How depressed can I make you?

Today is the beginning of a new week, but yesterday was the end of a very difficult, very sad week for me. And, today started off pretty rough as well. Due to the economy, Hall county, the school system I work for, has laid off around 100 employees. I found out Friday that I am one of those because of my lack of seniority, and I've known it was coming for days. It was just hanging there over my head, with no definite news and everyone looking at me and the others that got the same news like we had a terminal illness. I get to finish out the school year, and I draw a paycheck until Aug 31, and my benefits run through September -- a definite best case senario for someone being laid off. But, my contract will not be renewed as of right now. I was sad on Friday, but fairly quickly came to grips with it. Life must go on. This morning, our phone woke us up, and we were told that our preacher died suddenly of a heart attack early this morning. It was completely unexpected. Anyone who knows me knows I have not been happy at our church for a while now, but it was still really sad news. Even now, Andy and I keep repeating that we just can't believe it's happened. In the car, on the way to and from church today, the kids were watching Mr. Magorium's Wonder Imporium, which is, to me, one of the absolute best movies of all time. I love it, and I get choked up every time I see it. The batteries in Alli's headphones were dead, so we all listened to it in the car. For any of you who haven't seen it, I'm about to ruin a big part of the movie, but here goes. We were at the part when Mr. Magorium "departs" and Molly Mahoney, the girl who he's leaving his store to, is completely upset about it, and Mr. Magorium gives her this little speech:

Mr. Magorium: When King Lear dies in Act V, do you know what Shakespeare has written? He's written "He dies." That's all, nothing more. No fanfare, no metaphor, no brilliant final words. The culmination of the most influential work of dramatic literature is "He dies." It takes Shakespeare, a genius, to come up with "He dies." And yet every time I read those two words, I find myself overwhelmed with dysphoria. And I know it's only natural to be sad, but not because of the words "He dies." but because of the life we saw prior to the words. I've lived all five of my acts, Mahoney, and I am not asking you to be happy that I must go. I'm only asking that you turn the page, continue reading... and let the next story begin. And if anyone asks what became of me, you relate my life in all its wonder, and end it with a simple and modest "He died."
Molly Mahoney: [starting to sob] I love you.
Mr. Magorium: I love you, too. Your life is an occasion. Rise to it.

I could listen to it over and over again. I'm not trying to be really deep or overly dramatic here, but, as sad as the past several days have been, the best thing to do is turn the page. That's what I'm trying to tell myself as I return to my job tomorrow that I can't help but wonder if is a waste of my time at this point, and if anyone appreciates. But, there's now the hope of something different. And, while I was not very close to our preacher, I can't help but think about his family and what they're feeling right now, and how turning the page must seem near impossible. I don't generally blog when I feel this way, and I may regret sharing all of this and delete it tomorrow, but for some reason I feel like sharing right now. So that's me today.