We’re not even a full month into 2009 and I’ve already lost another friend (lost, here being a euphemism for, “he died”). Last year I lost a parent and a friend. And over the years, well, let’s just say I’ve lost a lot of people, most of whom were taken from this earth while they were still quite young.
I have a mantel in my apartment. Not a real fireplace, but a mantel over a faux fireplace (they’re pretty common in old Manhattan apartments). On it, amongst the knick knacks and pictures of family and friends there is one pictue that’s in a fancier frame than the rest. The frame kind of stands out because I didn’t buy it for myself. It’s not my style. I bought it as a birthday gift for a friend. It was so, completely her taste. But I’m bad about birthdays. I’m great about buying gifts and picking out just the right thing for the right person. And then I’ll forget to give/send it to them because I lose track of the date/days.
I bought her the frame and then forgot to send it and then months passed and I kept forgetting (she lived far away) and then I heard from a mutual friend that she passed away. It was sudden. I was devasted. She’d died and I hadn’t spoken to her in months. She died thinking that I’d forgotten her birthday, that I didn’t care enough to write or call. Anyway, now I keep a picture of her in that frame on my mantel. As a reminder.
So why the depressing post about death? Because I believe that it’s important to always remember that our time on this earth is limited. And that we don’t know when that time is up. I’ve lost friends in their early 20s, early 30s, 40s and had a great uncle who lived to 101. I know that sometimes it seems like I’m in a rush. Like I’m pushing things. That I’m impatient.
Well, hell yeah, I am. I want each and every day that I am fortunate enough to be on this earth to be a good one. Or as good as I can make it. And I know that I am happier with a partner than I am alone. I can be OK alone. I am OK alone. But I prefer to wake up in someone’s arms. That’s my truth and I’m not ashamed of it and don’t feel the need to apologize for it to anyone. That’s what I want.
I guess you can say that I have a sick and morbid case of carpe diem and that it affects my dating life in very specific ways. Shit, you can say whatever you want.