Friday, February 1, 2013
Here's a middle finger scenario.
I struggle to convey loss and hurt and in turn inadvertently make it about myself. Are there instructions for this? It sucks -- the world has one less awesome person. It needs to be known. You need to be told what you are maybe not aware of. Grief greets me at death and this is what comes next.
To say I feel lucky is a bit misleading. To use the word glad in any sense makes me seem insensitive. I am not happy. I am sad. A chunk of my childhood now feels dipped in bronze for posterity. The trajectory of a grown-up friendship has been dashed. Beyond me and my self-centeredness, someone that lived is gone.
But the suffering is over and this is where I find relief. I did get to share experiences that are mine and only mine, and for that I am grateful -- almost possessive. And I got to spend time in his hideaway, where photos and art and lush greenery and music lived. They blanketed me with revelations and insight. Imagining his full life comforted me, as did briefly being a part of it in that way.
I am the baby that sometimes put herself on an island. I can and do get lost in wishes and regret, but have to circle back to what experiences I did accrue. I can only imagine how hard this must be for the rest of my family and his closest friends. I find solace and joy in their stories and hope those memories uplift them more than they cause pain.
Love you Charles. To echo your parting words to me, I WILL see you again. And you'll tell me a story matched with a sneer. And we'll laugh.