My laptop died last week. My novel and many of my poems are backed up. But so much isn't. Maybe I will be able to retrieve and transfer my hard disc, but if not, the words and thoughts of the past four, five, years are left to dwell inside me, locked away. Good thing I know my body doesn't forget.
Whatever has been lost, so much that matters to me is here on my blog. My friend and the friend of many Renee used her blog in the last months and years of her life to be sure her family would have a history to remember her in her own words. I know my Jessica reads my blog though she rarely comments. I wonder if someday Mr. Ryan and Drew and Logan will read these posts and stare at my images and photos and know something more about their Gram-Bam.
What is it about this part of the year that invites memories and with them a sadness in looking back?
Years back I had a friend, more than a friend if truth be told, who I have now spent the last three years doing my best to remember in the way I loved her most; not in the way I too remember the worse of her. I knew there were parts that were not kind, that were intolerant and mean-spirited, but along with her wild creativity and passion I accepted those parts too. No doubt she accepted some of my not-so-great parts too. But now, from time I read or hear some of the things she has said about me and about our relationship, and I do not escape emotions I cannot find words for. I never expected in my life to be vilified by someone I loved and who loved me. I have to laugh abit as I write this because without loss and betrayal there would be not one country and western song to sing!
It was I who chose freely. The lessons are mine to learn. I ask myself if I would rather lament and feel the sadness as I do, than steel myself and never look back? I don't envy another's choice to do as they do. But this time of year, perhaps because she and I had a few Christmases together, I find myself wishing her well. Which is something that would disgust her. Which is something that will probably disgust the people who know the story and want to protect me. I don't know what that says about me, whether I show strength or weakness when I hope for the best. And you know what? I don't give a damn.
I've been deep in thought today. No car, no travels. After weeks of hussle bussle, here I am with myself, thinking back, thinking forward. I don't talk about this subject very much anymore and I write about it even less. But here I am, asking a benevolent universe to bless us all. Not just some: all. Even You with your eraser who dared to call Stella "someone's dog."love