Tag: goodbye

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personal

Leaving holes in our lives that cannot be filled

As Happy as I could be

Him: (after meeting the Firecracker) You have a type.
Me: (shrugging) It’s not so much that as there are certain traits in a partner that I value. And the partner that I would pick to be my “until-death-do-you-part” partner would have the most of those things because I value those things.

The Firecracker isn’t Alison, but they have a lot in common – far beyond both being blondes with coloured eyes.

This shouldn’t be surprising because I seek certain things, just like everyone else does.

For example, they’re both female, which makes sense, as I like females. They’re both unwaveringly kind. They both liked that I cooked and I liked that they both cleaned.

Etc. Etc.

I’ve always said that we spend our lives looking for our tribes.

Who’s the ultimate example of your tribe if not your partner?

And if your partner isn’t the ultimate example of your tribe, why isn’t s/he, and why would you be with her/him then?

Firecracker: Are you happy?
Me: (thinking) Yes. But it’s complex.

This fella named Oliver Sacks once said:

When people die they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate – the genetic and neural fate – of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.

Yeah.

And when someone leaves your Venn diagram, they take with them that unique space in your life that only he or she coulda occupied.

So, I have a hole in my soul the shape of my dad that was carved out once he died.

Just like I have one in the shape of my grandmother.

But the largest hole is that of Alison. It’s still there, as are the others.

That’s not changed. It never will.

After all, grief is the price we pay for wonderful things.

My father, Alison, my grandmother – they were all my wonderful things.

So, when the Firecracker asks me something like, “Are you happy?” The answer is yes.

But, imagine that you lost your left arm seven years ago. And in those seven years, beautiful and terrible things happened, because, that’s how life is.

Assume that you’re lucky and the beautiful things far outnumber the terrible things.

I’d assume you’d be happy.

But you’ll never be as happy as you would have been if you got a chance to enjoy those wonderful things AND still have your left arm.

Except, it’s not just your left arm. It’s your right hand as well.

And other bits and pieces of your body soul.

As happy as you could possibly be, you’ll never be as happy as you could have been sine qua non/but for the losses.

That’s the truest answer for the Firecracker’s question and it’s something that I’m acutely aware of for my son.

Because, as happy as he’ll be, as good as a parent as I could possibly be, he’ll forever miss having his mother raise and love him.

He’ll forever be missing something most people, myself included, take for granted.

And my heart aches as to the truth of that statement.

It’s why Mother’s Day/Alison’s birthday is such hell for both of us.

Note that the same is true for the Firecracker.

Because we met after she’s lived decades of her life and the purpose of life is to wear you down.

She too has injuries that she bears so that, as happy as she might be with me, those injuries remain. But that’s her story to tell.

I know that I can make the years the Firecracker and I have together as happy as I can.

But I also know that there are things that I can’t do because we all have those holes in our souls in the shape of the people and things we’ve loved and lost.

I like to think that, it’s not so much that I’ll die one day, so much as it is that I’ll have so many holes in my soul that, one day, they’ll be too many for me to go on.

I’m 39 in this picture above and the main one.

My friend Nadi took them while we were having dinner one night.

Life was perfect at that moment.

At that moment: My clients are awesome, and my career is taking off. My dad is alive. I’m happy and laughing with friends. And she’s alive and we’re about to start a family. Three kids. Suburbs.

Alla that.

A year after that picture: Alison and I lost our first pregnancy. It was the start of a winter of sadness and pain that I wouldn’t have believed possible for anyone to survive.

Nonea that.

But, in that moment, I was happy because I didn’t know how fucked up life could – and would – become.

Man, the lucky never realize they are lucky until it’s too late.

I’m realizing how lucky – at least right now – I am.

And I’m grateful to the Firecracker and the kid for making me feel lucky again.

It’s been such a long time.

Me: But I’m as happy as I could possibly be right now. I have no capacity to be any happier.
Her: Ok, I’ll take that.

Location: A dark bullet bar with some new friends and good stories
Mood: lucky happy
Music: It’s gotta drive you crazy, how you keep it all inside (Spotify)
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Travelogue: Taiwan 2025, pt 4 – Grand Hotel, Shilin, and Home

And then we went home

The next day, we took the bullet train back to Taipei for our last full day in Taiwan.

