If I can be honest there was something magical about waking up in my own bed the first Christmas in my apartment and since then I've anxiously wanted to spend at least Christmas Eve or Day in my own home. I was soooo poor that first year and my apartment was not even furnished yet alone decorated but I made due. I cooked lasagna and opened presents, I listened to Christmas music and watched all the Harry Potter movies. It was great and if I had a bigger place I could see myself hosting Christmas for family and friends because I've suddenly become a domestic goddess.
But it's hard to explain that to people. I have yet to meet anyone who understands my desire to be alone on Christmas. It's not necessarily the Christmas blues, but there is a stillness about the month of December that I like to take a moment and pause in. But i'm rarely allowed to do this because being alone during the holidays is socially unacceptable. Kat was absolutely suffocating during the holidays and my Aunt is more demanding of my time and resource during this month.
Since Marie died I've accepted that December is going to be tough for me. Because of this I try and compensate for how shitty I feel by making the holidays as cozy and light-hearted as possible. I decorate and bake cookies and watched campy holiday movies. That's mainly even why I like spending Christmas alone. When I am surrounded by people, it's like I remember suddenly that one very important person is missing and it's hard to reconcile the beauty and magic of the holidays with the devastating realization.
During the month of December my thoughts of Marie are always front and center most days, especially today. Marie's birthday is tomorrow and as I was sitting at my cubicle, I suddenly felt this awful pang of sadness. It's like there is this cloud over my head which makes it impossible to think of anything else except her.
I am surrounded by people with regrets. People who feel they've missed out on something . Just the other day Heather texted me in hysterics because she is turning 30 in a few days and regrets how her life turned out. "How is this my life? I think my would be completely different if...", yadda yadda yadda. I listened of course, I empathized, I tried to give advice and after she calmed down a bit I retreated to that place in the clouds that hangs over my head.
I am a person who accepts the decisions I eventually make. Sure it takes me a long time to get to that place of acceptance but I rarely think about what "could have been's" when it comes to relationships or situations. Sure life could have been different if I went to Med School, it also could have been different if i stayed in South Carolina instead of moving to New York, it could have been different if I pursued a career in publishing that I so adamantly thought I wanted, it could have been different if Sean choose me.
But dwelling on "could have's" does not help with "what is", so I don't have obsessive thoughts about the sliding doors of scenarios. I believe things are they way they are for a reason and because time travel is not an option, I have accepted my life at 30 as something in progress. But I must admit there is only one fixed point in this thought process that does not apply: Marie.
I wonder all the time what life would be like if she was alive. I wonder who she would be today is she decided to just live and exist. I wonder what her life would be like on the other side of this tragedy. What version of womanhood she'd encompass. Maybe she'd be married with kids. Maybe she'd finally have a house in the woods with the lumberjack of her dreams. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Selfishly I can't help but ponder my own existence as well if she was here. I am almost certain we would still be friends in some capacity. But I am so aware of how much I have changed since she died, that I feel envious of whatever imagined life I could have led if she had lived. Maybe, maybe, I would have turned out differently. I wonder what I could have accomplished in the two years I was paralyzed by grief. I am curious where the path would have led me had I not broken down right in the middle.
Because if I can be honest Marie's death has changed me. I am kind, I am gentle but there is a stiffness to me now, or better yet, a numbness that I have yet to shake.I am unable to relate to people. I cannot commit to one thing or person because I know how quickly things can change. I am too aware of how that the rug can be pulled from under you...so I am always prepared for the worst before I even consider the consistency of calm. I am sad and sullen and jaded by the loss. Of course sad and sullen and jaded do not define me, but I recognize it is a part of me.
And I regret that she isn't here. I miss her immensely, but mainly i am filled with regret. I didn't get to her in time and I knew, I knew that something was wrong because I felt it. But I waited too long to see the signs, and by the time realized that something was seriously fucked up, I was just too late. And I wonder all the time, if things would have turned out differently had I been a better friend. If she had known that I was in her corner no matter how terrible things were going in her life. I regret that she felt so alone and that she'll never know that I looked for her and sought her out and tried to find her but she was always just one step ahead and out of reach.
Tomorrow is her 31st birthday. Tomorrow i'll get up and go through my day and try to keep it together because focusing on the "maybe" will undue me. But tonight, I'm okay with sulking and contemplating the maybes. Tonight, i feel okay mourning her "what if's" because my best friend was phenomenal and complex and just the worst-best person I've ever known and I wish she was here. Everything feels a little duller without her.
No comments:
Post a Comment