It’s morning, four or five of us seated on
stools s Tina’s
And, oh my god, do we have to always endure this over breakfast?? She has her arms looped around Chico’s shoulders, in the middle of a squeaky cheek kiss. My spoon hovers between my mouth and the bowl—the wooden kind made up of pressed squares.
Anyway, so we’re choking down breakfast, right? My mom’s smooching my dad while he sips his coffee with a smug look and one eyebrow raised. There’s an empty milk carton on the counter and boxes of Raisin Bran and Grapenuts.
Aaaand apple juice. Because SOMEone will have to compromise. We’re out of milk again. So someone will HAVE to compromise. Compromise is normal in a family this large, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Where was I? Ah, yeah...Tina’s kiss is causing the hairs in my inner ear to rattle, which is comfy, am I right? Chana or Haydon mutters “disgusting” under their breath. And I’m thinkin, true love kinda is, ya know? I mean, am I right?
1/ 3 / 2 love
I/love/ you you,
I exhale at the memory. Allowing my shoulders to drop and the center of my being to unfurl, uncurl, unwind. Allowing peace to mingle with the heartache—bitter, yet sweet. Allowing gratitude for the TMI love sessions/ love lessons of Tina and Chico.
It was 25 years yesterday.
How long is too long to grieve? How long is too long to call his name and wish he’d answer? How long is too long to look for pictures of him I haven’t seen yet? How long is too long to miss someone taken too soon? HOW LONG???
I am...at a loss. I am lost. I have no compass, no direction, no anchor, no sail. But the wind... The wind brings him back to me, his ashes coating my skin.
Which is beautiful, ya know? His blood’s in my veins, flowing through my broken heart, right...? And it was almost like he came back to give me one last hug. Anyway. So yeah, it’s been 25 years. But, whatever.