This week is going to be a week of lasts. It’s my final week of work before moving to Canada and (hopefully many weeks afterward) bringing Thumper home.
For various reasons, three out of my five scheduled home visits decided to cancel today. I was able to reschedule two of them for later in the week, so my last visit with them will happen later. But today, I had two (and a half) last visits with families. One of my dads answered the door but then proceeded to tell me it wasn’t a good day. The kiddo I was supposed to see was having a bad day, for no discernible reason, which isn’t unheard of for him, unfortunately. He did ask if I wanted to pop in and say goodbye, even as I could hear the little guy crying from the back of the house. Instead, I opted to say my “take care” from the front door, telling this dad that last week was such a good visit, we should go ahead and leave it at that.
So far, it hasn’t been as difficult as I might have imagined to say goodbye to these families. After all, I do it all the time when a child turns 3 and transitions out of the program, or when they’ve made such phenomenal progress they no longer need our services. Still, I thought this week might be different. I’m not just saying goodbye to families.
With the free time I had after two morning cancellations, I started packing up my office, sorting through what had collected on and around my desk over the last 5 1/2 years. It wasn’t me but my coworkers who started to wax sentimental then. I’ve worked with them on a daily basis for much longer than most of the families I’ve seen–at most–once a week.
I still have four more days with them, but I’ll miss them. A time is coming when I may not have regular adult conversation. When I’ll be at home with a baby all day. And as much as I’m looking forward to that time, I’m sure it will take some getting used to.
We have not yet received official word on the status of Hubby’s work permit. We’re expecting to hear something this week, but even if we don’t, Friday is my last day of work. I’ve been telling families and coworkers that I’m leaving for months, and I’m tired of dragging it out. And if we do get the work permit this week, I didn’t want to have to drag things out here for another two weeks.
So the end is nearing. After this week, Mondays will lose a little of their power. No longer the first day back at work after a weekend that may or may not have gone by too fast, it will become the day Hubby goes back to work, leaving me at home to nest and eventually care for our child. It will become its own kind of weekly goodbye.