Is this good-bye, old friend? So soon? I’m not ready.
I’m sitting at my desk crying for no reason; it’s not time to mourn. Not yet. It just feels potentially imminent, and I’m not ready for you to go. How selfish of me, I know. I sit here in this sort of quiet space, listening to the city noises beyond these windows and I wonder what you see, and what you’re aware of, right now. I wonder if you are in pain, and if you’re “okay”… for some values of okay… and I wonder what fills your dreams as twilight comes.
…We are mortal creatures…
You’ve been one of my truest and dearest friends for so long… missing you will be hard. I know you are surrounded by family and people who love you. I know you are not alone. I sit here with my face wet with tears and wonder if there’s time enough yet to see you again, and say good-bye properly, and if I were to do so, whether you would know.
We’ve shared many things. Experiences. Words. Laughter. Moments. You’ve “been there” for me through so many experiences. You’ve been honest, and you’ve been kind. You’ve been a mother, a sister, a best friend, an ally, a teacher… quite a package. You’ve been angry with me. You’ve loved me. You’ve offered me all the wisdom you’ve had to share, and a few jokes, too.
Letting go will be hard. I’ve got decades worth of emails and letters exchanged over time, and I cherish your words… but my life will be diminished in some detectable way, when you have gone. I can’t help but feel it, already. I find myself wondering what was the last post, here, that you read… I don’t know that it matters, at all. I wonder which one meant the most to you, and perhaps that matters a little bit… but… what matters most is simply that you’ve been such a dear friend, for so long, through so much, and I will miss you terribly.
I still catch myself hoping you’ll feel better, make a good recovery, and we’ll perhaps laugh about it later…
I’m sipping the last of my iced coffee and finishing a bowl of oatmeal. Healthier choices are on my mind a lot lately. I look out the window at the stormy looking gray sky and wonder whether the sun will come out, or the day will be rainy. It makes no particular difference, I just wonder.
The hint of blue in the morning sky reflects my mood back at me.
I’m not weeping, nor feeling bereft or despairing. I’m just a tiny bit blue, and contemplating the potential that I may be saying a final good-bye to someone dear to me, if not “soon” for sure sooner than I want to have to face it (which would frankly be not at all). We are mortal creatures. Fucking hell, doesn’t that suck all the damned ballz?? I sigh out loud and think about dear friends, far away family, and peculiarly close others that I feel, sometimes, in my day-to-day experience as “ghosts” of times past. Yes, even in spite of my fondness for solitude, I too am a social creature, and I miss those dear to me whose geographical distance keeps them from being with me “in real life” (isn’t it all “real life” though? email, text messages, phone calls… all real). I make a note to myself to reach out to more of them, more often; time is short and the clock never ever stops ticking.
…Let’s not make that a grim thought, it’s just one of many truths upon which to build our perspective…
I woke once during the night from unpleasant dreams of loss and loneliness and disconnection and mourning. I didn’t stay sad, once I woke. I had reminders of love right there, welcoming me back to the safety and comfort of home. I said a silent thank you to my Traveling Partner for the glow objects he’s added to my space alongside the art I’ve wrought over the years that also helps ground me in my “now” when I wake from a bad dream.
A lotus votive holder and a reminder that I am loved, greet my wakefulness in the night.
I take a breath, exhale, and relax, letting the lingering recollection of my dreams fall away as I watch the sky turn from moody shades of morning blue to shades of gray that threaten more rain. It’s a new day, a new week, and it’s time to begin again.
I am sitting with a glass of iced tea, taking a break from work, and checking the map to see where my Traveling Partner is, on his journey. As if on cue, an old love song about an absent lover plays. My heart is filled with love and gratitude – not just for the solitude for this brief time, but also because it is a “brief time” until I welcome the beloved traveler home to me.
Working from home is pleasant. This quiet time lets me be quite focused and purposeful. I do find that I miss some of those distractions and interruptions, in spite of myself. I mean, I do love that guy, after all. 😀 He’s pretty special. Honestly, there’s not that much different about working from home, from my studio/office. Work is work.
…This tea is good though…
The map tells me my partner has covered about 165 miles or so, since he left (around 09:15 this morning)… here it is shortly past 13:00. Seems like he’s making good progress, though we left the details pretty open and I’m not at all certain what the destination (for today) will actually be – just a sense of approximately where he’s headed. It makes for an adventure even for me, from this vantage point here at home.
…I do miss him quite a bit, and the house seems very still and quiet…
There’s plenty of everyday stuff to get done, and the absence of my Traveling Partner doesn’t change any of that. I start some laundry. Empty the dishwasher. Take out the trash. Have a soak in the hot tub. Getting this solo time was never about doing something spectacular or novel. It’s about freedom to exist for a few days unfettered by expectations, other agendas, and the day-to-day steady consideration of what everyone else around me may need from me. A few days alone with my thoughts, alone with my breathing (and my anxiety), alone with my questions (and my chatter), just… alone, to breathe and to be. Simple stuff. Ideally, he’s getting needs of his own met with this outing that maybe I’m not easily able to meet. I don’t know. I hope so.
…I’m also okay with missing him; he’ll be very much truly and thoroughly welcomed when he returns. 😀 Sometimes it’s really helpful to miss someone, to regain a sense of their value in one’s life, to experience the “without” that is such a poignant reminder of all the wonder of “being with”… you know? My sense of my partner’s absence comes and goes; it’s only been hours. How will it feel once it has been days? I grin at myself; I’m okay alone, but damn I do love that man who is my Traveling Partner.
