8.21.2006

Sunday, August 20, 2006 - midnight

I had a really good day today. Yesterday sucked. All around suck. I was “in it.” (Anyone seen Garden State?). Fortunately Sash and Dee came over and we had a great talk and lots of crying.

But today was better. Went shopping with the boy (“Shop-pING,” as he says), ate some lunch, went for a great walk, played outside, had a nap while he napped… And then, tonight, I decided to go to a party. I was shocked that I wanted to go, but I did. At the last minute I decided to go. Michelle’s sweet daughter came over and watched the sleeping baxman and I got a few hours out.

It was a get together at the house of someone who I don’t even know that well, but who I know tangentially through the theater scene. I so appreciated the invitation. He called several days ago to tell me about it and I told him I wasn’t sure if I’d make it but that I was so thankful that he had thought to ask me. And that’s the truth. A lot of people – particularly those who don’t know me too well – almost seem afraid of me. Not really afraid of me, but afraid of how uncomfortable they are with the whole freaking thing. I think what people often forget is that even though this shitty situation is mine, it’s not like I’m an expert. It’s not like I’m comfortable with it myself, or have expectations of what folks should say or how they should act. What I appreciate most is people just saying candidly, “I don’t even know what to say to you. This is just so weird and fucked up.” That is the truth. And there really is nothing much to say. But just saying anything is helpful. More helpful than distance and silence, that’s for sure.

Anyway, I went to the party, not knowing if I would know anyone there. I did know a couple of people. But I spent much of the night chatting with folks I didn’t know. People who didn’t know my story, but were just fun and smart and witty and friendly. It was such a breath of fresh air. And yes, I carry the weight of this shit everywhere. But it was different to feel like it was mine alone and not out there for everyone to talk around.

I left feeling proud of myself. Weird word, I know. “Proud?” But I think that’s how I felt. Like Mike would be so glad that I went. And that I was glad that even though I can be a cautious person, I force myself out of my comfort zone when I know it’s in my best interest.

I did have a sharp pain of sadness on my way home while getting on 676. I heard the words that Mike would always say whenever we were on our way home from Comedysportz or a party of gathering, “The best part is, I get to go home with you.”

And while it may seem oddly Oedipal, I thought for a moment that while I don’t get to go home with Michael, I do get to return home to Baxter. And the joy I get from picturing his sleeping little body in his crib makes it all a bit more bearable.

2 comments:

annie said...

Hey. I got to your site via a friend, and I just needed to thank you for your courage and honesty to share all of this. I recently lost my step-mom who was like my mom, and can't tell you how reading your story is so painful yet oddly comforting. I blogged about it too. I lost her the day I got back from my honeymoon so there is this odd crazy mix of wedding and funeral that is super fucked up. And now almost 8 months later, there is this pressure to be over it all, and then when I'm in The Gap and I see a shirt she would like, I lose my shit so hard I can barely breathe. Or when I look at a wedding picture I just know what was right around the corner.

But your posting of the love you and Mike shared is reminding me of the love I'm not giving out. So thank you again.

Someone said to me: "it's gonna be ok. Just not yet."

So just not yet.

nicole rodgers said...

hi danna,

air china just cancelled my flight back from mongolia, so after all the planning, i will not be back in time for mike's celebration. i love you and i'll be thinking of you, and sending my hugs and kisses in absentia....

xo,
nicole