Yesterday I think I had a flirtatious exchange with a man. It's all very strange, mostly because it didn't feel all together very strange. It felt....fun. Nice. Kind of exciting, even. The story goes, my good friend works at a nice bar downtown and knows one of the bartenders there pretty well. He's a bit older than me and just got out of a very long term relationship because the girl he was with doesn't want what he wants, being marriage and children. (this is all second hand intel on him from said friend of mine). Just as I was trying to work through the fact that in order to have those things, marriage and children, of my own, I would have to date again: my girl tells me "I want you to meet this dude I work with." Holy jesus, shit just got REAL. A few weeks ago I went into her bar and met this dude, he was our server. He was pleasant and I was awkward and I was fairly sure that I had made no impression on him whatsoever, but I did notice something. I was attracted to him. Hella weird, because though for the last year i pretty much had blinders on, I could still recognize an attractive person, I just didn't care about it one way or the other. This time, and I still don't know how, but I kinda cared. I cared about what he thought of me. I attributed this mostly to the fact that my girl had talked to him about me and I knew that, so I wanted to be sure I was maing a good impression, even though I felt quite certain I had made no impression at all. Well, I guess I was wrong about that.
I went into that restaurant yesterday to meet some friends and I was the first to arrive. I was mildly embarrassed to show up to a bar (where i won't drink) alone, in front of the first man I thought was cute. He came to my table and showed me the happy hour menu, gave me a minute to look it over. He came back around and I asked him to make me a "mocktail" (non-alcoholic cocktail) and he said, "oh sure thing, just like last time," smiled, and walked back behind the bar. In my head? Holy shit, he remembers me. Weird. He came back with my drink and introduced himself, and we chatted for a moment about our time spent for the holidays. We agreed we were glad they were over with. Stressful. My friends came in and he went back behind the bar. After a while, my friends and I moved from the table to the bar so we could better see monday night football, and I chatted with him off and on throughout the night. The whole time it felt like I should feel weird about it but I just really didn't. It was oddly comfortable and I was really having fun. He is super nice and likes the niners, so we got along well. I have been thinking about it a lot because when I got home last night and looked at the picture of myself and KC on my nightstand i got an overwhelming sense of guilt. Like a cheating feeling though I know that isn't the case here. One of my girlfriends had made a very good point to me: I have spent the last year fine tuning my ability to feel my feelings and own them, happy sad good or bad. So why should this be different? Why should I question or deny these feelings now? Why can't new feelings coexist with grief, they will have to if I ever plan to date because the grief doesn't go away. And isn't this part of the plan? It's scary because it's a first for a lot of feelings but it is exciting too. If I am going to live true to the mantra "Onward" that I have adopted, I have to let myself be open to these feelings, including the fear. It's time to quit speaking of Onward, and live it. So here we go, Happy New Year!
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
One whole year later
I went to Hawaii for a week two days after KC's funeral. His cousin, my good friend, lives out there and she took me back to get away for a little bit. I don't remember very much of that trip, it was a bit of a haze. What I remember most clearly is sitting on her front yard looking out at the ocean on the day before I came home. I was overwhelmed with how beautiful it was, but still so angry that this beautiful ocean would take away it's biggest fan. I was staring out at it for at least two hours, just crying and looking at it. I looked down, then looked up and out to my left and spoke my first words out loud to KC, "Baby, I'm so sorry, and-" just as I started to talk to KC I saw a humpback whale in the water, blew out a big breath and its beautiful fluke on display for what seemed like just me. I was breathless. I don't know that I believe in "signs," but if they are out there, I know that was one of them.
Christmas last year is barely a memory. I kind of remember being at my Aunt and Uncle's house in San Francisco, but don't remember coming or going or even what happened while we were there. It was just another day, sans True Love.
I dreaded Valentine's Day. I thought that would be the day that would ruin me. Until being with KC, I never thought much of the day because I had never been in love. My Valentine's Days with KC were pure magic. The first one, I was working at outback and KC made a HUGE banner with a road sign in yellow; "Baby, Be on Board with me: I Love You!" He brought it into my work with roses and he was all dressed up. He even "hired" our friend Trevor to help him hold up the banner. It was unbelievably darling, and his face was so cute, a perfect amalgamation of love, pride, and a little bit of embarrassment. I still have the banner. Last year i expected to have a horrible day, the kind of day that you can't escape the pain and you think you will never come out of it, but somehow I felt hopeful. I don't know how, or why. But it just didn't sting the way I thought it would. Just another day.
