Well 2019, I’m not quite sure I like you. We’ve gotten off to a tumultuous start. While I wish I could say it’s because of the lack of NYE smooches, it’s much less trivial than that. I landed back in Los Angeles to find out that my best friend’s mom passed away suddenly in the middle of the night. I can’t express enough how much I hate that for her. There is something so powerful in love that your heart can actually crack for someone else. Love is armor. Love protects. When tragedy strikes, the people you love will be there. They hold you together when you feel like you’re falling apart. They remind you of who you are when you’ve forgotten. Perhaps that is why I’m such a diehard advocate of love. Maybe the penniless sitar player from Moulin Rouge was right because at the end of the day, love will lift you up where you belong.
I hate the helplessness and utter lack of speech that come with death. I am a woman of words and even I can’t string together anything that comes close to relieving the pain and heartache of loss. It’s as if someone has stolen my voice box and shaken all of the thoughts in my mind and I’ve forgotten how to construct a simple sentence. But I try, and in the midst of my scramble, I realize that it doesn’t matter because there isn’t anything I could possibly say that would bring any sort of comfort. Not the kind of comfort they seek and certainly not the kind that’s even remotely tangible. If I could manipulate time, I’d be of more use. I’d fast forward to a place where things made more sense, where rest came a little easier and when grief wasn’t so consuming – because it is…until it’s not. Sometimes all you can do is let someone know you’re there.
The new year is hard for me. Ever since 2008, my year begins with the reminder that my father is not here. His absence is always present. Grief lasts as long as love does…forever. It has most certainly become easier with time but January 2 will always and forever be a day of loss for me. Then January 3 is a reminder of my friend and sister Liz, whose life ended far too soon for a soul so young, bright and curious. The older I get, the more goodbyes, losses and tragedy there are to fill the pages of my story than I care to think of. There are faces I will never see again, hugs I’ll never feel and laughter that still dances through my memories from time to time. I imagine they are all up there having a grand old time until we meet again and that vision puts my heart at ease. Although, sometimes I wonder how many more holes my heart can take.
I was asked to go to the Rose Bowl on the first of this year. Without hesitation, I was like “YES!” A second later. “Who’s playing?” “Ohio State and Washington.” You’ve gotta be kidding me. So I went in support of the Big Ten. Don’t worry, I wore a Michigan shirt under my sweatshirt. It was a true VIP experience. From Teslas and box seats to free booze and heated toilet seats. I repeat, heated toilet seats. I didn’t even know that was a thing and to be honest, it took me a few to even figure out what was happening. I don’t even know how to turn on the heat in my apartment. Does my apartment even have heat? Who knows. It was quite the day. The entire time, I kept thinking how much my dad would have loved it – even if OSU was playing. He loved January 1. He loved the bowl games. He loved watching football. On the first of the year, you would always find him on the couch, completely immersed in the games. He loved the sport.
This picture of my dad and me doing the Hokey Pokey is one of my favorites. I actually tried to figure out the origin story of the Hokey Pokey and all I could find were muddied tales of hocus pocus, Jesus and Canadian troops in London. I’m not even kidding. It could have been two sisters in London, could have been a dude in Ireland, maybe it’s JC himself- no one knows. And then it got me thinking, maybe that is what it’s all about. Maybe there aren’t definitive answers for everything. Maybe the WHY of it all will never be answered. But we have to remember to live on. To create new stories, to find new adventures, to live a life a life worth reading about. We each come to find and learn about love in our own ways and through our own experiences. Stories will forever change with time and the only person’s truth you can rely on is your own. Life is about experiences and being there for the ones we love. It’s about showing up. It’s about making tough decisions and standing my them. It’s about making memories and it’s certainly about those we’ve met along the way. I wish I had more time with my dad- of course I do, but I know how lucky I am to have the time that I did. To those of you who are grieving, just keep holding on. And when all else fails, put your left foot in and shake it all around. Xx