Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Good Stuff

When I met Jon, I swear the earth stopped moving for a moment.  I'm not trying to be completely sappy and romantic.  That's actually not how I mean it at all.  I don't want to say it was love at first sight.  The only way I can describe it is like getting hit in the face.  My world stopped for a split second, and though I could not put my finger on it at the time, it was like hearing a voice in my head say, 'He's going to be important.  This moment  is important . . .  life-changing."  I'm not sure if that makes sense.  I had experienced moments like that to a much lesser degree a few times before that.  

I was watching Forest Gump the other night while Danny and I were both sick, and at the end, Forest talks about how some people believe in destiny and others say we're just floating around 'accidental-like' on the breeze... and how he believes it's a little of both.  I have to agree.  The only way I can really explain it is that the moment I met Jonathan (and the somewhat similar moments I'd experienced previously) was a "destiny" moments.  Moments like that are rare and they serve almost as a reminder -- as if to tell us (in case we were wondering) some things are NOT coincidences . . . the choices we make are life-altering, and this one right here, well, it's is a BIG one.  You're gonna remember this one. And maybe, just maybe, there is something bigger than us guiding us along, at least for the important decisions. 

I believe without a shadow of a doubt, that I was meant to love Jon.  That I was meant to enter his life at that EXACT time I did.  And though it pains me to say, perhaps, I was meant to lose him.  I'm not sure why I was part of that plan, but as painful of a journey as it's been, I feel nothing but blessed.  Someone or something chose me to love him, when he needed to be loved the most.  And yes, my loss is profound, but I share it with the hundreds of other people who miss him every day . . . and we share the common despair over what he could have done with more time, as well as the pride in all he accomplished in the time he had.  I feel lucky to have been one of the lucky ones who got to know him and be a part of his life.  The people who knew him, grew up with him, loved him . . . they will always hold a special place in my heart.  More than anything, I know how lucky I was that he chose me to love back.  

Right after he died, EVERYthing was a sign.  I like to think that at least some of the little things I noticed or small coincidences were in part his doing . . . his way of reminding me that he was thinking of me.  But, now it takes a hell of a lot to get me see it as a sign.  Maybe it's because I've experienced REAL, life-changing, world stop spinning moments.  I think when you know, you know.  And there will be big and small reassurances that you're on the right path.  

Take the moment I saw Danny for the first time, for instance.  It felt like my brain emptied of all it's thoughts, except that I wanted to know him. And not just because I thought he was attractive.  It's hard to articulate, but it was so much deeper than that.  There was that "he's important!!" sign flashing in my head.  And little did I know just how important he would turn out to be . . . or how wonderful.  

And now, every important future moment that I see in my head, has him in it.  I know without question, that I'm where I'm supposed to be and I'm loving who I'm supposed to love.  The hard part for me is letting go of the irrational thoughts in my mind that say, what if I lose him, too? At least I know I'm being crazy.  It's just that Jon and I made plans that never happened.  Yes, Jon had cancer.  Yes, there was a constant, realistic threat to all of our plans . . . Unfortunately, the possibility of losing him was always a rational thought.  But I'm still scared.  Mainly because I think a person's heart can only take so much.  I am afraid to dream sometimes.  But little by little, as pieces fall together, I can breathe a little easier and recognize how silly I'm being.  I don't know if I'll ever let my guard down completely though.

I've given this man my heart . . . and he holds it, ever so gently, knowing how fragile it is.  Jon and I used to say, "Only good stuff from now on." I hear that in my head sometimes when I'm sitting next to Danny on the couch and I look over and can't help but smile.  I know Jon would be happy about all the "good stuff" in my life . . . and all the beautiful, sparkling moments yet to come. 

" The heart is made of the only substance in the universe that gets stronger after it has been broken."

Sunday, February 3, 2013

To you, Love, me

Dear Jon,

At around 1 am tonight, I know I will wake up.  I don't want to, but I know I will.  My heart and my subconcious mind will force me to.  They will force me to remember that exactly 1 year ago, I heard your very last words: "I love you more than life itself."  And too soon after that, I heard your very last heart beat.