KC's birthday was tough. Mid- April was tough. I went to a bar and ordered a shot of tequila and a Sam Adams. It's what KC would have ordered up for his birthday if he had been there. I stared at the drinks for a long time, tears in my eyes. The man sitting next to me said something like "man, musta been a rough day!" I lost it. just started crying like crazy. He must have been mortified but I didn't care. I apologized, for whatever reason, and told him what I was doing alone in a bar crying and looking at beverages. He was kind and sympathetic. I took a few sips of the tequila, paid for the drinks. I left the waitress a big tip, touched the Sam's bottle and whispered, "Happy birthday, True," and left.
May 3rd was our Anniversary. I invited a few close friends, my sister and brother-in-law to come to Outback to have dinner with me. It was a joyous event, good food and some of my closest people. Lots of memories shared and laughter. It was much better than staying home alone and crying. It was just right.
In June, I visited Santa Barbara for the first time since moving back from there. I drove down there alone, it was not an easy drive. Coming into the city was incredibly tough. Seeing that ocean, I hadn't seen the ocean since Hawaii and it was no easier then. I cried so hard I had to pull over until I could see again. Driving up to KC's dad's house was awful: I had driven up to that house millions of times, seeing KC's truck in the driveway, but seeing it this time was just another reminder that he wasn't there. I walked up and hugged Dave and we cried together. There is so much sadness in that house, where there was once so much love. It continues to break my heart. KC's father has now lost his wife and his son. It just isn't fair.
In July I returned to Santa Barbara with the intentions to spread KC's ashes at the Channel Islands, knowing that is what KC would have wanted. It was a tremendous stress, but something I wanted to do. The ocean, on the other hand, had it's own intentions and we were unable to get out to the Islands due to rough seas. None of us were willing to risk our safety, now more than ever. I know it was the right call, but still have the task of the ashes looming in my mind.
In August, I went to "Camp Widow," in San Diego. It was a conference for widowed folks to meet, network, and find strength in a community of peers who get it. I met some incredible people and the experience let me know that though grief is a lifelong process, there is the possibility to keep moving onward in the journey, and find peace, happiness, and maybe even love, again. It was a beautiful display of empathy and love, something I will never forget.
Thanksgiving this year was one of the hardest days in quite some time. It was the anniversary of KC proposing to me. I barely made it out of my room and into the celebration that was going on. If it weren't for my sister, I don't think i would have come out of my room at all. "Do I have to?" I asked her. She just looked me right in the eye and said, "yes." I hope she knows how badly I needed to hear her say that.
And this past weekend, it has been one year since the day he died. I have now encountered all of the "firsts." And guess what? I am still here. So what, i ran away for the weekend, I don't feel cowardly, I feel strong. I am still desperately sad, but I fucking made it through one year and one day without the man I thought I literally couldn't live without. I feel proud. I feel that KC is proud. I feel like I can tackle tomorrow, my birthday, with joy and love in my heart because I was good enough to be loved by a man like KC. I can celebrate Christmas with my family because I know I can live through it, I have, after all, done it before. I have things to look forward to, the birth of my niece in February especially. I have taken steps to improve my overall physical health and start dedicating myself to mental and physical well-being. I will start taking classes again in January. I will keep working with children on the Autism Spectrum and make a difference in their lives. I will dance again. I WILL love again. That is the most important thing I have learned about myself in the last 366 days: I will love again. Because even in this pain I know that it was worth it. It was worth this pain to have had the love I shared with KC, to be loved the way I was loved. I don't know how or when, but I know it will happen and that will be a gift from KC, for I only know love because of him, and every bit of love I share for the rest of my life, is through and because of him. For that, I am eternally grateful.
Christmas last year is barely a memory. I kind of remember being at my Aunt and Uncle's house in San Francisco, but don't remember coming or going or even what happened while we were there. It was just another day, sans True Love.
