Sometimes You Just Have to Laugh

I got summoned for jury duty a couple of weeks ago. I did not really want to go, just because going to courtrooms and stuff right now really remind me of Jamie's death and what we face ahead. I really did not feel ready, however I reported to do y duty that morning. In my mind, I kept thinking that maybe I could get out of it somehow, maybe they would not need me, something would work out and I would not have to stay. But no, I was definitely selected for the jury. As I sat in the jury box, I began to feel like I could handle it, like I was okay.
The judge asked us whether we could be impartial or if we'd had any experiences that could taint our judgement or feelings of the case. It was not a murder case, it was an assault case. I was starting to speak up, to say that maybe I would not be the best candidate right now for this case, but the judge kept talking. I took it as a sign, that maybe it wasn't a big deal, that it would be okay, as the assault was not of the same nature as what happened to Jamie, though it was violent.
As the prosecutor questioned each one of us about our personal lives (which was WAY uncomfortable for me, to be expected to tell about my family and where we live and what we do, as both the accuser and the defendant look on, but that's another story), when she got to me, she said that she'd seen me trying to say something earlier and asked what it was. I calmly told her that I had had a recent murder in my family. She said sorry and asked me was it someone close to me. I could not answer her and the tears sat in my eyes. I did not expect the rush of emotions, and felt SO embarrassed, as the courtroom was very full of people. I felt so vulnerable. I finally shook my head yes, and the tears began to overflow. So there I was, on the jury stand, in front of bunches of strangers, on my first trial ever, and I am crying HARD. I remember hearing them talking and moving to dismiss me and asking me to have a seat back where the other people were sitting. I was so overcome that I just wanted to sit in the back, so I tried to see and walk my way back there. But the judge thought that I was trying to leave, and he had previously told us that no one could leave the courtroom for any reason until he said so.
So he very politely says my name and asks me to come back and sit down. I was only trying to hide in the back, not leave, but it did not matter, now I was really humiliated. He was just doing his job, I know that he did not mean to cause more harm. This kind lady on the first row cleared space for me and helped me sit down. I sat there loudly crying and sniffling, trying so hard to stop. But it was one of those cries like when you are little and keep doing that sniffle and jerking thing. Later when the judge allowed us to leave, I felt relieved to be escaping from the crowd and the people who'd just seen my meltdown. The officer who let us out was so kind to me, but I almost ran him over trying to get through the door. I got through the door ready to breathe a little easier away from everyone-- but there were crowds and crowds of people out there too. I was still crying so hard, I could not even see straight. The sweet lady from earlier led me back to the main jury room. I sat back in my chair and cried for maybe another 25 minutes or so. I remember watching the hands on the clock as they moved. Every time that I would deep breathe and finally think that I was calming down, another wave of grief would come over me and I'd start up all over again. A very nice lady asked if she could help me and gave me the tissue that I needed. Once I finally felt like I had the physical strength to move, I went into the bathroom to call my mother. She was great and told me to just get it all out. As I crouched in the bathroom stall, still embarassed at my meltdown and all of the people who saw it, she reminded me that it was the anniversary of his death today and told me that she too, was having a very hard day. That day is a hard day every month for all of us, especially his mother and siblings.
We talked for a bit more and as I got myself together mentally, I cleaned my face and pulled out my makeup. I was going to reapply it and pull myself together before I went back out to the jury room, with my red, puffy eyes and all. As I put my makeup back on, this lady came out of a stall and told me she was sorry for my loss. She'd been in the courtroom earlier and saw everything that happened. She said that she felt the same way I did, and was praying that she was not selected for the jury. Her husband had been murdered around 2 years ago and she said that the courtroom that we'd been in was the one where his trial took place. She said she knew my pain. I told her how strong I'd felt that morning, like I would be fine, and how the grief takes over me at random times. She fully understood. We talked quite awhile about the pain, anger, sadness, etc., that both of us wished we did not know so well. I thank God that she shared her experience with me. I was so embarrassed about going back out of the bathroom, seeing all of the people out there who might be looking at me with my red eyes, but her story and kindness reminded me that this is life. Good and bad, tears and a meltdown, this is my life. I decided that I was not embarrassed that my emotions overtook me. That's just how it goes sometimes. That pain will always probably be there, just under the surface, even on my "good" days. That is okay. I've lost someone so dear to my heart, and my heart will always be broken. It may strengthen and begin to heal, but will always remain altered from its original state.
As I told my sister and best friend what happened later that night, the whole situation just made me laugh. Yes, laugh. And hard. As I pictured myself trying to run down those little steps of the jury box and trying to discreetly sit on the back row, then being called out loudly by the judge, then trying so hard to make myself not cry so loud that I ended up almost snorting, then being so relieved to get out of the courtroom that I almost ran the deputy over, then intermmittently crying and deep breathing-which made my whole body shake, to cramming myself in a bathroom stall to talk on the phone-it just made me laugh. I laughed SO hard. And it felt good. A long, healing,guttural, from the depths of my soul laugh. I just imagined what Jamie would say and how we might have laughed about it at the end of the day. I'm grateful for all of the moments in my life. I will always try to make sweet lemonade out of the sour lemons that roll my way.
Peace, love, and happiness and soft tissues...


***My playlist's first song's title sounds morbid, but I really love this song because it reminds me of my cousin and our long talks about different kinds of music.