The Firecracker’s kid is into trains, so we stopped off at a train museum for him first and then headed back to our hotel to crash.

Unfortunately, this was our first dud hotel outta the four we stayed at because they were doing construction on the floor above us.

Me: Welp, I guess we should go check out the Grand Hotel then.

The Grand Hotel Was the one tourist attraction that the Firecracker really wanted to see before we left, so we grabbed a car there.

She was not disappointed.

It’s the showcase hotel of Taiwan, built in 1952 to resemble a Chinese palace and meant to impress foreign dignitaries.

It certainly impressed us.

I’d actually gone to a summer program in the valley below it in my 20s but never went inside myself.

Afterward, we went to the night market that I was most looking forward to seeing, the Shilin Night Market, which is the one that I spent the most time at in my 20s.

In a stroke of good luck and coincidence, my other cousins on my mom’s side just happened to be in town with my aunt.

They’re the kids of my uncle that passed from COVID a few years back in Jersey, so it was doubly good to see everyone.

We met up with them at a bar there and my aunt gave us all red envelopes to celebrate both our being there and our getting married.

Me: That’s so generous of you, thanks so much!
Her: Of course, we’re just glad we can all be here.

We ate pretty much everything in sight.

I ended up having to use the facilities and went into the mall area where a scantily clad woman called out to me in English, “Hi, Mister – are you feeling lucky!?”

I’m fairly confident this was in reference to some carnival games she was hawking.

Firecracker: She said what?!
Me: “Hi, Mister – are you feeling lucky!?” Now the thing is, why would she say that to me in English? Like, you weren’t there, how did she know that I wasn’t Chinese-Chinese?
Her: Did you talk to her?!
Me: I’m not crazy, baby!
Her: Smart man, smart man…

Do have to say, found that interesting throughout the whole trip: People would automatically try to speak English to me, even if the kids and the Firecracker weren’t with me.

I have to think it was how I was dressed?

Never did figure that out.

In any case, after we couldn’t possibly eat anything else, we all went our separate ways; we just hit our hotel and crashed hard.

The next morning, after filling up on brekkie – we made our way to the airport.

It was actually the first time I took the new railway from Taipei to the airport.

It was great because I got to see more parts of Taipei/Taiwan that I’d not seen before.

This pic really does capture the place – so much development, all happening at once, with urbanization creeping into the mountains and natures I’m familiar with.

The trip back was much better than the trip there.

Once again, we stopped off in Korea, but this time, I remembered a lot more of it.

And the kid finally got to see a 3D billboard – something he’d been wanting to see the entire trip.

Everyone managed to fall asleep on the plane ride back.

Everyone but me that is.

Actually, I might’ve as well but I’m not completely sure. My mind gets fuzzy when I travel.

The kid just tossed a sheet over his head and called it a night – he takes after his mom and my dad and can sleep anywhere.

Once we landed in NYC, the Firecracker had to bring her kid to her ex’s, so my kid and I took a cab home.

It was an even C-note to get back to our pad from JFK, which was both surprising and also, not.

Me: Welp, it looks like we’re home. What are you in the mood for?
Him: Pizza?
Me: Done. Welcome back home, kiddo.
Him: Welcome back home, papa. That was fun. But it’s nice to be home.
Me: Yeah, kid. There’s no place like home.

Location: a holiday party, next door
Mood: brrrrrrrrrrrr
Music: my own dreams and the city won’t save me (Spotify)
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So long and so completely

Happy birthday, mom

Two big things happened recently. The first was awful.

Saw a good buddy of mine the other day and he looked…off.

So, I asked him what was up. His wife answered for him.

His mother died this past Friday.

Instantly, I thought of my dad and my mom, and – of course – Alison.

When I lost my grandmother all those years ago, it was the first close loss I’d ever had.

The losses never stopped once it started.

That’s how it goes for everyone.

But no one’s really prepared for the loss of a parent, to say nothing of the loss of a spouse.

My dad said it himself when his own mom died, long after his own dad died:

I feel unmoored from my past, like a leaf in the wind or a ship on the waves.

Lines I stole from him years ago.

