Ho Hum

This is such a hard thing.

I don't want to let go, and yet I'm looking down a long path that leads to exactly that, and talking myself into each little inching step, coaxing, persuading, reassuring because I have to. Because I'm trying to believe something good will come of all this. And as small and insignificant as I feel, as little my contributions to LIFE might seem, there's no way to be sure. If I were to yank myself out of my little role as me in this life, a 26 year old little girl enmeshed by ups and downs and all arounds and steady companion to chaos, confusion, struggle... I'm sure the scene would be incomplete - more incomplete if I flaked, you know? I mean, the void would be bigger than I think. I just know that Joe didn't know. He just didn't have a good perspective on all that. I don't blame him. I've felt that way... Actually I seem to get a refresher course every couple of weeks. Luckily right now I feel well enough to know that I can't trust me sometimes. Anyway. I started writing because he was so much on my mind. I'm listening to my familiar Bill Evans Autumn Leaves, wishing I had a glass of wine to sip on, remember the visceral special way my mister used to enjoy things like that. Not at all in a pretentious or snooty way, just eager and savoring. And being happy for the special.

Yeah so to maybe try and satisfy this aching I get where I just want to talk to him so badly... I want him back agh
I read emails or notes from him, hoping it will be like he's here or something... And it only makes me miss him more. But it also makes me love him more. I feel like I'm blindly groping through this crazy grief thing. I don't know if I'm doing it right. And all the experts say there's no one right way... Everybody's different. But I feel like this is never going to end. More time more time...

An old email from him november '06:

"I am going to work soon, which means I will join you in the Ho Hum Dept. But nonetheless, I love my mister. And I love big hamburgers. But I love the former more in a strictly non-dietary sense. Well, alright, not strictly.
Wuv.
m
i
s
t
e
R"


Dear emighesstee-eearh (mister),
I am about to leave the Ho Hum Dept. Yeay! I was so anxious to leave right at 5 but then I starting thinkin about you and got carried away. So now I'm really going to leave. And maybe I will go home and take a load off, have a beer, play a tune or two, and wuv my mister of course. Thanks for bein a friend. The best. Talk to you. Wuv, your tee double "o" ess eigh ee.