When I thought about reflecting on this past year, I thought I would be thinking and contemplating about what an epic year this was.
I thought it’d be about all the lovely crazy adventures. How even though I’m terrified of planes, and I’ve only just begun to wean myself from needing some sort of anxiety easing medication to step on plane and stop myself from praying to all that is holy that my plane is not going to crash in a fireball — that I jumped out of a plane and went skydiving, twice. How I finally quit smoking. How my amazing co-workers forced me to meet my horse-riding
crush idol while they streamed it live. (Thanks, Horse Network). How because of my niece, my heart grows. How I see the world differently because of her. How I want the world to be better. How I want to be better for her.
How my epic Mexico trip taught me – not having a phone for 10 days (yes, I know how privileged that makes me for that even being an “issue”. And how fucked up that is even a thing worth writing about) gave me the space to slow down, check out, and just do whatever I felt like whenever my body told me to. I didn’t try to capture the moment, I didn’t have anything to distract me. I took long walks. I danced my heart out. I read for hours. I started the winter solstice at sunrise doing 100 sun salutations on the beach. How I went parasailing. And with a crazy partner in crime, learned that with enough tequila you can convince your boat operator to let you parasail, upside down and drop from a crazy height. Even though said adventure was ill-advised and cost me my iPhone I’d do it all again.
I thought I’d be talking about all the wonderful moments of this year. And how I’m starting a new amazing chapter with a new job come January 2nd. (Woohoo!) But that is not what I’m going to write about.
I’m writing about Josie. I would not be the person I am today if I had not met him. If I had not dated him. If I had not lived with him. Even after all the stupid shit, we did to each other, like you do when you fall in love in your 20s, we were friends. But that is what I’m thinking about, because, while I was in Mexico, he passed away. That’s the first time I’ve written those words. And it still doesn’t feel real.
It shouldn’t be this hard. We had drifted apart the past few of years. We got busy. We lived in different time zones. All the usual life things where phone calls get less frequent happened. Sure we’d catch up a couple times a year but he wasn’t in my life daily. So I find myself surprised by how sad I feel. But in so many ways he still was in my life and will continue to be. Continue reading