This weekend, the ashes of one of my closest high school friends / old boyfriend were scattered in the ocean near where we grew up. And as friends and family gathered on a beach yesterday to remember the fun and joy he brought to others, I’m reminded all too poignantly that sometimes neither age nor experience, success nor family, love nor friends, have anything to do with how we leave this world.
There was a beach memorial service that I couldn’t attend with the people whose lives my friend touched. Of those that I know, I haven’t seen many of them in more than two decades. I wish I had been able to join. And as I see the pictures both of the memorial service and of our high school years that my friends keep posting, I think how it’s amazing that despite three thousand miles and two decades, it’s actually so easy to slip back into the days of our youth.
I have no words. As someone who has built her career on her ability to use words effectively and well, this simple statement is both humbling and terrifying. But those emotions are simply reactions to the other emotions that threaten to engulf me. Today, on this Sunday of what has been an eternally long weekend, I am filled with pain and sadness, helplessness and fear, sympathy and empathy, righteousness and anger, fatalism and passion, loneliness and solidarity.
The sign my daughter made and carried on January 29, 2017 at the Boston protest against the immigration ban
A couple months ago, I had dinner(ish) and drinks (more of this) with a friend, and in the course of our conversation we spoke of many things – “of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings.” We talked of opportunities passed by and wasted potential – and ultimately, whether they mattered when considering one’s overall happiness. Continue reading
In my last post, I spoke a little about how I’ve become more comfortable in my own skin – about who I’ve become as a person – then I think I’ve been in a while. But every so often, you get a glimpse of how others might see you too. Sometimes that’s an amazing view. And sometimes it makes you realize that you still have quite a lot of work to do. In less than 24 hours, I got both.
Divorce is a funny thing. Even in a case such as mine, where everything is amicable and hunky-dory, divorce by its nature represents change. It’s now been almost 14 months since my ex and I filed for divorce, and nearly three years since we officially separated. And not surprisingly, the impact of that action has continued to change, morph and mature as time has gone on.
On the eve of our divorce, I predicted this: Continue reading
Some things get clearer the older you get. Some people discover (at 30-something) what they want to be when they grow up or that they don’t really want to have children or that a midlife crisis may not come in the form of a car. Some journeys of self-discovery can take decades, some take years, months or just days.
Funny thing about this August – I’ve had the chance to catch up in person with quite a number of high school friends – some of whom I haven’t seen in about 16-17 years. And it’s been kind of weird. When you go this long without seeing people, they tend to remain eternally frozen in the moment you last saw them. Think Han Solo in carbonite. Though hopefully without the look of intense pain. And somehow against all practical reality – despite knowing intellectually that a decade and a half of intense change have passed – some deep-seated, emotional part of you half expects that your friends will thaw out from that carbonite of time slightly worse for wear but fundamentally with the same boyish good looks, rakish smile, devil-may-care attitude and smartass remarks.