeal.
Ladies' Gym picnic - in style! The club owns a hut in the fields outside Zuoz.
Tschieva Hut, belonging to the Swiss Alpine Club. From there you climb Piz Bernina, via the famous Bianco ridge. If you look carefully (click on the picture for a full view) you can see a yellow mountain rescue helicopter hovering near the hut.
Zernez church ceiling, with a clearly Italian trend.
The hamlet of Susauna, in the valley of the same name.
I'm so sorry you didn't get the job, but who knows? It might have been awful! I'm also sorry about the sad times you're going through. I hope things improve for you soon. You're doing a good job of coping, even though you feel awful. Hang in there.
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