What I didn't tell Z was that this heartbreak is only the first in what will be many losses, that life is all about loss and that the losses only become more frequent as we get older. She doesn't know that recently, when I was transferring my contacts from my old phone to my new one I was shocked to find so many people in my world - or at least in my address book - are no longer alive. Should I have told her that I still have the last two messages my mother left on my voicemail? Or that I don't have the heart to remove my favorite cousin's name and number from my address book? Should I have told her that as recently as last week I saw something that made me laugh and started to pick up the phone to call my friend, Heidi, who has been dead for over a year, now? I wonder if she'd understand how sad I am that the plan I had, with my old schoolmate, Joseph, to meet for a shot of bourbon when I finally get to Alaska, will never come to pass because Joseph died a few months ago?
It seems to me that we start out in life with a set of scales that are weighed down on one side by the people we have around us. As time passes, and these people leave - move or switch schools or divorce us or die - they jump onto the other side of the scales, weighing that side down a little more. Most of the time, I pay these scales no mind. For this reason, it's shocking to me to look over and notice that the two sides of the scales are closer than ever.
I'll probably never get rid of those voicemails or my cousin's phone number. Audaciously funny things will always make me think of Heidi and wish she were around to laugh at them with me. One day, when I finally get to Alaska, I'm having that shot of bourbon, and toasting to Joseph and a life well lived. I don't even like bourbon. I don't like cats, either, but I'll never forget Jasper.
7 comments:
What a sweet and sincere story of love and loss. A lesson we all have to learn over and over.
Achingly, gorgeously rendered. I love you.
I really liked the notion of the scales and the shifting weights. A beautifully told piece about loss and the depth and longevity of love.
This was so poignant. I admire the honesty with which you dealth with the loss and the candour with which you told the child. They are much stronger than we give them credit for. Beautiful post.
Your description of the scales and balances of life was spot on and amazing. Well done.
Your words gave me shivers. Very poignant, very moving, very true. I still have my uncle's details saved on my phone, and no intention of removing them.
I'm a firm believer that the dead watch us in an all-white movie theater on a huge screen eating popcorn and laughing and laughing at the show we're putting on for them. Big hugs to you and to Z.
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