Wish me luck
When I imagined meeting A’s family and friends for the first time, I assumed a few things. I assumed laughter. I assumed affinity. And most of all, I assumed he would be there to make the introductions between the people that meant most to him in the world. I assumed he’d be there to hold my hand, and they’d see by the way he was with me that I was good to him and for him, and they’d welcome me. We’d become friends, too, and live, at the very least, cordially ever after.
Tomorrow afternoon, I will meet them all, (with the exception of his daughter and her husband and child), and I will do it alone. Am I nervous? Oh, you bet your bippy. I am one to their many. I’ve been hearing about them for 2 years, but to them I’m a stranger. They have questions; I have answers, but I’m not sure they really want to know all of them. It’s a bit surreal, I must admit, like going to meet the characters of your favorite book. And it may well be for them, too. Just who is this woman who came out of the clear blue sky, portending such horrible news?
I want to meet them; it feels important. It could all go wonderfully, and I really hope it does. We could all use a little bit of wonderful right now, and I think we all realize that, too. A always said we’d like each other, and I trust his judgment. Everything he told me about them tells me I have nothing to fear; they’re good people, just like him. But…under these circumstances, things are more difficult, naturally. It is hard to build anything on a foundation of tragedy; it’s hard to reach out when your faith is shaken.
Honestly, I’m most worried that I’ll screw up, say too much, particularly on an emotional level. You know me…I put it all out there, and give voice to even my most difficult feelings. My e-mails to the family and friends, especially right after he died, were intense like that. Not long tomes, but fraught with emotion nonetheless, as I was. I got the feeling they didn’t know what to do with that, and so I tried to dial it back a few notches, but I don’t know how successful I was; after all, I’m still me. It’s easy to have a poker face in black and white; however, I have no such ability in person. Everything I feel shows. His best friend is picking me up from the airport; A will not be there to greet me as he did every other time. How do I deal with that? Will I be able to hold it together when I meet his sister, who has the same color eyes he did? A always told me he and his brother had the same face, but for the goatee; will the resemblance blow me away? What if his voice is the same? What if they ask all the questions I know must be on their minds? That’s what I’m most anxious about. Will I be overwhelmed? Will they?
Whenever A would bring me to the airport to go home, I would tear up. He always said there was no need to be sad; we’d see each other again. He was wrong this last time. We probably will, but not in this lifetime. But when it got to be time for me to go through security, he would wait at the very edge of the allowed space, moving so I could see him right up until I finally turned the corner and it was impossible. He did this every time, and I thought it was very sweet of him. I always thought he did it as a favor to the sniffly, sentimental girl who already missed him. Maybe he was doing it for him, too; I don’t know. That’s what he was doing the last time I saw him with my own eyes, without two computers and a thousand miles between us. But now he’s turned the corner instead of me, and it’s impossible for me to see him, no matter where I move and how I crane my neck; security is unmoved by my plight.
I want them to like me, and be glad he had me in his life. I want them to see that I loved him dearly, and always will. I really want us all to get some comfort and healing from the meeting. So if you have any good vibes that know the way to SJ, I’d sure appreciate you sending them our way tomorrow. I’ll let you know how it goes.