There’s a spot inside that feels unfamiliar. Is this what loneliness feels like? I am a stranger to loneliness. Make no mistake. I am the luckiest person alive. I am surrounded by many people who love me. I always have been. I am the oldest of six. And until very recently, this stranger didn’t exist. Sometimes it sneaks up on me. Like today. I’ve been house/dog/teen-sitting for Misti while she is on her honeymoon in Australia. My 15-year-old niece, Jessica has been entertaining, agreeable and just plain sweet. Much better than I was at 15. Oh boy.
Jessica loves the Rent soundtrack and there’s that song. Seasons of Love. Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. How do you measure a day in the life? The one that usually gets me is by “cups of coffee”. He drank coffee like I drink water. He always had a cup in his hand and his “Jelly Jug” filled with coffee, sugar — a lot of sugar — and non-dairy creamer, beside him in the truck. When we were together in Iowa, he would start looking for a place to find a cup no sooner than he had just gotten one.
How do you measure a life? By the way that he died. That’s how it sneaked up on me today. It’s been one month since he died. I didn’t even realize it until I heard the words.
I can’t remember crying that way. I have never made those sounds before. Who is this stranger inside me?
I still feel lucky. I know I am. But once in a while . . . I guess this stranger is a part of me now. A new part. This sadness too, makes me who I am.
