Sometimes, at night, missing Lev makes me not want to go to sleep. But, on the other hand, sleep is an escape from missing him, and is usually a relief.
Jaal left over a week ago, and, as expected, the build up to his leaving was worse than the actual departure.
We have been busy and we are planning a visit back to Seattle in just a couple weeks. Keeping busy with Liana, too.
Being in Monteverde has been really nice, but hard in some ways. It is so nice to be back, somewhere we still have friends that knew Lev, and somewhere with such good memories. And, it's a nice little life we have here. But, I keep running into people that didn't know Lev died. Since I was a school director in this small town, everyone knew me and my boys. So, when we get to talking they ask how my kids are doing. It happens about once every two weeks that I tell the story about what happened to Lev. Yet it has happened every day for the last three days. One was a guide on our road as I was bringing the garbage out. Another was a taxi driver, who is the uncle of a good friend of Lev's so I thought he knew. (He was a little surprised to hear Jaal left and I was still here with Liana because he had assumed I was the grandma.) And, another was someone I didn't even remember, but they remembered that I had two boys. In general I think the Costa Ricans know how to respond to tragedy more smoothly than North Americans. They just say how hard it must be, how difficult, and then leave it at that. Somehow it is less awkward. North Americans always feel badly for asking, like they intruded on a private matter and then they don't know what to say, so I have to reassure them that it's okay.
Or maybe it's just that I have gotten used to the conversation since it has happened so much.
Rebecca Goertzel, M.A.Ed
School Improvement Consultant
Monteverde, Costa Rica