In any case, I took my buddy out for a drink over the weekend and just heard his (and his mom’s) story, which I’ll end here because it’s not mine to tell.

Me: This is why alcohol was invented, man.

The second was the opposite.

My own mom turned a milestone birthday, one that I’m grateful she was able to reach.

My sister came up with the brilliant plan to have many of our relatives from all over – including Taiwan – to video call her at the same time and wish her well.

As an aside, I usually put up pictures that don’t include my kid sister and only include my brother and me because, by the time she was born, I was already a fatty-fat-fat.

Anywho, getting back to my mom and the video call, she’s not one for pomp and circumstance but I could tell she was touched by the gesture.

I know that, at some point, I will have to go through what my buddy is going through and I’m not – at all – prepared for it.

Don’t think we’re ever prepared to say goodbye to the people we’ve loved so long and so completely.

Ok, that’s my sister when she came home from the hospital. I can put pics of her up so long as I’m not in them.

When I think of my mom, the faces you see above is the face I always see in my head when I think of her.

She’ll always be that young and beautiful to me.

I wish everyone we love can always stay.

Doubt that I’m alone in this.

But that’s not the deal, and we have to accept it, however hard it is.

Me: Even I have to go someday.
Him: But…what if you don’t, papa?
Me: That’s the deal, kid. We all have to go at some point so someone else gets a chance.
Him: (hopefully) But maybe it’ll be different for you.
Me: (laughing) Ok, kid. Maybe. We’ll just have to wait and see. Go do your math.

Happy birthday, mom.

Location: In the rain, picking up my treasure
Mood: nauseated
Music: seen it all the tears have fallen (Spotify)
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Goodnight, Peter

He was my friend and I’ll miss him

Her: What are you writing about?
Me: Peter.
Her: Oh, did you know him well enough to write about him?
Me: Well, his life is his story to tell. I’m just gonna write about my life and his role in it.

Pausing the usual nuthin again.

Almost exactly 17 years ago, I wrote about my buddy Mike, who was a regular in my kali class.

Older fella, I still remember that Mike had a six-pack at 65+.

Mike was the first guy that I knew as a friend that died.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the last.

Mike died before social media so I’ve forgotten what he looks like.

But he was my friend, and I miss him.

Peter Moretti was like Mike in that he would always come to class and be a bit confused and not get certain moves because, like Mike, he was older.

But he never stopped coming and never stopped trying to be better.

This is him just a few days before he died.

His dedication, plus his incredibly easy-going and kind nature, was how I always saw him.

His Facebook feed was/is fulla things like him feeding birds like woodpeckers and ducks.

After knowing Peter a few years, I found that he was a karate instructor and fighter who could do things that I only dreamed about being able to do.

In fact, he just posted a buncha photos of himself as a young man two days before he died.

 I realize now that Mike and Peter are essentially me.

They were both skilled and dangerous fighters that were once in peak physical shape.

But time takes its toll on alla us.

I figure that, in a few years, I’ll be the guy that people have to help with certain moves or things.

And they too will be surprised that I was once anything but an older fella.

In any case, I just saw Peter maybe two weeks ago. I worked with him some.

We weren’t close, at all, but we got along well.

He died in his sleep and left a buncha people that loved him and will miss him.

That’s a good way to go, if you’ve gotta go, I say.

Goodnight, Peter.

You’ve worked hard enough, and you’ve earned your rest.

Her: You don’t want to make his death about you.
Me: I get that, but I also don’t ever feel right telling someone else’s story.
Her: That’s true.
Me: It’s a delicate balance. I suppose the main point is that the people in our lives are part of the fabric of it and Peter was a part of mine. I’ll never see him again and he was someone that I always liked seeing.

Location: last night, the surgeon’s, drinking up a ton of rum
Mood: wistful
Music: You’ll have to learn, just like me and that’s the hardest way (Spotify)
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For sale: Family clothes, never worn

The purposes of this conversation

There’s a cool little subgenre of writing called flash fiction, where people try to write impactful stories with only a handful of words.

The most famous one is a short six-word story that’s frequently attributed to Ernest Hemingway, which goes:

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

There’s so much sadness, pain, and loss in just six words.

