"See you later..."

I got the text about twenty minutes before the end of my shift.

"My grandma just passed."

Instantly the tears welled up and with it a disgust that I didn't expect. Disgust over being tethered to a desk. I wanted to walk out. Unplug. Leave.

When my shift finally ended I got in the car and locked the doors and let out a noise that was foreign even to myself. A mix of a sigh, a scream, a surrender. A mix of anger and sadness. A slight sense of relief, for her.

------------------------------------------------

You were one of the few people I admired. I can't explain why, though there are plenty of reasons but what are reasons if nothing more than a list of traits and you were more than that.

You handled me in a way that few people ever have. Sometimes, if the wine was right and we had just enough alone time, you would pull out of me things I would seldom talk to anybody about. My father, my parents, my fears about marriages and parenthood and sometimes my selfish disdain for both of those things. You pulled them out of me and didn't suggest a solution, only acknowledgement. And that was all I needed.

Few people know that.

-------------------------------------------------

I raced home as fast I could. I wasn't sure why I was pushing the speed limit, why my arms were going numb, why my hands were shaking. She was gone. There was nothing to outrace. And looking back on it this morning, I think I was just angry. I was so damn angry I hadn't been around more. Angry that I slept, ate, bathed, watched a movie, listened to music while she was a couple miles away. I was angry that life still relentlessly moves on while others simultaneously stop. Soon life will move on and I don't think I'll be as angry. This seems like something she would tell me, so I keep telling this to myself.

--------------------------------------------------

I'll always remember this one afternoon. You were feeling particularly well and wanted to take Jack to the zoo. I was slightly worried, I wasn't sure you would have the energy to fully enjoy an outing in our Tucson heat and Jack's sometimes juggernaut approach to life. But you maintained that all was well.

We walked around and took our time.



Before we left we visited the gift shop which I told you to ignore because it was overpriced. But you didn't listen. You were dead set on buying Jack not only a stuffed animal elephant but a giraffe companion for it as well as a book that made jungle noises. You have spoiled Jack since his birth. We have jokingly dubbed him "little prince" because of you. Because of the esteem with which you have held him since he was nothing more than holdable. The love that you have had for him is one of the things that I believe I'll miss the most.

We took a train ride around the park. Jack pointed out everything and we soaked in the spring sun. After we grew tired of the park we went to a Mexican restaurant downtown and I was so excited to bring you over to my stomping ground. Once again I was letting you in more than most people. The margarita was just right and the beer was to your liking and the afternoon, that afternoon, was perfect. It took weeks for Jack to stop talking about it. He still brings it up from time to time.

-------------------------------------------

"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Yeah."
"We just have to remember all the good things."
"I know."
"And this is a good thing. It would have gotten worse, harder, uglier."
"I know."
-------------------------------------------

The last time I saw you was at Greg's birthday dinner. You were in the back. Your daughter was there talking to you and I came in to say hello. And as soon as I sat down that old familiar comfort set in.

"You look great."
"Thanks."
"That dress is lovely."

I like that we can both appreciate the aesthetics in life. Even when life is not so grand. Some people would call us shallow for it but we know better.

"How are you?"
"Well...here."
"How's the job? How are you doing, I know you don't like it very much."
"Yeah. It's tough but I guess that's being a grown up right?"

I think you smiled at that because you've watched me struggle so hard against the practicalities of being an adult.

"But, you know, I'd rather be busy than bored. It's better that way. Even though it's hard sometimes."
"Of course!"
"My mind gets too idle and I start to unravel..."
"I know."

And before we start to turn our quick "hello" into another therapy session the dinner bell has rung. You won't be joining us, you are not well enough. Knowing that made the walk to the dinner table one of the longest I've had in awhile. My boots clicking on the tile was an assault to my ears and the further away I knew they were getting hurt somewhere in my rib cage.

"Love you."
"Love you too."
"See you later."

-----------------------------------------------

Greg and Jack had their last visit with you a couple days ago. I was at work on a Sunday. Again.

"...even though it's hard sometimes."

I'm glad Jack got to see you. I wish I could have.

But mostly I wish I had gotten to say thank you.

Thank you for accepting me, even though there are traits in myself that are sometimes unacceptable. Thank you for refilling my glass and my hope. Thank you for having such good taste and for feeling the music and the nuances. Thank you for your children. Thank you for loving Jack.




I hope that wherever you are going has plenty of pinot grigio and sunlight at your feet. I hope there are elephants with giraffe companions. I hope your son is there. I hope that you left knowing that I loved you. Always.





Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories; They're all that's left you

It's cool we can still be friends...

...or not.

"I think it would be best for our significant others if we go our seperate ways," he said to her.

The final blow. The cutting of the cord that had tethered three people. Severance. The end of a lifetime of friendships and memories.

I met him in high school. We had the same geometry class ran by a very traditional Indian woman.

"You like the Nightmare Before Christmas?" he asked, pointing to my messanger beg emblazoned with Jack Skellington.

"I LOVE the Nightmare Before Christmas and pretty much anything Tim Burton has touched," I replied, my heart racing. Somebody noticed me. Me! The girl with the mousey hair and heavy eyeliner. The girl whos voice was nearly crippled by adolescent angst and self-consciousness.

