Tuesday, October 31, 2006
And With The Snow
It's snowing on Halloween and Christmas oranges are on sale. The fireplace is becoming my constant companion and without planning for it, a feeling of nostalgia - followed by saddness - sits heavily on my chest.
Yesterday, Lee found out that a friend's husband has died suddenly, with no warning. He was maybe 39 years old. We are hearing now that it was a brain aneursym. He wasn't feeling well, he laid down for a rest and never woke up. They just had a baby a year ago and now he is gone. To compound this awful news, the friend, the wife, suffers from MS and is spiraling downwards in light of this shock. I don't know this woman and yet I ache for the lonliness that will be hers to contend with when, after the funeral, everyone gets busy again and return to their own lives.
I walk outside and breath in this crisp cold and scrap my windows and think about her loss. A piece of my hair whips across my face and I can distinctly smell my coconut shampoo and I think about my loss. I start my car and let it warm up and let myself have a small cry. I can't believe that I am alone. I can't believe that I was left. I can't believe that Christmas is coming and there will be no one who cherishes my heart to wake up with and unwrap gifts. Then I think about this woman and her one year old little girl and how hard this Christmas will be on them and I can't help but hate how unfair it all seems sometimes.
Rehearsals help when I get sad like this. Or working on my website. Or having Leanne around to talk with. Like a man, I keep myself distracted, but all I have to do is get a lovely email from you know who telling me how happy he is that I am out on my own exploring the world and I am brought back to this: I am a little bit of something to a lot of people, but the world to no one in particular. HTSNBN does not love me. I am alone. I wait and I wait and I am trying to be patient. I am trying.
And with the snow comes this...an island of a girl, standing alone in a swirl of white, face caked with icicle tears...
praying for a miracle.
Yesterday, Lee found out that a friend's husband has died suddenly, with no warning. He was maybe 39 years old. We are hearing now that it was a brain aneursym. He wasn't feeling well, he laid down for a rest and never woke up. They just had a baby a year ago and now he is gone. To compound this awful news, the friend, the wife, suffers from MS and is spiraling downwards in light of this shock. I don't know this woman and yet I ache for the lonliness that will be hers to contend with when, after the funeral, everyone gets busy again and return to their own lives.
I walk outside and breath in this crisp cold and scrap my windows and think about her loss. A piece of my hair whips across my face and I can distinctly smell my coconut shampoo and I think about my loss. I start my car and let it warm up and let myself have a small cry. I can't believe that I am alone. I can't believe that I was left. I can't believe that Christmas is coming and there will be no one who cherishes my heart to wake up with and unwrap gifts. Then I think about this woman and her one year old little girl and how hard this Christmas will be on them and I can't help but hate how unfair it all seems sometimes.
Rehearsals help when I get sad like this. Or working on my website. Or having Leanne around to talk with. Like a man, I keep myself distracted, but all I have to do is get a lovely email from you know who telling me how happy he is that I am out on my own exploring the world and I am brought back to this: I am a little bit of something to a lot of people, but the world to no one in particular. HTSNBN does not love me. I am alone. I wait and I wait and I am trying to be patient. I am trying.
And with the snow comes this...an island of a girl, standing alone in a swirl of white, face caked with icicle tears...
praying for a miracle.
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