Feeling a little Maundy

OK, so that really doesn't make sense. According to dictionary.com, "maundy" means:

maundy \Maun"dy\, n. 1. The sacrament of the Lord's Supper. [Obs.]2. The ceremony of washing the feet of the poor on Maundy Thursday.3. The alms distributed in connection with this ceremony or on Maundy Thursday.
Note: In England, the foot washing is obsolete, but the ``royal maundy'' is distributed annually on behalf of the sovereign. Since 1890 this distribution has been made from Westminster Abbey.

I didn't sleep well last night. I have work stuff on my mind and vibrant pregnancy memories circle when I close my eyes. And my skin feels tingly all over (what on earth is that all about???). So, in celebration of Maundy-ness, I feel Maundy. That is, tired, a little defeated, ready for a nice Easter Holiday. Not very sacrament-minded of me, is it? Doubt that was what Jesus was thinking on Maundy Thursday, "gee, feeling a little tired here in Gethsemane. I know what I need - a nice three day Passover holiday. But Passover is so last year. I think I will call it....Easter."

So, now that I have managed to insult both Jews and Christians, I will carry on with my Maundy little post.

Today I did one of those things at work where you start a project and realize that it is eight times bigger than what you can possibly manage in the time that is allotted and since now you have started there is no getting out of it. sigh. When will I grow out of that?

And speaking of work, yesterday's meeting was a success, really a culmination of months worth of work that I did. There are few times when you get your well-earned kudos, and yesterday was not about kudos. But it was the final step in a seemingly infinite process.

The CEO of our company was at the meeting. After we left and my mind had the chance to wander, I began to wonder if he remembered my name. He (his office) sent a letter of condolence when our son died. I wonder if they do that for any employee who has a family member die. Or was it because ours was "the worst loss".* Does he even know that he signed a letter of condolence that was sent to me? Did I impress him with my ability to do quality work after experiencing such a horrific event?

When I got home, I discovered that a relative's obituary had been mailed to me. This person had died several months ago, and I was under the impression that an obituary hadn't been written. I was pleasantly surprised to know that it had been written (the deceased deserved that type of public recognition). Even more importantly, to me, was that they had included my son's name in the list of people that had predeceased my relative.

I don't think that the person who wrote the obituary will ever know how much significance they have given me, my husband, and my son by including his name in that list. I don't always feel like my relations really acknowledge my son, and those 4 words in the obituary made my son's existence a part of our family history. To die, you must have lived. To be a relative worth mentioning as predeceased, you must have been a person, a person of importance. Though no one every mentions him or speaks his name, 4 words have gone a long way to create importance and significance for my son. I don't think I am doing a very good job of expressing how meaningful this is to me.

I have never in my life been so happy when reading the obituary of a dear relative.

Now...to attack the mountain of paperwork on my desk that threatens to topple and end my brief existence on this earth. As Will would say:

Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more.
It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

*Rant on - yeah, I get tired of hearing from the un-bereaved parents of the world about how the death of one's child is the worst thing that could ever happen in the world. It is the worst thing that has ever happened to me. But if my husband and my son had died at the same time, that would be worse. Or if the rest of my extended family was wiped out in a plane crash, that would be worse. Things can always get worse. Why do we need to compare terrible things by using the word "worst"? Yeah, I actually do believe that it is probably way more traumatic to bury your child than to bury your parent. But both suck. So why compare? - Rant off.