next stop

Took a brief trip down a rabbit hole of memories to reflect on those who’ve passed and now I come up for air wondering if sleeping beneath soil is more comfortable than appears. Thoughts of Myrna arose because at one time I’d believed her to be a friend. We’d gotten to know one another because her husband and my boyfriend were besties so often we’d go out together. We were an odd bunch because of language and culture differences but I’d gotten to know everyone’s families and they’d taken me into their homes and treated me like I too was a member. When I broke up with my boyfriend she (they/them) cut me off just like that, as if I were a stranger that had spit in all their faces at once. I was hurt but probably not as hurt as I should have been because I’d moved on to drown myself in work, discovering all the ways one could escape any sort of relationship or the living of a real life. Came across her obituary a few years ago. She died from complications of cancer. Not sure if that sentence is true or makes proper sense; it’s just what was written in her obituary. They’d added her to one of those sites that does videos and includes a hundred or so photos for visitors to remember her by. She’d divorced and remarried, and although she had three daughters when I knew her, she’d gone on to have a son and several grandchildren. When I knew her she wasn’t working but she’d found a career for herself and seemed to have done well with the changes she made in her life. When you look real close at the wedding photos you can see she’d lost her hair and was wearing wigs. But if I focus only on her it’s clear she’s experiencing one of the happiest times in her life. When I knew her she never smiled so much and her eyes never glossed over in joy as reflected in those photos. Her husband though, his eyes in all the same photos reflect sadness such that when I put it all together realize it was probably her last wish as they married only months before she passed. She was fifty. It seemed beautiful to me all the effort they’d made to bring that day to reality. I was reminded that Love doesn’t care about getting dolled up – it just cares. Truth is we were never close though I can pretend the time we all spent together meant something, something more than nothing. I’m grateful to have seen those photos and the joy radiating in her soul from the light beings circling her physical presence. It gives me hope not sought but somehow needed.

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