I dreaded Valentine's Day. I thought that would be the day that would ruin me. Until being with KC, I never thought much of the day because I had never been in love. My Valentine's Days with KC were pure magic. The first one, I was working at outback and KC made a HUGE banner with a road sign in yellow; "Baby, Be on Board with me: I Love You!" He brought it into my work with roses and he was all dressed up. He even "hired" our friend Trevor to help him hold up the banner. It was unbelievably darling, and his face was so cute, a perfect amalgamation of love, pride, and a little bit of embarrassment. I still have the banner. Last year i expected to have a horrible day, the kind of day that you can't escape the pain and you think you will never come out of it, but somehow I felt hopeful. I don't know how, or why. But it just didn't sting the way I thought it would. Just another day.
KC's birthday was tough. Mid- April was tough. I went to a bar and ordered a shot of tequila and a Sam Adams. It's what KC would have ordered up for his birthday if he had been there. I stared at the drinks for a long time, tears in my eyes. The man sitting next to me said something like "man, musta been a rough day!" I lost it. just started crying like crazy. He must have been mortified but I didn't care. I apologized, for whatever reason, and told him what I was doing alone in a bar crying and looking at beverages. He was kind and sympathetic. I took a few sips of the tequila, paid for the drinks. I left the waitress a big tip, touched the Sam's bottle and whispered, "Happy birthday, True," and left.
May 3rd was our Anniversary. I invited a few close friends, my sister and brother-in-law to come to Outback to have dinner with me. It was a joyous event, good food and some of my closest people. Lots of memories shared and laughter. It was much better than staying home alone and crying. It was just right.
In June, I visited Santa Barbara for the first time since moving back from there. I drove down there alone, it was not an easy drive. Coming into the city was incredibly tough. Seeing that ocean, I hadn't seen the ocean since Hawaii and it was no easier then. I cried so hard I had to pull over until I could see again. Driving up to KC's dad's house was awful: I had driven up to that house millions of times, seeing KC's truck in the driveway, but seeing it this time was just another reminder that he wasn't there. I walked up and hugged Dave and we cried together. There is so much sadness in that house, where there was once so much love. It continues to break my heart. KC's father has now lost his wife and his son. It just isn't fair.
In July I returned to Santa Barbara with the intentions to spread KC's ashes at the Channel Islands, knowing that is what KC would have wanted. It was a tremendous stress, but something I wanted to do. The ocean, on the other hand, had it's own intentions and we were unable to get out to the Islands due to rough seas. None of us were willing to risk our safety, now more than ever. I know it was the right call, but still have the task of the ashes looming in my mind.
In August, I went to "Camp Widow," in San Diego. It was a conference for widowed folks to meet, network, and find strength in a community of peers who get it. I met some incredible people and the experience let me know that though grief is a lifelong process, there is the possibility to keep moving onward in the journey, and find peace, happiness, and maybe even love, again. It was a beautiful display of empathy and love, something I will never forget.
Thanksgiving this year was one of the hardest days in quite some time. It was the anniversary of KC proposing to me. I barely made it out of my room and into the celebration that was going on. If it weren't for my sister, I don't think i would have come out of my room at all. "Do I have to?" I asked her. She just looked me right in the eye and said, "yes." I hope she knows how badly I needed to hear her say that.
And this past weekend, it has been one year since the day he died. I have now encountered all of the "firsts." And guess what? I am still here. So what, i ran away for the weekend, I don't feel cowardly, I feel strong. I am still desperately sad, but I fucking made it through one year and one day without the man I thought I literally couldn't live without. I feel proud. I feel that KC is proud. I feel like I can tackle tomorrow, my birthday, with joy and love in my heart because I was good enough to be loved by a man like KC. I can celebrate Christmas with my family because I know I can live through it, I have, after all, done it before. I have things to look forward to, the birth of my niece in February especially. I have taken steps to improve my overall physical health and start dedicating myself to mental and physical well-being. I will start taking classes again in January. I will keep working with children on the Autism Spectrum and make a difference in their lives. I will dance again. I WILL love again. That is the most important thing I have learned about myself in the last 366 days: I will love again. Because even in this pain I know that it was worth it. It was worth this pain to have had the love I shared with KC, to be loved the way I was loved. I don't know how or when, but I know it will happen and that will be a gift from KC, for I only know love because of him, and every bit of love I share for the rest of my life, is through and because of him. For that, I am eternally grateful.
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