I obviously think the year anniversary deserves a blog post, but I couldn't stand the thought of sitting here, saying how difficult it is, and explaining my saddness to nameless viewers.  They've read it all before.  It's hard to explain but venting to them isn't what I really need.  Because it's about you.  It's about losing you, losing a huge part of me, losing the life I thought I'd have.  And as heartwarming as people's sympathies are, they are not what I need.

What I need is your voice, your words.  I want to know what you think, where you are, what you're doing.  I want to sit and talk shit about everyone around us like we always did.  I want you to finish my sentences, agree with me that it sucks that you're not able to be with me anymore, and then I need you to tell me it's going to be ok. I need you to flash me one of those million dollar, twinkly blue-eyed smiles, squeeze my hand, tell me you like my "love" tattoo that I got in your handwriting, and that you'll always be with me.

I miss my best friend.  It's bizarre, but I guess I never really let the finality of it all truly sink in.  I obviously recognize that you died, that we can't be together.  I just thought I'd somehow still be able to talk to you.  It sounds ridiculous, I guess.  But to think that the world will never see your face again or hear your think that I will never be able to hug you... just all seems so final.  Even 365 days later, it makes no sense.  So I'm writing you this letter.  And I do know that you'll find a way to respond... somehow, some way.

Is it vain of me to think you know what's going on in my life? I like to think you watch over me, that you sort of guide me, and probably also critique a lot of my moves. I also partially blame you for pointing me in some wrong directions shortly after you left.  Or maybe just not doing anything other-worldy to intervene.  I know you just were trying to help me feel better.  But where I am now, I love.  And I know you brought me here.  I also know you have a bunch of people to look after, so thanks. :)

Is it weird for me to talk to you about Danny? I know you sent him to me.  You knew he would love me, and more importantly, that I would love him more deeply than I ever imagined I could love someone.  I know you must be sad that you and I didn't get to have the life we wanted, but I imagine you have complete clarity now...that it somehow makes sense to you. There was a time I was so convinced I'd never be happy again, and Danny has changed that entirely.

It's hard to believe a year ago today I was saying goodbye to you.  This year has changed me so much.  I feel like there's so much to tell you.

You know what makes me laugh sometimes? I hear your silly voices in my head.  Or I crack up at a the 1877 Cars-4-KIDS radio commercial.  Bc we both freakin' hated it.  I listen to "Better" and all I can picture is you playing it on your keyboard in your room...and me video taping it...and you getting mad...and making me delete it.  I wish I still had it now.

For the most part, I have a hard time watching videos of the two of us.  It forces my heart to feel too remember what's been lost. I am one big barrell of defense mechanisms.  I can sit here and write about the bad memories and even talk about them, but I have severed the connection that tells me all of this stuff actually happened to me.  The worst part is my brain has a hard time letting me remember good stuff, too.  There's too much emotion, too many memories.  It's like it only allows me to remember so much before my attention span makes me focus on something else.  Yeah, yeah I're a big believer in therapists... but you know how you just get tired sometimes? Tired of making yourself talk and remember?

I started school this week.  It was probably the hardest thing I've had to do in a long time.  Besides my usual nerd-anxiety, it was just hard.  Being there, remembering last year and the last time I ws there, was just really really hard.  I know you wanted me to finish school.  I like to think you're proud of me.

I want you to know I never forget you.  You are on my mind so much, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of you.  I think we both were really lucky to have had the time we had together.  That doesn't mean I'm not pissed as hell that your time was cut short.  If anyone could have changed the world, it was you.

When I think of exactly 1 year ago, the main thing I remember about you dying, is that all I kept saying over and over in my head was that I needed to make sure you weren't afraid.  And also asking God, if he was listening in those moments, to please not make it drag out too long.  Because you at least deserved a peaceful exit...and for the selfish reason that I didn't think I could handle much more.  I wish you could tell me I did a good job...that I made you feel safe and loved and as fearless as you could have been in those moments.

I will never truly get over you..  I will always talk about you.  I will always carry you with me.  You will forever be the bravest person I've ever known.  You will always be the person who impacted my life the most.  You will always be with me.  I promise to always make up silly songs.  I promise to never stop laughing at our inside jokes.  I promise to try to use correct grammar.   I promise to try to be the person you saw in me. I promise to try and like the Super Bowl. I promise to love the way you taught me to...intensely... unconditionally...and live the way you showed me...without fear..

I will always love you.

Till the year 4001.