Back to SF
A week ago I sent an e-mail to A’s sister with a two-fold purpose. I told her I was looking forward to the Tommy Emmanuel concert, which is Saturday in San Francisco. Interestingly, it falls on A’s daughter’s 31st birthday. I also told her that since this was likely the last time our paths would cross in person, I was really hoping to get the cards I sent A and the bracelet I asked for. I have not received a response yet on either point, which makes me a little nervous. I don’t want to get to SF and still be without information as to what time we’re meeting at the venue. I don’t have my ticket; she does, as far as I know. If I still haven’t heard from her by tomorrow, I’ll contact BF1, since he is also going to this, and see if he’s gotten the word.
As you all know, the memento thing has been an issue with me, one I’ve largely let go. I’m not going to get everything I want. Hell, if I were to get everything I wanted, he’d still be here, and the point would be moot. So I thought about what I really wanted, and the bracelet is it. It means a lot to me, and it would mean nothing to anyone else; it was imbued with much symbolism I carefully described in the card I sent it to him in, and he only took it off to shower; otherwise, he wore it constantly. Even the cards are secondary, but she offered them immediately, and I’d just as soon have them. This is the third time I’ve asked for the bracelet. It may well be the last.
When I decided I would ask again in anticipation of this visit, I was all fired up. I had this big plan that if I received any flak for asking for it, or was told “no” outright, I would lay it on thick, about how it was the least they could do after all I’ve been left out of, blah, blah, blah. I felt justified in going that direction because I felt hurt. And I still feel hrut. But as time has worn on, the more I think about it, the more I don’t think I can do it. It might be effective, but at what cost? Am I willing to mitigate my pain by causing it to someone else? I don’t think I am. The net result is still pain, so what would be the point? I don’t want to look at that symbol of love on my wrist and have it be tainted by ugliness in the obtaining of it, particularly if I’m the instigator of the potential ugliness. I have politely (if repeatedly) asked for a small thing within the family’s power to grant me, something reasonable, something I’m entitled to and that would mean a lot to me. If they choose to deny that request, that’s their business, I suppose. But I have to live with my choices and behavior, and that’s easier to do when I act from a place of sincerity and love. A guilt trip is not departing from that place.
I’ve been pulling together the details of my trip, with maps and directions and such. I realized Monday that I’d forgotten to reserve a rental car, so I took care of that. I will fly into San Jose and drive out to Big Basin, where they scattered his ashes, and have myself a little hike, a little quiet time, and perhaps lean against a huge redwood and soak up its seemingly never-ending life force, and leave behind some of my grief. It’s supposed to be raining. How appropriate.
Then I will head north to The City, check in to my hotel, and figure out what to do from there. I drove past both my hotel and the venue on the way to and from camp, so I know how to get there. The Palace of Fine Arts is a third of a mile from where I’m staying, the Golden Gate a couple miles. I have always wanted to walk across it. If I have the time, I may do that. And then I’ll get cleaned up and meet the gang at the show. I hear there will be t-shirts with his picture on them.
I realize that this is probably another goodbye, with them, and my connection to him through them. We haven’t been terribly involved in each other’s lives since our worlds collided, but it will be a loss to me nonetheless. They never knew me, and they’ll keep on not knowing me, so their lives haven’t actually changed much even now that they know I exist. But I heard about them all the time, knew them through A, followed their lives through his stories. They will continue to slip away from me, as they have been over the last almost seven months, but they will always be a part of me, and I will always love them, regardless of what, or whether, they think of me.