Fire and Rain

This post is a week late. Last week marked the one year anniversary of your death. It's amazing how much can change in a year. I remember, distinctly, Halloween of last year. It had been a week since your death but the arrangements for the memorial service hadn't been finalized. My ex wanted to go away with his family for the weekend but I was hesitant to make plans... What if they announced the service with short notice and I was stuck 300 miles away? I couldn't believe he couldn't understand that.

I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

When it finally came time for your service a couple weeks later I was surprised and then again not terribly surprised when my ex asked me one day, "I don't have to go with you, do I?" Is this the man who promised to love me for better and for worse? For the rest of my life? And yet supporting me through your death was somehow... a chore? Of course you know how much I hate conflict. I answered, "no baby. Of course not. You wouldn't know anyone anyway." But inside I was furious.

I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

Sitting at your service, surrounded by all the people who knew me as a kid, my childhood friends, their parents, their children, my old teachers, elders from our church, kids I used to baby-sit I felt... uncomfortable. I no longer belonged to this world, your world. By my own choice for sure but still it felt weird to be surrounded by so many people who used to know me so well and who now were little more than strangers. I think you would have been sad to see the me I had become. You would have been disappointed in me I think. Disappointed at the mess I had made of my life, the implosion of my marriage that was coming closer and closer like a run-away train, my dis-satisfaction with my life, my job, myself. I'm almost glad you never knew me like that. Because seeing how I looked in my old friends eyes? That was the wake-up call I had been waiting for. Who had I become?

I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

I think you'd be proud of me now. Maybe you wouldn't agree with the choices I've made (I know divorce isn't supposed to be an option - trust me I didn't chose it lightly) but I think you would be proud of me for taking my life back, for growing stronger, for learning to love myself again. I'm happier now. I even laugh, genuinely laugh, often now. I'm happy. Generally happy for no reason other than that the sun is shining and the skies are blue and life is good. It's not perfect, but it is good.

I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

You know? I always thought I had plenty of time to mend the rift between us. Plenty of time to work up the courage to seek you out. I figured we would trade awkward pleasantries at first, maybe apologize a little, even maybe yell and cry and get angry and try to explain. But I always thought we'd work through it. We were both so young then, I actually can't wrap my head around the fact that I'm older now than you ever were when we were friends. You always made adulthood seem so... effortless. I think I might have told you that I hated struggling for years thinking I should have everything figured out by now because you were the example I was looking up to. Did you really have it all figured out? Or were you just pretending like the rest of us?

I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

I'm sorry I'll never get that chance. I'm sorry that we'll never be reconciled and call each other friend again. I'm sure if you could read this you'd say something like, "we'll be reconciled in heaven." But you and I both know my relationship with religion is on shaky round at best these days. I just hope you knew that I always loved you. Even when we argued and I swore I hated you, I hope you know that I didn't. I was just hurt. And mad. But I always loved you and the role you played in forming me in to the woman I became. A woman I hope you would have been proud of now. I know you always loved me. I never doubted it even once.

I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought that I'd see you again.

Them vs. You

Oh the joys of dating...

First there was the guy who seemed literally too good to be true. We worked in the same industry and could trade horror stories and complaints for hours. He also went to culinary school and LOVED to cook. He loved reggae music, and not just the popular main-stream stuff, but the more obscure small label stuff too. He was charming, flattering and seemed to genuinely enjoy spending time with me. Oh and the kissing was wonderful. But. Turned out he had a girlfriend. Break, or no break, that's not the kind of girl I am.

Then there was the good friend turned friend with benefits. We had (have?) an amazing time together. Laughing and drinking and talking until the wee hours on multiple occasions. Since we were both single it seemed only natural that we'd test out the chemistry waters so to speak. It was... ok. But ultimately I decided I wasn't really cut out to be someone's late night booty call. I also realized that while it was fun to party with my buddy, that's all we ever did. Party. And that's a lifestyle that I don't necessarily want in the long term, you know?

Next came the out of the comfort zone guy. He really liked me, pursued me for MONTHS and I never really gave him a second thought. Until one night we were out at happy hour(s) after work and it ended up being just me and him basically alone at one end of our table. Turns out he had recently gone through a divorce also and this guy was FUNNY. Like, I haven't laughed that hard with someone in years, funny. At the end of the night when he asked to kiss me I said yes... just to see right? Wow. I was completely unprepared for how much chemistry there would be. But. This guy was obsessed with money. How much money he had. How much money he made. To the point where he would pull up his investment portfolios on his phone to show me the balances. Ugh. Just... no.

Then there was a guy I met over the summer. We hit it off right away.. lots in common, great chemistry, lots of laughs. I felt comfortable with this guy right away. He was perfect for what I thought I needed at the time - funny, friendly, and CLEARLY in to me in a big way. But. (The inevitable "but"...) He was WAY more serious than I was prepared for. He chews with his mouth open and occasionally talks in a baby voice and makes this annoying chewing, teeth chomping sound in his sleep. But really it was the too serious, too soon that got me.

Which leads me to believe that at the end of the day, while there may be bad or annoying things about all of these otherwise perfectly nice guys, that the main problem they all share is that THEY... are not YOU.