Death ii

And so we come one step closer

And I am unsure

I stepped away for a day and said I'll see you

He said I hope so

My fingers gentle on his hand

A grip firm even as his breath leaches out

The oxygen machine thrums and whooshes

Thumps at regulat intervals

My thumb softly moving on his fingers

A few hairs the skin pale and dry

Comforting or being comforted I could not tell

I'll see you I said

I stepped downstairs my mouth twisted in a curl

The sudden onslaught of tears in the car

And I didn't have a tissue at hand 

The little things

Yet I was confident of my return

In time for one more goodbye

One more look

Which I hope he understands to mean that I will be there

I will be there for them after he is gone

I will be there 

I will not forget his life touching mine

Too briefly

His soul his smile his joy

I will be a constant

I will be here

But now I am on my way

And there may not be another goodbye

That may be all it was

So assuredly I said I'll see you

And now I am unsure

Death

Death is the solace of the brave

And the haven of the kind

The ones it forsakes

Are the ones left behind

I don't believe in the one.

I don't.

And yet, here I am, 2 1/2 years into a relationship, wondering where I, he, we are going. If I lived in a vacuum, I probably wouldn't be this anxious.

But I don't.

It's wedding season on Facebook. Smiling faces that I only partly recognize, some not at all anymore, accost me with every log in. White finery, bundles of flowers, oh look, their signature cocktail was in a mason jar. Am I some sort of curmudgeon, scowling at the computer screen? 

I don't think so.

Quite the opposite, actually. I'm just a romantic with a bad sense of visioning. Because, deep down, I want it all - the white finery, bundles of flowers, quirky accent-piece. And I'm squee-elated, ecstatic, enthusiastic, when dear ones, like our M and D, decide to commit to each other. I know just how much they care for each other, how much they look forward to seeing each other at the end of the day, how they challenge each other and share inside jokes. I'm blessed to know them and even more honored that they asked me to share their day with them. But when it comes to me, my life, and my choices -

I don't know how to decide.

Cloudy with a chance of tears

Inertia is paralyzing. I've been jobless for 9 months now, and at this point every time I open the browser I wonder if it's even worth looking for something. Every time I open Word to start a cover letter my fingers hover over the keys, unable to move, my heart constricting at the sight of the blank white page in front of me. I pore over wedding boards and click through endless photos of smiling brides and the latest cutest wedding favors. I bake a new batch of cookies. The apartment has never been cleaner. I joke about becoming a housewife, but my own smiles aren't real. I cancel drinks and lunches and phone dates with friends because I don't have an answer to the ever present "what's new." Impossible to keep a smile in my voice, even more so to actually tell the truth. I agonize for hours over a single "networking" email. I hesitate five hundred times before clicking send. And along comes an opportunity. And slips away. And here I am baking another batch of cookies. I wonder if I should even eat them - full of frustration and lack of motivation and cringing despair - would it be akin to poisoning myself? 

Starting up again...

Grad school, with all of the dense readings, the lectures on little known subjects, the lunches with friends sharing unbelievable stories, has been an enlightening experience. Yet, all the above mentioned factors aside, the most enlightening aspect has been the interaction with my male peers.

My undergrad experience was far from the see a cute guy in the halls, smile, know you will probably run into him later at whatever solo cup rager was going on that weekend, look as cute as possible on that night, and then who knows what. In my case, if I saw a cute guy in the halls, chances were I would probably never see him again. Now, here I am in a full on campus environment, where, after one semester, I know everyone's face if not their name. It's both comforting and disquieting.

Our Dean said in his welcome speech that some of us, undoubtedly, will get married to each other. How could that possibly be the case? It already feels incestuous to view each other romantically - and oh how people would talk. And yet that doesn't stop people, attached or otherwise, from making eyes and overtures...

Everything is possible

Do you know what is impossible?

It is impossible to hug someone across an ocean.

Do you know what is impossible?

It is impossible to stop another's tears when your own won't cease.

Do you know what is impossible?

It is impossible to say the right thing when you already know your words are helpless.

Do you know what is impossible?

It is impossible to imagine someone else's grief when you are mired in your own.

Do you know what is impossible?

It is impossible to grieve for one without re-living the grieving you have done over others.

Do you know what is impossible?

It is impossible to hold someone's hand, to hold them close, to look them in the eye from across an ocean.

Do you know what is impossible?

It is impossible not to feel helpless, completely and utterly helpless, in the face of death.

Do you know what is impossible?

To understand that someone is irrevocably gone. That is impossible.

This is So Real

The second meeting of the family. The faces were familiar this time, the hugs even warmer, the kisses even closer.

Hey Blondie!
This is TC's... wife? Fiance? Just kidding. Girlfriend... for now.
That's why we all say, you're a keeper!
TC, bring her by before you go to the airport tomorrow, okay?
Lauren, my grandmother is looking for you.

And the kicker. We were at dinner. He got a text. His mother.
"I brought grandma's ring to give to you. You can have the diamonds re-set and give it to Lauren."

He showed it to me. "Look what my mom said." He shook his head, a little smile. I asked what he replied. "I told her to keep it until I'm ready." Very logical. As always. We didn't speak of it again.

I want to marry him. We talk realistically about it all the time. But that tiny ring, that little band of gold with some sparklers resting in it, made it so real. A tangible thing. Proof of a never ending commitment. It made my stomach tighten up and a silence settle over the table. It doesn't scare him... it scares me.

He drove me to the airport the next day, and I cried a little for the end of our blissful vacation and a little for how much I'd miss him while I was home and he was here.

A thoughtful silence filled the car, and then he asked, "What do I do with the diamonds? Have them re-set?" For one brief second I let myself picture it happening, a random Tuesday while I made tacos in sweatpants and an old tank top, and he danced around to Michael Jackson behind me. He'd say, "Hey, Lauren?" I'd turn around and he'd be there, on his knee, with the sparklers. And I'd be happy. I'd be so, so happy.

The ring. It means fear and happiness all in one. And it just got a little more real.