reprint: from that awful week that led to…


originally posted in my first week of blogging, november 3, 2008, in a therapeutic attempt at dealing with the shock of seeing my father comatose, not knowing how hard the road ahead was going to be. this afternoon i encountered a coworker who got the call as well, and it sucker punched me in the stomach. i was catapulted back to that time in my life, stricken with tears and wishing for warm arms to just say ‘i’m here, and i’m not going to let anything hurt you, and it’s going to be okay’. i just need that comfort, that extra effort, that warmth.

Here’s to dangerous women. Here’s to wanderers. Here’s to never giving up on finding that little piece of happiness each of us so richly deserve. Here’s to wearing our hearts on our sleeves. Here’s to laughing a little too loud, sipping a little too much wine, dancing a little too wildly. Or so they say. But not us. Here’s to living out loud. Loving strong. Dreaming fantastically. Feeling everything. Exploring every option. Learning from those around us. Taking a chance on love. Saying exactly what we feel, when we feel it, because we know that life is short. Life is precious. Life is meant to be lived, explored, inhaled. These are my friends, who remind those they love that that each of us are perfect, just as we are. These are my sisters, all in different places in their lives, but all so similar in their beauty and strength and individuality. These are my heroes, who I’ve met in widely different circumstances, and who all love me for me, and vice versa. These are people in my life who inspire me to keep going, keep taking chances, keep being an artist, keep stopping to smell the roses, keep taking new adventures, keep looking at life through various lenses, letting new experiences in and never giving up on what can be.

I have been called many things in my life – gypsy, crazy, intellectual, loud, silly, stubborn, bohemian, opinionated, introspective, philosophical, flighty, feisty, difficult, blah blah blah. But to be simply told that I am loved, that I am special, that is what matters. That is all I need to keep breathing, keep thinking, keep finding ways to laugh and love this life. That is all I need to see the light at the end of the tunnel, to see new ways of dealing with life’s challenges, to find possibilities in my future I’d never previously imagined. Love is everywhere. In the hugs of these sisters, in the dog who snuggles up to fit in the crook of my leg as I doze off on the sofa, in the rain that drenches me to the core as I walk home, reminding me I’m still here. It is in the laughter of two sisters who have seen it all, alone and together, and know that only she and I really truly can comprehend the pain, share the memories, and move forward. It is in the way he looks at me, the way he pulls his chair up next to mine after a meal to be close, in his invitation for a game of chess on the beach, in how I can recklessly say what’s in my heart yet not feel a fool. Once I thought I was broken. And now I realize that I was only bruised, because every time I feel love, I know that it’s all worthwhile. And so I keep taking those tiny steps, those massive leaps, those ways of testing myself and my heart to make sure I never forget to love.

“Verily you were near to me, to watch the strong boy-swallows carolling in sunset, to brighter day and though for night and ecstasy, to dream great dreams, you of my heart; to live great lives. You are the sunset. You are the long night of peace. And dawn is of you, a thrilling glory frightening stars.”

– ee cummings, from “Reverie”

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