He graduated two years before me, and had much more of a life outside of school than I did. Studying the stars, driving through Gates Pass, a relationship with a beautiful college girl. I didn't know any of that at the time we met, I simply knew his name was Rene, and I knew I wanted to be his friend. This guy with green eyes and spikey raven hair, he was special.
When he graduated, I stayed behind. I went to classes, I grew and eventually blossomed (although I don't think I REALLY 'blossomed' until after high school), I had a precious handful of friends but was generally a loner. And all the while, through the monotony of classes, proms and events, boys and girlfriends, I thought of him. Did he still remember me? Should I try to reconnect?
Being the hopeless romantic I was, I decided to make the leap, drop a line. When I did I found, to my lucky stars, he was single (on a break from the college girlfriend he had, whom I would later befriend, but thats in a little bit).
We began to date the summer before my senior year. I was on top of the world. A girl like me (at the time a novice to the world and all things men) doesn't date older guys who seem so mysterious, who drive their own car capable of taking said girl to hidden desert landscapes to watch the Milky Way. A girl like me with an over-protective father capable of scaring away mysterious boys who come to take his only daughter to movies or dinners. But we did. Balls to the walls.
Summer came and went and before I sarted my senior year of high school I feared that our romance would have the fate of July's monsoons. Intense yet short lived. I feared some other witty, sexy, legally able to drive collegiate minx would sweep him off his feet and I would be yesterdays news. To my surprise we made it work. We made it work for nine months, but that's not to say it was easy. He lived downtown. I lived with my parents, had no car, but a bus pass and an arsenal of lies and excuses lined up for when my parents asked why I was coming home at 6 p.m. when school let out at 2:25.
"Swim practise!"
"Lunch with the girls!"
"So and so needed help with her essay!"
"Yearbook layouts! Damn those deadlines!"
They didn't know I was downtown visiting my boyfriend. My father would have castrated him and locked me in a chastity belt. A chastity belt AND six dobermans chained to my hips.
We kept our romance going as long as we could, even as the currents of life got rockier and rockier. College was tough. High school was tough. My parents divorcing in front of my eyes, and not always civily was tough. We held each others hand and pushed through. Through my tears on the phone. Through the divide in area codes. And when the worst happened, when his father died suddenly and unexpectedly, I held him at the end of the memorial service, my father gave his mother a hug, my mother held my hand. It was the first time, in a long time that my family was together and it was the first time, in a long time, that we understood what mattered.
I never cried so much in my life, at one point having to walk out of the ceremony to hyperventilate in the women's restroom as my friend Samantha held me. I don't know why I was so immensely effected, I had only met his father a couple of times. I suppose it was pain I could feel in him that I couldn't mend. It was the pain I felt in his mother, a widow at an untimely age. The silences and the words that get caught in your throat. I thought I would run out of tears. I was wrong.
We broke up about a month later. He needed to find himself and time to heal. I couldn't see past the hurt. I hated the world. Why couldn't I take the pain away? Why was MY family falling apart? Why did his dad have to die? Why does my heart hurt so bad?
I fell into a low. Chain smoking every night, having sex with people I barely knew just to make it seem like I was wanted. Brushing people off. Cutting myself (literally and spiritually). No appetite. No faith. I was merely existing at best.
It wasn't until I met my current fiance Greg, that I began to heal myself. I began to deal with my demons and in turn I fell in love. I opened myself up once again and this time for good. Everything was good, and with my newfound lease on life, I realized things I should have a long time ago.I accepted the fact that he had to leave me. I respected the fact that he had to get himself together. It wasnt that I wasn't enough. It was that the problem wouldn't have been mended with ME. It lied within him. But I wondered: How was he?

Rene, was dating Colleen again. Trying to get back on track, living, dealing.
"Colleen", I thought. "The girl he left me for" I assumed. I hated her, and it went back to when we were dating. Colleen was a long time friend of his, and their history left me intimidated and thus defensive.
Little did I know, that they would break up, and one humid summer night I recieved an e-mail from Colleen. We had only exchanged insults and threats before, so I was wary of opening it. When I did, I didn't realize I was opening a new door. She apologized for her actions from the past, she was hurt and needed someone to talk to, someone who knew exactly how she felt at that moment. Our mutual experience at heartache turned into a friendship that we still cultivate today.
I learned a lot about Colleen. Her history with Rene, her personality. "How could I have hated this person?" I thought. This person who gave so much of herself, emotionally invested and sacrificed. I learned a lot about relationships by hearing of her's and Rene's. Of the ebs and flows and how sometimes things aren't always shiny and happy, but it's what brings two people together that counts. An adoration and respect of character that gets one through and reminds one to stop and refrain from throwing it all away. Friendship.
In the end, even though romantic relationships may not work out, sometimes you are lucky enough to seperate yourself from the mindset of "a lost romance" to "a salvaged friendship." Colleen had and has always wanted to make sure that frienship stayed. Even through fights, and other women who took him for granted, she was there. To take him to work when he was without a ride. To cook, talk, help, and care for and about him. I respected her immensely for it. The ability to still love someone without being "in love" with them.
Colleen has since moved on to a wonderful relationship with a wonderful man. I have since become a mother to a son and fiancee to the same man that saved me. Colleen and I still maintain a frienship. And Colleen and I still care about Rene. Our significant others may wonder why sometimes, but they support us, knowing where they stand and secure in their places in our lives.
So how come there must be a severance? How come after my congratulatory words to him about his new relationship and Colleen's support through thick and thin must ties be cut? I may never know, as I have been told that I must be stayed away from.
It may hurt, that my frienship, OUR friendships, are being tossed to sea so frivilously, but I have come to understand that change happens. Colleen and I still have each other and the memories. One day we may be talking over dinner and we'll hope he's doing well. One day maybe EVERYBODY can get along. One day, maybe Rene Pena will know we have always cared and will always be there.

Even if it's silent.