My birthday was Saturday. I’m gratefully 31.
I bailed on a wedding today. The wedding of a friend I love. I meant well. I bought a dress last night, put it on this afternoon, got in my car smelling of dry shampoo. Had to turn around about a quarter of the way through. A broken promise to attend - one I never should have made - it wasn’t going to be possible.
Because if I went, I wouldn’t have even been there. I’m still reeling from today’s visit even now. Instead of the McKinney Cotton Mill venue, I would have still been in that room with my dad, watching his arms shake, watching him struggle to find the motivation to speak, slumping down on the bed at an odd angle.. It wasn’t a bad visit today. He was a bit more alert. He tried. But he’s still barely eating.
This is the in the realm of the worst of life. Murder is worse, suicide also, but this is still a bleak and slow end. Half in and half out of the world. My best friend turning into a ghost.
I think I am still doing a good job staying in the world. Lots of work, so workdays go by fast. A sense of accomplishment. Little funny moments there. My birthday yesterday, a cubicle decorated with ”Aristocats” cutouts on Friday. A nice talk over dinner with my mom. Panera. Even Miles behaved. Barnes and Noble too.
But I ate and slept too much today, damn it all. I think I’ve gained about 6 pounds. Backsliding, but nothing I can’t undo in 2 weeks. I have an expensive gym membership, after all. Must put my mind where my money is.
Weddings and love stories prod me with what I lack. I hate them. I wanted that once. I could have had it. Not sure falling in love matters as much as it is supposed to. I knew real romantic love. It had its run. Dried up. 50% of marriages do. We all mean well when we first hold it. Companionship, acceptance, a spiritual synthesis. Laughing. Doing it all together. Unfortunately, I am always going to be in my head. The only one really in it is God. Some of us hold onto it too tightly and crush it. Others just let it drop because it becomes too much to hold, or decide they want to hold something else.
I made a commitment to myself yesterday. If I am going to blood oath my life away to anything, it has to be writing. I want to be traditionally published. A personal essay somewhere. A book? Should I allow myself that dream? I ask myself what it will do for me all the time though. Will it make me matter? I already do. Life is about love. I watch enough Near Death Experience videos to know that. Love, grow, evaporate. There’s no time in heaven and even the flowers worship God.
I want to go back to God. Killing myself is breaking the contract, so that’s not an option. So I just have to love and try. But I want to lay on the floor and never get up. I’m staring at a burning candle. Little little controlled flames.
If they leapt out of the candle, they could kill me. But they are pretty and useful as long as you babysit them. Funny. If they went rogue and I stopped moving, married the floor, I would die.
When I was born, my Grandma planted a tree for me. She did this for each grandchild. Mine is stunted. It has some tree disease. I always took that as a bad omen, but I think I misinterpreted it. It’s alive! Just as alive as the other grandchildren trees. It’s trying.
God help that tree. God help me. God help us all.
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