Yesterday was my birthday!
It was wonderful, to say the least. Brody sang me this (which I would like to embed, but it will not let me) in a crowded pub in Cork, surrounded by our dearest friends from this side of the pond. I, of course, cried like a ridiculously gay man--but I was not alone in my tears.
Nic called and Charlie sang me "Happy Birthday" and agreed to come see us over Christmas. I told her I would do my best for Thanksgiving, my second favorite holiday.
Brody's Baby Grand also arrived yesterday--which was quite the cost from France--but he would not endure arguments about selling it and buying a new one. We ended the night--he on the bench, me in my chair--listening to soft songs. Oh, I am a sucker for the piano.
I must have drifted off, because I awoke this morning in bed. As an aside: It's kind of hot how strong he is, no? Hehehe.
We have moved up the wedding, for obvious reasons. So, if all goes well, I will spend December 25th--my least favorite day of the year--pledging my soul, before God and family, to Brody M. Collins. I chose the date; it has meaning I cannot really explain, to have something so happy and wonderful on a day that has, traditionally, been such a terrible experience for me.
Tiarnan is doing the service. He was there last night, too--which was a grand surprise.
They have told me to start, ah--well, it's just that the, uh--I have a difficult time writing this part. I am not certain how to phrase it. They tell me things will diminish quickly, now. I will falter and crumble, and then I will plateau--only to fall again. I admit, though pride would rather I didn't, that it's becoming more difficult to type, write--think the way I'd like. Words are a burden, but they may be the last burden I have to carry.
So they have told me, while I still can, while I think I should, that I might consider saying goodbye. Rather, they mention "making preparation" and "being fair" to family and friends, and I can see their logic. There are things I should say to people who probably need to hear them. There are things that some people probably want to say to me, though I don't give them many opportunities to do so.
There are also things I wish I had left to say--people I wish I still had something to say to. I feel like I should, at least, have a pithy farewell for them. But I don't. I said what I needed to, and I think they probably did, too, and so we are met with silence.
There are people I have not told whom I think, maybe, I should. But then I think of them and the last we spoke, and the steel doors ever since, and I think it's best to let them live their lives with me as a vague memory--which wouldn't be much different if I did approach them now, so why stir up that pain? Still, I am unsure. I suppose the other side is that, if told, would they even care? They did not appear to care when I first took ill or had my run-in with that coma, so why should they care now? And if they do care now, would it even be real? Would it be worth it? I have such positive, supportive, loving people around me; why take the chance to welcome in the negativity? I suppose my hesitation comes from what I perceive to be terrible misunderstandings that, now, will never be resolved. Shouldn't all our misunderstandings be fixed before we pass on?
There are people I love so much in this world that I haven't the faintest idea what to say to them. Meg, Brody, Nic--what do you give people who have always given you everything? What do you say that sounds more sincere than "I love you"?
Audrey once told me that a professor of hers told her never to begin a story with "There..." because it's unnecessary. I do not agree with that professor. In my head, it is necessary. There are things that simply need to be said, and there are not better ways to say them. Not in this circumstance.
And now I am rambling, which happens frequently now--especially when I try to talk. So I will end this, and I will end it on a positive note, because that's really what's most important and what's in my heart.
This was the best birthday I can remember having in a very, very long time. I have never been surrounded by such genuine, loving people, and I am grateful for the gift of every moment I can find to smile. And I am most grateful that there are so many of them--so, so many.
Nic called and Charlie sang me "Happy Birthday" and agreed to come see us over Christmas. I told her I would do my best for Thanksgiving, my second favorite holiday.
Brody's Baby Grand also arrived yesterday--which was quite the cost from France--but he would not endure arguments about selling it and buying a new one. We ended the night--he on the bench, me in my chair--listening to soft songs. Oh, I am a sucker for the piano.
I must have drifted off, because I awoke this morning in bed. As an aside: It's kind of hot how strong he is, no? Hehehe.
We have moved up the wedding, for obvious reasons. So, if all goes well, I will spend December 25th--my least favorite day of the year--pledging my soul, before God and family, to Brody M. Collins. I chose the date; it has meaning I cannot really explain, to have something so happy and wonderful on a day that has, traditionally, been such a terrible experience for me.
Tiarnan is doing the service. He was there last night, too--which was a grand surprise.
They have told me to start, ah--well, it's just that the, uh--I have a difficult time writing this part. I am not certain how to phrase it. They tell me things will diminish quickly, now. I will falter and crumble, and then I will plateau--only to fall again. I admit, though pride would rather I didn't, that it's becoming more difficult to type, write--think the way I'd like. Words are a burden, but they may be the last burden I have to carry.
So they have told me, while I still can, while I think I should, that I might consider saying goodbye. Rather, they mention "making preparation" and "being fair" to family and friends, and I can see their logic. There are things I should say to people who probably need to hear them. There are things that some people probably want to say to me, though I don't give them many opportunities to do so.
There are also things I wish I had left to say--people I wish I still had something to say to. I feel like I should, at least, have a pithy farewell for them. But I don't. I said what I needed to, and I think they probably did, too, and so we are met with silence.
There are people I have not told whom I think, maybe, I should. But then I think of them and the last we spoke, and the steel doors ever since, and I think it's best to let them live their lives with me as a vague memory--which wouldn't be much different if I did approach them now, so why stir up that pain? Still, I am unsure. I suppose the other side is that, if told, would they even care? They did not appear to care when I first took ill or had my run-in with that coma, so why should they care now? And if they do care now, would it even be real? Would it be worth it? I have such positive, supportive, loving people around me; why take the chance to welcome in the negativity? I suppose my hesitation comes from what I perceive to be terrible misunderstandings that, now, will never be resolved. Shouldn't all our misunderstandings be fixed before we pass on?
There are people I love so much in this world that I haven't the faintest idea what to say to them. Meg, Brody, Nic--what do you give people who have always given you everything? What do you say that sounds more sincere than "I love you"?
Audrey once told me that a professor of hers told her never to begin a story with "There..." because it's unnecessary. I do not agree with that professor. In my head, it is necessary. There are things that simply need to be said, and there are not better ways to say them. Not in this circumstance.
And now I am rambling, which happens frequently now--especially when I try to talk. So I will end this, and I will end it on a positive note, because that's really what's most important and what's in my heart.
This was the best birthday I can remember having in a very, very long time. I have never been surrounded by such genuine, loving people, and I am grateful for the gift of every moment I can find to smile. And I am most grateful that there are so many of them--so, so many.