It has to be done, whether I want to or not. And I have learned that, the more complicated one’s life, the greater the need.
So here, at the end of 2011, is why, and to whom and to what, I am saying goodbye:
1. A young woman in whom I was far too long and deeply invested, and re-invested, wanting to ignore a key feature that could never work for me or for us together. I loved her indisputably and dearly—she was, and is, so bright and pretty and funny—but we suffer a core, key, difference that I can never surpass. Mostly, lately, I seldom think about this loss, but today as I write this I feel sad, especially in the wake of Sarah’s death. We often grieve what we thought we could have; what we hoped for. And my grief is not exceptional.
2. A young woman I foisted onto Sarah…Sarah who appeased me and in whom I ought to have trusted. I have no feelings of loss in this woman, but am terribly sorry that I ever tried to change my daughter’s mind. I saw Sarah wrestle with so many egregiously painful truths in her final months, and I know, because she told me so, that ultimately the truth was more important to her than any enabling fiction. Still, I suffer on behalf of my girl, who knew all too well who had taken what from her, and why.
3. The fact that I am never going to be slim. I can and expect to lose weight, but slim is out of the question. Besides, mostly what that means now are face craters and globs of hanging cellulite. Still, I am sorry I waited so long.
4. Procrastination about finishing my novel. How many people have to die before I realize that deadlines are ever encroaching? Besides, I am eager to begin to write that book that Sarah asked me to; the one I have earned claim to.
5. My homophobia. I have been living with Mary for several years, and still I make jokes about my lesbian partner. While this might seem funny to some—even to Mary and me—there are wrong reasons why I do this (that have nothing to do with my family members…okay, my sister…who told me I was not to touch Mary in front of her or her adult children), and I had best get at the root of my fears and prejudices now...just as many of you have to.
6. Expecting blood from stones. In other words, really knowing I can’t always or even often or maybe ever make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.
7. Pepsi, which is already a few weeks (okay, mostly) gone.
8. Potato chips...ditto.
9. My %$#(*&)%$#@ fear of flying. Curses on that PEI pilot, stewed as I know he was loop de looping over the Northumberland Strait, the patchwork quilted crops cutting out at odd (all) angles. Paris awaits, and I have Don Ives’ broken cookies and red balloons to consider.
10. Resentment against people I don’t care enough about in the first place. I love that line that Carrie Fisher quotes: “Resentment is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” Really, though, have you ever noticed how much time we waste on people who mean next-to-nothing in our lives? Besides, I expect Sarah and her father to come from their place beyond this planet and get these ass***** once and for all—and if you think I’m kidding...guess again. (You can see I have to work on this one a little harder.) (Also: see #5.)
Anyway, maybe you are one of those rarely fortunate people who hasn’t anything or anyone of which or whom to let go. Sadly, this is not true for me. The one thing I have going for me, though, is that once I make up my mind, I am often successful...except for the pop and the chips part, which is why I gave them a head start.
My best wishes to you all (minus the few of you who read these entries for prurient reasons. To you few, as my friend Wilfred likes to say, “Piss on yaz all!”).
Happy New Year