Thought about that the other day as I cleaned out some more of Alison’s things.

Every year or so, I toss some things of hers that I finally make peace with.

In this latest episode, found three shirts that Alison and I were excited to wear one day; grey shirts with a graphic of a black bear on the chest, each one with a single word on the bear:

Papa
Mama
Baby

Think we got them as a gift. Don’t remember.

We never got to try them on.

Everything went to shit too fast.

The Firecracker, because she saw how distressed I was and is just awesome, gave them away for me.

I was in my head all day and all night.

Alison never got to wear anything like that.

I never got to wear anything like that.

And now, we never will.

Her: Are you ok?
Me: For the purposes of this conversation, I’ll say I am.
Her: But you’re not?
Me: (deep breath) For the purposes of this conversation, I’ll say I am. I just need a sec.
Her: (nodding) I’ll take care of these this for you and drop them off at Goodwill.
Me: Thank you.

Location: the basement of my brain (again)
Mood: waiting to be okay (again)
Music: This feeling never leaves me (Spotify)
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November Rain

Just happy to be invited

I write about my college friends with regularity here and have since the very beginning.

We don’t actually see each other as a group all that often – much more often one-on-one – but we all come together when we can.

And when we must.

We chipped in for flowers.

I hate funerals.

Never went to Alison’s and barely survived my dad’s.

But, as the years go on, I find myself at them more and more often.

One of our core group’s parents passed away the other day.

Him: Can you make it?
Me: Of course I’ll be there.

So, we all met up and went to the funeral together.

One guy drove in all the way from Virginia just to pay his respects.

After a spell, we stepped out to get a drink…

…before heading out for food.

The details aren’t in my story to tell, so lemme pivot and just tell you that I count myself quite lucky that I have these people in my life.

You never really think of the value of good friends when you’re a kid and only realize it when the time comes to need good friends.

Him: Logan – always thinking of food.
Me: This is, sadly, so very true.

I have a running joke with the fellas where, no matter how many times I’m invited out, I always say, “I’m finally invited to something!”

Been doing that for over 30 years with them but the reason I say that is that I’m genuinely always happy to just be included.

As a kid growing up with zero friends, it’s nice that to belong somewhere.

What is life if not looking for where we belong? Who our tribes are?

And the tribe always shows up when needed.

Couldn’t stay the whole night because I had to get the kid from a school event, but it was so good seeing everyone, despite the circumstances.

Me: (to buddy that came from Virginia) You gotta come up more often than once every 20 years.
Him: I’ll come back.
Me: Yeah, please. Under much better circumstances.

Location: earlier today, a tenant’s apartment on the second floor, trying to figure out if I needed to bleed the radiator
Mood: grateful
Music: We’ve been through this such a long long time, just tryin’ to kill the pain (Spotify)
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Thanks, Kymberly!

I’ve decided to be happy

Me: I just wanted to say thank you for working with me for this past year.
Therapist: Logan! You think we’ve only been talking for a year? You mentioned looking forward to your date with the Firecracker, and that was at least 20 months ago.
Me: I cannot be trusted with things related to time these days.

I had my first therapy session with my therapist, Kymberly, on 2021.06.03.

She was the third regular therapist I had but the one that I’ve seen the longest and most consistently.

That’s for a buncha reasons: On the practical side, my insurance covered alla it and I could do alla my sessions at home on Zoom.

On the personal side, I knew I needed to talk to a professional, but I suppose that I didn’t realize just how much I needed to talk to one.

The first few sessions were not great as I was pretty belligerent, but she stuck with me and I her.

As time passed, I began to notice that I was less angry – still angry, just less so.

Me: There’s this joke I heard once where a man says to the other, “What would you say if I gave you a million dollars but only on the condition that the person you hate most gets two million?” And the second man replies, “Of course, why wouldn’t I want three million dollars?”
Her: You hate yourself?
Me: More than anyone, sometimes. (thinking) It’s a good joke, though.

Chad once said he felt that I was clinging on to a wrong relationship with a death grip because I’d lost so much already and was loathe to lose anything else.

Think that was the most accurate and sage thing he ever said.

With the passage of time, and Kymberly’s help, I was able to accept my new reality, though.

