Looking for the Lovely
I've known him for what seems like a short amount of time compared to his other friends, and many of mine. Only none of my good, long-term friends live in the same city as me anymore, so those I have made in this new, strange place are important to me.
Since I arrived here there was a hole in me for lack of local social interaction, and after several months now I've worked to develop some friendships. I now have a handful of people I can consider friends, and he is one of them.
Things are looking up for me in this crazy place where I once felt so alone and hopeless. Everyone seems to like me and accept me as a friend, including him.
A bit more than everyone else, he comes over individually to hang out with me and my boyfriend some weekends. It seems I'm putting some roots down in this new place in the form of good friends.
I'm making memories and bonding through fun social gatherings, developing inside jokes and knowing all of my new group of friends better and better everyday - he is definitely one of the ones I am closest to.
We all miss him one night while we gather to celebrate a birthday without him because he's sick with pneumonia.
The next morning he dies.
I'm shocked. It's so unfair for him. He thought he'd be back at school in a few weeks. He thought he had more time.
So did we all. I thought I'd see him the first weekend I was back in town after the new year began. I thought I'd get the chance to be friends with him for a long time. I thought I could help him celebrate his birthday in April.
He didn't know he wouldn't see us again, neither did we. I hurt for him, for his family, for his friends, and for me.
I cannot see the lovely in any of this. There is none.
‘Tis The Most Lovely Season
It's been a while since my last post. Unfortunately, my life had been lacking in inspiration for the most lovely things. Three days ago, however, marked the beginning of my favorite time of year - inspiration ensued.
Snow. Yes, I know that many don't qualify the type of snow that Houston, Texas produces to be actual snow. It didn't stick much to the ground, and several hours later was just icey puddles and glimmering frost on cars, but one thing that did stick was that it got me in the holiday mood! I know, I know, I sound ridiculously cheesy. There is just something about bundling up in warmth and looking out on the gray winter days, watching your breath and steam from roofs billow through the crisp air, that makes me think "damn! i love winter!" I especially love precipitation that I can encounter without an umbrella and not be as miserable as a recently bathed cat after said encounter - even if northerners won't admit it's snow. There's something magical about this time of year for me that isn't tangible but I can appreciate none the less.
As a child Christmas was always something to look forward to. I am part of a huge family that was strong on traditions. "Was" being the operative word. When I was fourteen, two days before my birthday and four months before our typical huge family Christmas, my grandmother died of pancreatic cancer. I knew even before she passed that my family would never be the same, but still I hoped things wouldn't change. The years of gathering as many aunts, uncles, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, and cousins as possible into the same tiny, creaky house that belonged to my grandparents on Christmas eve were over. There would be no night-before family feast and gift opening. Hot chocolate drinking with siblings and cousins, while grandma read both a santa-oriented and jesus-oriented Christmas story was no more. Though the joy of those types of Christmases was sucked away with the death of my grandmother, humans are both creatures of habit and quite adaptable. I simply adapted to new, less-extended-family oriented holidays and kept my cheesy and sentimental holiday spirit alive.
Today is the 83rd birthday of my grandfather, who has survived liver cancer now for over a year past diagnosis and without treatment - an undeniable miracle (if you believe in those sorts of things). He, along with said grandmother, was always a part of the foundation that formed my love for this season. I'm not sure if this will be his last birthday, or if this Christmas will be my last with him, since his prognosis has been so poor for so long, but I am sure that I will truly cherish this winter holiday with my family. Very little could ever ruin this time of year for me once the cool weather blows in and blinking lights go up. I've had many years since I was fourteen in which Christmas, New Year, or some/all of the holiday season were tainted by disaster, yet somehow - year after year - something in my chemistry changes when I get to pull out my winter clothes from the closet and bundle up. I truly love winter, and I have a feeling I'll love this one just as much or more than all the winters of the past. Love, love, love it.
In the spirit, as I will be for at least a month or two, here's something for all the misfits out there!