After the decision to make this blog was made my attention promptly turned to naming it. I hate naming things. I’m not good at it. The only things I’m good at naming are plants. Plants? Plants. They all need elaborate old lady names. AMIRIGHT?!
So I agonized over it, because sometimes it feels good to agonize over stupid things when there is real agony to be had.
I couldn’t think of the perfect name and began to panic. So I did what I do when I panic now. I read through the cards Bryan gave me and started to cry. Cool, calm, and collected as always.
This past Valentine’s Day Bryan gave me a card with this pig on it. #Romance
“My Dear Shmoo,
This picture is perfect as a representation of our relationship. (S)He’s strange, (s)he’s maybe a little funny-looking to those people outside, (s)he’s maybe a little messy sometimes, but (s)he’s sturdy, strong, and ultimately beautiful. Most of all I’m glad that both our relationship and this picture are in my life. I’m so happy we found each other….”
My favorite part? That he actively wrote (s)he. Because it would be wrong to assume. Love him.
The truth is, though, that is the perfect representation of our relationship. And the even harder truth is that right now I’m having a difficult time remembering that. I’m struggling to remember those happy moments. I’m struggling to feel anything other than sadness and loss when I think about the past two years. Those last days in the hospital, that phone call, and that first night are all on repeat in my head. Everyone keeps saying it takes time to look back with happiness. Right now I’d take looking back without pain.
I’m still trying to stay active. A few days ago that took me on a run/walk and then to Brooklyn Bridge Park. To be honest, after I finished my walk/run I had a bit of a breakdown. Everything just felt overwhelming, sad, unfair, etc etc etc. It was one of those moments of crying in public. Killing it. But, I already had plans to meet a lovely friend & I have committed myself to not staying home to cry. So I had my moment, took a breath, literally said “get it together bitch” to myself, got it together, and headed to the park. It was a beautiful day and being near the water sounded perfect and relaxing. It wasn’t until I arrived that I remembered the last time I was at this place. It was September of 2013 and I was about to move to California for two months. Bryan came to New York to spend one last weekend with me so we decided to do “New York-y” things. That started with walking the Brooklyn Bridge, sitting by the water, and eating ice cream. It was the perfect day.
You would think this would be upsetting, something to just completely send me off the deep end after my moment earlier in the day. In actuality, it made me smile. I had accidentally stumbled in to a happy memory. A beautiful memory.
So I guess this is the grieving process? Messy moments lead to strong moments lead to beautiful moments? I guess we’ll find out.
<3
Side note: Bryan gave me that Patriots shirt later that night. So I would have him with me in California, and wouldn’t be lonely or afraid.