Me: Losing Alison and my dad was a bit like losing a leg. I know I’ll never be complete again, and I’ll always remember the days when I had them both here as my happiest. I know I can be happy again, I just also know that it won’t be the same because I will never be the same.
Her: But this version of Logan can be happy, can’t he? Maybe not the same as before, different, but still good?
Me: I suppose that’s the hope.

Unfortunately, she’s moving to a different office and one that doesn’t take my insurance. So, we have to part ways, at least for now.

She was a good therapist – and I’m well enough now, a good deal thanks to her, that I’m not in a rush to replace her.

Thanks, doc.

I’m feeling much better now.

Her: I like that analogy of your losing a leg. But, I think you can be happy again. If you’re nicer to yourself.
Me: I’ll try. It’s not easy, but I’m gonna try. I’ll never be happy like I was when Alison and my dad were still alive. But…it’d be nice to be happy again.

Every so often, I’ll hear a song, and it’ll feel as if it was written just for me.

To wit, here’s a song called Decide to be Happy by a band called Misterwives.

There are several lines that I feel I’ve said here myself in some manner or another:

Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body.  I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry.

Got to decide to be happy ‘Cause it don’t always come naturally.

I particularly really like this line:

I’ve been down on my knees, prayin’ things I don’t believe

…because I’ve been on my knees so much since you’ve known me.

You know what?

Here’s the whole song and alla the lyrics – it’s worth a listen, I think.

Music, it saved me
But it drives me crazy
‘Cause it forces my eyes, to take a look and see
Got to decide to be happy
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally
Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body
I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry (I’m sorry)
Got to decide to be happy (happy)
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally

‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain

I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy

My mind, it can be a scary place at times
So I hide under my bed and close all the blinds
And I cry (and I cry)
And I cry (and I cry)
Waste the day away, so I turn on the lights
And I search for a sign or a rhyme or a reason
Why I’m unsteady as the seasons

‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain

I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy

If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
Well now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance
(Now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance)

I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy

Location: not where you might expect; a tiny room with the kid practically on top of me
Mood: soooooooooo sick – you would not believe how sick I am
Music: I decide to be happy (Spotify)
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Tigers with different stripes, Pt 2

The best five days of my life

The other thing about my dad/family was something else that I also learned in Cornell: When I took my first Chinese language class, the teacher asked how to say “maternal grandmother” in Chinese.

I confidently said, “阿婆 (ā pó)” but was corrected, it was “外婆 (wàipó).”

I’d never heard of 外婆 (wàipó) before, we never used that term nor had I ever heard it before.

Me: I was so embarrassed that I got that wrong. Why didn’t we use the right way of saying it for [mom’s mom]?
Father: Do you know what 外婆 means? It means “outside grandmother.” That’s what you call the wife’s mother because, in Chinese culture, the mother’s family and side doesn’t count – they’re outsiders and not really part of the family. That’s wrong, I think, and offensive. Your mom’s family is as much a part of our family as mine is.

For all my dad’s traditions and pressure, he was a decent and fair man and that story perfectly encapsulates him.

It was a simple but profound thing, which makes sense as he was both a simple and profound man.

And I think that a major reason the three of us – my sister, brother, and myself – have been so successful in life.

Moreso than the education and the accolates.

Because I suppose we always knew that, no matter what, our parents loved us and always would.

That’s a powerful comfort in an uncomfortable world and something that I hope I give my own kid.

Yeah, if there’s one thing that I’d like to pass on from my dad to my own kid, it’s that.

My dad died August 24th, 2017, seven years ago this week.

I love him every bit right now as I did seven years ago and always will.

Even though, at times, I wonder if he knew.

Me: (angrily) Yeah, well, you wait. My kid is gonna be successful and happy. It won’t matter to me if he goes to an ivy league or not.
Him: You’re threatening me with a happy and successful grandkid? (laughing) Go ahead. Because that’s exactly what I want too. When you’re a dad yourself, you’ll understand. I’m trying to keep you all safe.

And, of course, I totally care if he makes it into an ivy league or not.

Just maybe – maybe – not quite as much.

Did you know that no two tigers have the same stripes?