I finish my tea, finish my break, and begin again.
Queen Elizabeth passed away today. Good long run. An impressive legacy. She didn’t quite make it to 100 years. Seems like more people may be able to in the future, though, and perhaps longer if medical science continues to progress… how amazing would that be?
Juan and Marisa, in love on the beach in 2022… where will they be in 2083? Will their love last? What will they do with their lives? Will they be remembered?
I “went coastal” yesterday, to give my Traveling Partner (breathing)room to work on a complicated project without the unintended distractions of me just being around in the background. I don’t grudge him that time and space, and I genuinely enjoy getting away for a few solitary hours with camera in hand, walking new trails, seeing things from another perspective, and breathing the sea air. It reminds me of my Granny, and the many visits together to the seashore, or along the marshy estuaries of the Chesapeake Bay. I miss her greatly, and most of all when I am “at the shore”. Any shore. That was “us” – long car drives filled with conversation, and sunny hours “at the shore”. Fuck I do miss that woman. Often. I think maybe she would be proud of how far I have come.
I feel for the loved ones of Queen Elizabeth. They didn’t just lose a monarch – they lost their mother, grandmother, great-grandmother… they lost someone truly dear to them. That is painful stuff.
Traffic on the way home.
Yesterday afternoon I returned home, but my partner wasn’t finished with the work he was doing, and my excited-just-got-that-job-offer energy was definitely a distraction. After some testy unsatisfying exchanges that were well-intended and heartfelt, but painful, I suggested that I return to the coast today, and he was totally down for that. So… I did. Later, he indicated (text messaging for the win!) that he would need more time, really. So… I got a room on the coast for the night and went back to walking the beaches, stalking the birds with my camera, and feeling the sea breezes muss my hair. Frankly, I left the house this morning prepared for the potential usefulness in making a night of it, and I made a point to tuck the needed medications into my gear, and made a point of having alllll the batteries and devices charged up, and even took my laptop along with me (figuring that might be handy on an overnight). I even remembered spare socks and underwear. 😀 I didn’t go as far as packing an overnight bag, though now I wonder why. LOL
Oh… Yes, I got an excellent job offer from a company I’m eager to work for, on a team that looks like a great fit for me. I’m excited about it. It’s just not really the most important thing today. Honestly, neither is the death of a distant monarch (however badass she was, and omg she totally was a major badass). Today is breezy, relaxed, and sunny, and I am enjoying everything about that. Doing so while also being 100% certain I am not distracting my partner while he is working? Extra good. It’s enough. More than enough. It’s quite choice, and I am enjoying the day.
Where will I be in 2083? In my grave? Forgotten? Still alive, and so old that no one around me remembers that I was once a badass? My legacy forgotten? Alive and lively, loved and cared-for, with the kind of vast historical perspective that results in day-time news shows wanting to interview me about what I personally witnessed of history? Will my Traveling Partner and I continue to travel life’s journey together through all those decades ahead? Will we be little old people slowly walking the neighborhood holding hands and talking softly, laughing loudly? The future is not written, and this journey has no map…
The journey is the destination.
My thoughts come and go like the gulls beyond the balcony rail. They appear, they pass by, leaving only the recollection of a moment. I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’s a lovely moment for contemplation.
One of the things my partner and I were discussing last night was my anxiety. For sure my PTSD and my chronic anxiety issues are pretty well-managed compared to where I was 10 years ago…but… I still struggle more than I’d like to, and it affects my quality of life – and his. I guess it’s worth doing something about that. I feel a bit stalled and struggle with the learned helplessness that inevitably results from dealing with a chronic condition for a long time. I already know, though, that there are steps to take and things to do. It’s time to step through those, and try some things differently. It was one productive outcome of our conversation; a sense of focus and purpose, and an idea of direction. That’s not nothing – it’s a place to start.
I’m sipping my coffee. My face is wet with the tears that just keep coming. The phone call this morning was brief. Heartfelt. Tender. My sister’s resolve and her will to hold her feelings in check impress me, even as I continue to weep. We kept the call brief; no doubt she has other calls she wants to make. Neither of us like crying “out loud” in a public way, and seeing as we’re so “strong”, we manage not to cry on the phone. Much. The call ends, the tears start.
I consider not writing, but… grief isn’t an everyday experience. I already feel… shattered. This, in spite of knowing it was imminent, in spite of being “well-prepared”, in spite of speaking gently and explicitly with my Mother, herself, about this moment, frankly, compassionately, honestly… in spite of spending yesterday well-supported by a loving and concerned partner… nonetheless; I am crying. Routines are something I can fall back on to hold life together, until… something.
“This, too, shall pass.” (I know, I know – I fucking know that, now knock that shit off, while I shed these honest tears for the passing of a complex woman, who gave me life. I’ll be okay, just not… right now, exactly.)
…Anyway. No idea how this amount of grief may affect my writing. I’m glad you are here. I hope you are well. Maybe I write a lot more than usual over the next several days? Maybe I find myself unable to lift my hands to type words in row at all. I don’t even know. I guess we’ll find out together, eh?
It’ll be okay. I reflexively offer myself all the comforting platitudes I can find. “We are mortal creatures.” (That’s a very real observation, at the moment. Painfully real. It offers no particular comfort. Perhaps it will later…?) It’s not really helpful, and I let it go.
…I don’t really know what else to do. So… I begin again.
Evening Light 