The Beginning of the End, or the End of the End

Yesterday was my last day at work.

I wandered around saying bye to folks, not sure if my goodbyes were going to get lost in the flurry of farewells as hundreds of years of journalism experience left the newspaper in one day.

I'd like to think I made a positive impact on my co-workers. I'd like to think I can take lessons I've learned here and apply them to new jobs.

There's still so much to do, I feel like I haven't had time to grieve, as silly as that sounds.

My friends all seem really upset by the people leaving, but I'm merely puzzled by that. I guess I liken it to being somewhat of a sociopath. I see that people are upset, but I just can't empathize, not yet at least.

My husband says, "Imagine it like this: You were in a job you hated and made your life miserable 8 hours a day. Imagine that you were staying. And then you realized that not only was it going to get worse, but that people who made it pleasant were leaving."

One friend says it won't hit me until I'm back home and something happens that I want to share with one of my Best Westers.

I don't know. I think I'm holding it together pretty well.

My husband says my massive headaches and gnawed-on thumbs beg to differ.