A tiger’s pattern is as unique as human fingerprints AND not only is a tiger’s fur striped, but its skin is also striped as well.

It has hidden beauties you wouldn’t know about while it was alive.

This also means that every tiger is different from every other tiger, despite all outward appearances.

My dad may have been Chinese, but he was so different in many ways and uniquely mine.

I wish he was still here.

But I suppose you already knew that.

The picture above is the day my parents met my son.

It’s one of only a handful of pictures I have with all three of them.

The main picture is another of the few – precious – images I have of my father with my son.

I have none with him, Alison, and my son. Zero fucking pictures.

Not a single goddamn one.

And everything went to shit after that picture.

But, for a moment in time, that was the happiest I ever was because my entire family was alive and happy for five days.

I didn’t yet know that would be all I would ever get. Ever.

Those were the best five days of my life.

What a shitty truth it is that the lucky never realize they are lucky until it’s too late. 

Location: yesterday and today, bars. Drinking it all away.
Mood: cautious
Music: I’ve got memories and travel like gypsies in the night (Spotify)
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Goodnight Ms. Binnie Meltzer

I’m sorry I never told you

In the red bag that my mom brought to me while I was in Flushing was my Junior High School yearbook, that my sister found and told her to get to me.

The reason I was thrilled to get it was for one reason and one reason alone – I wanted to figure out the name of my English teacher.

See, the most influential teacher I had was a Ms. Meltzer and for years I always meant to find her and let her know that, but life got in the way.

Plus, I had no idea what her first name was.

But with the yearbook, I immediately looked for her and was disappointed to find that it only had her first initial was “B” and that led me – well, really, the Firecracker to a search and we found “Binnie Meltzer’s” obituary.

I’m certain it was her.

It made me both happy and sad; happy in that I found her, in a manner of speaking, and – of course – sad that I was too late.

She died in 2006. A lifetime ago.

She was the first teacher that I was always happy to see and that made me think that I had any type of talent for anything at all.

If she was still alive, I woulda told her what a profound and positive influence she was on me – I write because she told me once that I was a good writer and I believed her.

That’s the power of a good teacher.

Goodnight, Ms. Meltzer.

You were an amazing teacher and human, and I’m forever grateful we met.

On a much more mundane note, because of alla my injuries, my sleep’s been crap lately, so the Firecracker suggested that I get some nature – well, as much nature as NYC provides.

To that end, we had a little picnic in Central Park near Sheep’s Meadow, which was pretty great, I gotta say.

Her: Honestly, this is all I really need. My person, a picnic, a park, and my pup.
Me: I could do without onea those things.
Her: Oh, stop…

Location: supermarket for tea, which I forgot to buy despite it being WHY I WENT IN THE FIRST PLACE
Mood: annoyed at myself
Music: I got an open mind so, tell me where you wanna go (Spotify)
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Categories
personal

Goodnight, Olivia

Running outta time

Years ago, I met this sweet, funny, very pretty girl who was just a bit too young for me.

But we got along really well and kept in touch here and there.

She was the girl I mentioned to you here.

The last time we spoke, we said we’d have a playdate with our kids but then life got into the way.

Life always seems to get in the way.

Found out via social media that she just died.

So, like with my friends Bobby and Kirk, Alison, and my dad, I thought Olivia and I would have enough time in life to see each other again.

I’m always so wrong.

We weren’t super close, so I don’t have any details beyond what was listed in her obituary.

So, I’ll be mostly back to normal soon, but her family doesn’t have that luxury.

I have some ideas what happened based on our last conversation, but I suppose that’s between her and me.

It hit me hard, though. Sat down after I read it. It took my breath away.

She was so young; she was a teen when we met and only 36 when she died. Like Alison.

And like Alison, she left a little kid behind, except this kid not only loved her mom, she knew – really knew – her mom.

Dunno which kid is in a worse position, actually.

But I suppose that’s irrelevant at this point.

Goodnight, Olivia.

Everything is so unfair, and I’m so sorry for that.

I wish you could have stayed.

I was 34 in this picture. She was only 36 when she died.

Location: my head, remembering my possible pasts
Mood: gutted
Music: Let’s hit the road, friend of mine, wave goodbye to our thankless jobs (Spotify)
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