Monday, September 17, 2012

Friends and Sunflowers

Friends episode: "The one where she is acting strange."

This new phase is really sifting out the friends who are up for the challenge of being with me. New and old friends in years, young and older in age, close mileage or long distance.

During a day I will sprint from being winged fairy godmother to raging deranged witch.
From singing "I believe in Angels" which is a line in an Abba song to "Never Mind the Bollocks" by the Sex Pistols, which was a song and a torn t-shirt.
I have perfected the art of changing ones mind. I am that annoying person in the car in front of you who doesn't trust that the green light means go.  I consider every single Vacation Discount-Groupon- Living Social-Anti Social-Living Coupon that pops up on the screen. I've nearly registered and/or bought every self help-retreat-book-CD-seminar-conference-course-self study-on line-in person-drive through-12 step program-tap ball change step- talk to whomever you believe is your God this IS your answer. It will all work while I think about it, until I think that it won't.

I scroll through Facebook photos and comments feeling creepy as though it's illegal to do so. I want the phone to ring and sink into a cushion when it does.
I swear some mornings I sing on the door step "Who Will Buy This Doubtful Lady."
Some hours I act like Oliver asking for more, while other hours, I am Lady Bracknell, judging and puffing my way through endless cups of tea. Or wine. Or martini. Or chocolate. There's always chocolate.
I have considered vacations, working, short trips, no trips, dinners, cooking, television, walking, talking, silence, dancing. I'm a uncatalogued shelf of suggestions.
I cannot sleep. I laugh. I feel strong. I do not want to carry on. I do not want to think about a job. I think about a job. I hope. I wonder. I cry. I still fancy George Clooney and David Silverstein simply makes my heart thump so loud that I search in my blindness for him.

Yesterday I experienced a reminder that I have lost everything that has been my focus for ten years.
Everything.  Then Jill jumps up, puts coffee in my hand, holds the other. Takes me for gentle shopping and feeds me brownies.

Whatever crap field I am currently walking through, I see far worse for others and I know that sunflowers still grow for me. I'm a lucky one going through grief and I have the opportunity to grow in new ways, even though the opportunity has been forced and feels entirely false.

Thank you for my dear friends who are throwing the seeds, the rope, the raft, the cookies, the carrots, the dollars, the hugs, the space, the closeness and the genuine love to act as my trellis.

There will be a garden again. I miss you my love xx

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