I dread Saturday. I'm afraid of it. That isn't even slightly rational. Saturday will be a year from when mom died. My culture doesn't have a ritual for that. It would be easier if we did. It seems right to acknowledge and mark the day and yet it feels self-indulgent. I've been fighting back tears for a week.
Saturday is the next meeting of my philosophy class. I should meet with my professor after class to discuss the big, bad paper that is due the following week. I know if I meet with him I'll end up crying. I hate that, but how can I talk about writing and philosophy on the anniversary of mom's death without getting all emotional.
I want to take a few days off from work and school to wallow. I want to rub ashes on my face and wail. But mine is a culture of stoicism. So I will go to work and on Saturday I'll put on my public face, go to class, and try not to cry.
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