In exactly 13 days, the hundreds (maybe thousands?) of people who loved or even distantly admired Ron will have survived an entire year without him. It has been both the longest and shortest year of my life. So much has happened that I feel like I’m under the weight of decades, and yet, sometimes Ron crosses my mind or my dreams like he was just here yesterday, and I have to make a conscious effort to wrap my brain around the amount of time he’s been gone.
I haven’t written in months. In some ways, putting the negativity in my life to words felt like a solid outlet and a way to express anger before it boiled into utter rage. In other ways, the blogosphere became a part of the negativity in my life. I rehashed so much that didn’t require rehashing. I sought the blogs of people I could relate to, but came to the overwhelming realization that I wasn’t ready to absorb more sadness.
I do feel like I’m in a place where I need my outlet back (sans, perhaps, the open letters to my enemies), but I don’t feel like overwhelming myself or anyone else with grand displays of emotion right now. I want to come back tonight with a bit of lightheartedness. Not every moment of my life since Ron’s death is entirely without joy. Here are a few anonymous* (and perhaps slightly embellished, as I’m going off of memory alone) snippets of conversations or experiences I’ve had in the several months I’ve been absent.
Me: An attractive male just sat next to me at the airport.
Anon*: Get drunk and vomit in his lap. I once charmed a man with this move on a flight to Seattle. I mean, it’s worth a shot.
Me: Hahahaha omg if only I could drink.
Anon: Take a Seroquel and pass out on him. It’s fine. Improvise.
Me: …I’ll keep you posted. We’re not on the plane yet but I will be casually scoping out where he sits and then casually sitting next to him.
Anon: So casual. You should give a big exasperated sigh and say “Ughhhh fine, there are never any good seats. Looks like I will HAVE to sit here.” Then shoot him daggers.
Me: I will. And then I will make him move to the aisle seat before I sit “because I get airsick without a window” but really so that I can squeeze in front of him and he has no choice but to see how great my ass looks in these yoga tights. And then we will join the mile high club and he will fall in love with me but I’m a cold-hearted bitch so I’ll give him a wrong number and never talk to him again.
Anon: I mean, I’m just so proud. And I see you are writing a novella in your head. Very Bridget Jones. I want a wedding invite!
A list of “firsts” I experienced during my trip to Massachusetts:
- Hitting 90+ mph in a Prius
- Witnessing a friend get out of the car in a Dunkin’ Donuts drive-through wearing a robe and smoking a cigarette while ordering breakfast before a quick trip to the Dollar Store
- Calling an ambulance to said Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot after getting dressed up and putting full faces of makeup on “just in case the EMTs are cute” (they weren’t) (don’t try this at home) (unless you have excruciating migraines) (and a possible case of multiple life-threatening infectious diseases) (and maybe if your psychiatrist casually decides you’re having a heart attack and need immediate medical attention).
- A partial hospitalization intake meeting in a building that smelled like a hamster cage, thus, the infamous “therapy hamster” references
- Being baptized in the urine of a friend as she attempted to dump the Dunkin’ Donuts cup full of it out the window on the freeway
- Hitting Dunkin’ Donuts a minimum of 3 times a day, every day, for several weeks straight
- The realization that saging negative energy out of a home is not beneficial if the sage inspires an asthma-like allergy attack
- Also, the realization that Southwest is amazing and won’t put you on a no-fly list or even question you for cancelling/changing your flight 15 times in the span of 3 weeks
- The joy of meeting online friends in person, the heartbreak of saying goodbye, and the hope that knowing a new friendship is destined to last a lifetime brings.
To be continued…