by essayan hart
i am drawn out, across continents. across nations. the passing of a 29 year old friend, struck down so quickly by cancer, despite her apparently vital health and deep grounding in self care. the mother of my high school boyfriend, telling me in writing that no one will talk about his suicide. my mother in a wheelchair.
in contrast, the deepening of my connection to life, to the earth. the teachers who keep dragging me by the neck back home to
g-d. the friendships that carry me. on friday night we had a party to celebrate my life and transformations. i watched as my oldest friend hugged a spirit-mate of mine, meeting for the first time, with open arms. i sat on the front steps, after the guests had gone, chatted with my lifelong love about the way things are.
my ex is calling me on the phone. since the bike accident he’s been laid up, broker by the minute, lawsuits unsettled, bills unpaid. his family is mostly absent, but his sister is carrying the torch, a little love burning in its own chaos a few states east. my heart is tired, but i listen anyway, worry about the homework i need to get done, and about the heartache sinking in. first he tells me that meghan is gone, then after walking me through his own wasteland, he asks about my mother.
it is good that we can talk about these things, but the night is short and i need to turn off the television, get down to the business of learning. the heartache is loud. i sit down to play the song my newest friend shared with me today, start to fill out lyrics, and the melody sounds melancholy, but it holds me upright, like a sail.
blessings, all around me. suzi is alive against all odds, and i am still sober, ten years after the fall. i am still kicking. i want to know what it feels like to be at peace inside, but i am starting to think that as we get older it only get more complex. the more people you know and love, the more common tragedy becomes. blessings and curses, these ever expanding hearts.
nico is taking meghan’s death harder than i can. neither of us was very close to her. we met, and spent a week drowning in love and laughter at her home on the east coast. i hadn’t spoken with her since then. there is love, but not a love i depended on, just the love of a fellow traveller. nico takes everything to his depths. i am trying to remain placid. slow rolling waves of loss, of change. i surf. i stand.
sunday i will go surfing again, in real time, feel the ocean humble my body. i need that, i need to get back into my body. back into the simplest space possible. im sneezing. there are hundreds of pages to read, and i don’t want to begin. i start by breathing, ask my body what she needs to make peace for the night. the answer is too quiet, vanishing beneath the hum of the heater, the ringing of the phone.
__________ a few hours later i have to accept that i am not as strong around meghan’s death as i imagined i was. grief crept in, and im losing a night to tears. be at peace, brave friend.