Tim left town a couple weeks ago for a business trip. He was leaving just Sunday through Wednesday, and as much as I knew I would miss him, I felt ok to be alone.
In preparation for him leaving, I decided I would work on a few projects, most of which were on my computer – things like designing a new website (yes, I’m serious).
So day one comes and a friend and I plan to spend the day cranking out some work for our small strategic planning business we do with non-profits (akron on purpose). We have a very productive morning and afternoon. By evening we are cruising when suddenly I spill my water on my computer.
First, I should note that I am an Apple computer fan through and through! In fact, I ask every person we interview at First Glance if they are Mac or PC. I own a christmas bulb with an Apple logo, and when Steve Jobs died (the CEO of Apple) many people sent me texts of condolences. So to spill water on my computer is a heartbreaking on a good day.
This night spilling water on my laptop wasn’t overwhelming me. In this season of grief, losing a computer is not a big deal… even an Apple (I know I can’t believe I’m saying it either). But the truth is that I don’t care about the money. I don’t care that I would have to buy a new one. It’s a “thing.” In those moments my frame of mind is, “my baby died, who cares if I have to buy a new computer,” which was exactly what I thought as I drove to a nearby store to buy rice.
Soon I was sitting beside my wet computer in my recently purchased laptop bag full of rice. At first I was annoyed by the slow down of productivity, but by the end of the night, I felt completely paralyzed and sad.
Again, it wasn’t the loss of computer. That night it became obvious that I had planned so many things for these four days because it was a distraction. This was one of the last official plans we made with the anticipation of a baby. Tim and I had talked about this trip months ago. “Will you be ok working and taking care of the baby if I go to Atlanta for this trade show?” I replied, “Yes.” I was confident I would be. But now the trip is here, and Enoch is not. There is no child care to worry about, work schedules to figure out or late night feedings alone.
In addition something I hadn’t thought about until I posted a picture of my laptop in the bag of rice, is that people would ask what happened to my computer, and I would have to type the words “it died.” I haven’t typed that word on my little screen in the last three months unless in reference to my son. I tried to figure out other ways of talking about the outcome, because I couldn’t write those words, not without thinking about my son.
Four days without Tim, my computer dies, the void becomes obvious, and there are no more distractions. Just me and the empty room that my son should be in.