I Really Don't Know
Bedtime is a non-negotiable for me. Usually. I have to be up at 2AM which is in roughly six hours and I should already be in bed. If not asleep, reading while I wait for sleep to come. And yet, tonight, of all nights, I'm not. I'm writing. And truth be told, I haven't felt much like writing lately. So maybe that's why I decided to give into the words tonight. The truth is I really don't know.
I just got home from a memorial service. A friend died unexpectedly last Saturday morning while showing off his brand new kick ass lawn mower. He had a heart attack and, despite the valiant attempts of his neighbors to resuscitate him, Mark died right there in his driveway. Arguably there are worse ways to go. He was surrounded by people who cared about him and he was mere inches from the lawn mower he adored. That would be the equivalent of me going while writing or just after finishing a spin class.
So, I don't exactly know what I'm doing tonight. Drowning my sorrows with words rather than a pint of Ben & Jerry's before falling into a fitful sleep? Writing some kind of over-done cautionary tale about saying what you need to say and not letting moments slip by amid the hum-drum chaos of our daily lives? Or maybe both? Like I said above, I don't really know.
When the words come, they come. There's no promise of perfection or that they'll even make a sense. I feel this is where we are. I'm writing with little idea where it's all going to go....but somehow knowing that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing in this moment. No, I'm not terminally ill nor am I planning to drop dead anytime soon. I'm not even sad. Not really. Mark got a good send off. A packed hall and lots of fun stories. It was more of celebration so I didn't cry, not even one tear when Mark's wife told us all to remember to say "I love you" in those small moments because you just never know.
And yet on my way home I called two friends, something I seldom do. Car rides are for listening to music and decompressing. It's alone time, and we all know I can never, ever, ever get enough of that. Tonight, though, I made the exception. I'm not sure why I did. I didn't speak to either long, nor did I divulge any secrets or make any grand pronouncements. I had absolutely no reason to call either. Checking on one of my outdoor cats seemed a good excuse for one; the other? I got nothing. I fumbled and stumbled around until we hung up after discussing work bullshit for maybe three ugly minutes.
I still have no idea why I picked up the phone and speed dialed either. Did I want to hear their voices? Did I need a friend? To get reassurance? To....fuck, I really don't know. All I know if that I did it and I assume it had something to do with attending a memorial service for friend who died suddenly.
In all seriousness, if you weren't one of the people I chose to call, don't get weird. Why didn't Stacee call me? I'm her this-that-or the other thing? Moreover, if you were one of the people I chose to call, don't get weird. Let's no one get weird. I chose who I chose and I'm going to go with that. Sometimes it's ok not to know an answer (because sometimes answers lead to more questions....).
Nonetheless, knowing it's overdone, overstated, over-everything'd, I'm still going to say it. The people we care about should know we care about them. That's it. I'm horrendous at it. I'm always too busy, too into myself, too [fill in the blank] and I know I should do better. On a much smaller scale, I'm moving - leaving Austin - in sixty-two days. I've lived here almost a decade and I've made some life-changing, life-affirming connections. That I'm about to lose. You all know what I'm saying, it's not like anyone is dying. I'm not losing them forever, but I am losing them.
And I have to wonder...do they know? Do they know what they mean to me? Have I dropped enough hints? Or do I have to say the words, the actual words? I'm not good at this stuff. I'm not. Feelings. I never quite know what to do with them. Not these days. I think I used to be better. At least for awhile I was. Now, though...
I call friends to talk and say....what? Wha'cha doin'? Lame. What I should have said was "Hey, I'm calling because I just came from a memorial service and I wanted to say thank you. For what? For being in my life. For answering tonight. For being who you are to me. That's it. Just thank you."
Maybe next time. Or maybe they will read this and know.
For those of you who I didn't call, thank you. For being in my life. For being who you are to me. Just thank you.
There I said the actual words. It wasn't that hard. Not really.
I just got home from a memorial service. A friend died unexpectedly last Saturday morning while showing off his brand new kick ass lawn mower. He had a heart attack and, despite the valiant attempts of his neighbors to resuscitate him, Mark died right there in his driveway. Arguably there are worse ways to go. He was surrounded by people who cared about him and he was mere inches from the lawn mower he adored. That would be the equivalent of me going while writing or just after finishing a spin class.
So, I don't exactly know what I'm doing tonight. Drowning my sorrows with words rather than a pint of Ben & Jerry's before falling into a fitful sleep? Writing some kind of over-done cautionary tale about saying what you need to say and not letting moments slip by amid the hum-drum chaos of our daily lives? Or maybe both? Like I said above, I don't really know.
When the words come, they come. There's no promise of perfection or that they'll even make a sense. I feel this is where we are. I'm writing with little idea where it's all going to go....but somehow knowing that I'm doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing in this moment. No, I'm not terminally ill nor am I planning to drop dead anytime soon. I'm not even sad. Not really. Mark got a good send off. A packed hall and lots of fun stories. It was more of celebration so I didn't cry, not even one tear when Mark's wife told us all to remember to say "I love you" in those small moments because you just never know.
And yet on my way home I called two friends, something I seldom do. Car rides are for listening to music and decompressing. It's alone time, and we all know I can never, ever, ever get enough of that. Tonight, though, I made the exception. I'm not sure why I did. I didn't speak to either long, nor did I divulge any secrets or make any grand pronouncements. I had absolutely no reason to call either. Checking on one of my outdoor cats seemed a good excuse for one; the other? I got nothing. I fumbled and stumbled around until we hung up after discussing work bullshit for maybe three ugly minutes.
I still have no idea why I picked up the phone and speed dialed either. Did I want to hear their voices? Did I need a friend? To get reassurance? To....fuck, I really don't know. All I know if that I did it and I assume it had something to do with attending a memorial service for friend who died suddenly.
In all seriousness, if you weren't one of the people I chose to call, don't get weird. Why didn't Stacee call me? I'm her this-that-or the other thing? Moreover, if you were one of the people I chose to call, don't get weird. Let's no one get weird. I chose who I chose and I'm going to go with that. Sometimes it's ok not to know an answer (because sometimes answers lead to more questions....).
Nonetheless, knowing it's overdone, overstated, over-everything'd, I'm still going to say it. The people we care about should know we care about them. That's it. I'm horrendous at it. I'm always too busy, too into myself, too [fill in the blank] and I know I should do better. On a much smaller scale, I'm moving - leaving Austin - in sixty-two days. I've lived here almost a decade and I've made some life-changing, life-affirming connections. That I'm about to lose. You all know what I'm saying, it's not like anyone is dying. I'm not losing them forever, but I am losing them.
And I have to wonder...do they know? Do they know what they mean to me? Have I dropped enough hints? Or do I have to say the words, the actual words? I'm not good at this stuff. I'm not. Feelings. I never quite know what to do with them. Not these days. I think I used to be better. At least for awhile I was. Now, though...
I call friends to talk and say....what? Wha'cha doin'? Lame. What I should have said was "Hey, I'm calling because I just came from a memorial service and I wanted to say thank you. For what? For being in my life. For answering tonight. For being who you are to me. That's it. Just thank you."
Maybe next time. Or maybe they will read this and know.
For those of you who I didn't call, thank you. For being in my life. For being who you are to me. Just thank you.
There I said the actual words. It wasn't that hard. Not really.
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