All of my soulmates are in this room!
Loss has been good to me.
It’s 4:51am on April 28th. I am pressed between the warm bodies of two of my dearest friends, Bella and Kate, after a long and perfect night of overpriced vodka lemonades. They’re both done with their finals and have come down to Athens to visit Jamie and I this weekend. It was all we could talk about this week. The four of us haven’t been together in over a month, and I am becoming very aware of how much I took seeing each of their faces every morning for granted in high school.
Bella and Kate are both asleep on either side of me. All three of us are wearing shirts that were given to me by my dad, and love is everywhere.
I think about my dad. Three years ago today, my mother’s father died, and I cried in my dad’s arms for the first time since I was very young. I loved my grandfather very much, and I remember being deeply distressed by the thought that I wouldn’t feel his hands in mine ever again, but all I could really think about was how much more intense my mother’s pain must have been. I cried to my father because I knew that he felt just as helpless as I did while we watched the woman we love the most fall apart at the seams. Being in my mother’s presence feels like sunlight is tracing down your spine, and albeit in different ways, she gave both my father and I life (add that to the laundry list of things we have in common—excellent music taste, stubborn to a fault, absolutely nothing without that enigma of a woman, wife, and mother).
That was the first time April 28th was no longer just another day. I spent that night doing exactly what I’m doing right now—sharing a bed with two girls that I love with all of my heart (how lucky I am to have so many of them): my younger cousins, Prudence and Trixie. I was trying my absolute best to be strong for them, but my heart was bleeding grief, and it was beginning to flood my chest.
That was three years ago to the day, and I think it’s pretty serendipitous that I once again find myself struggling to fall asleep between two girls that I love in a bed fit for one, heart bleeding. I take it as something of an “I’ve got you, girl” from God that this time, my heart is bleeding gratitude instead of grief—both of which are part of a beautiful life, because they’re both just sub-sectors of love, when you really think about it (you can read last month’s article, “On Grief, Gratitude, and the Law of Conservation of Energy,” here).
Eight hours ago. It’s 8:47pm on April 27th. In anticipation of our grand excursion to the bars, we have spent the entire day in Jamie’s room, where Bella and Kate tell us all about their new friends at their respective universities and the four of us reminisce on high school drama, laughing about how small it all seems now. Jamie tells Avery and Elena that we all would have been friends in high school, and everybody agrees (I’m reminded of a text sent to me by my beautiful, wonderful, endlessly admirable aunt earlier this month: “We would have been best friends, me and you, if we were in school together!”). The six of us do our very best to share the only mirror in the room while we do our makeup, and I would not change a thing about it—this is the closest I will ever get to having sisters.
Avery tells us that she’s decided to stay at OU next year, and I cry almost as much as I did when I was shown a recording of a four-year-old Elena singing to her father last week. I love Avery and Elena, and though I’ve known them for less than a year, I am struggling to stomach the fact that I’m not going to see either of them for three months. They have become so special to my heart.
Four hours ago. It is 1:10am on April 28th, and I find myself quietly but openly weeping at a bar that I’ve never been particularly fond of, melodramatically declaring to my friends that this was now my favorite place in the entire world, because “all of my soulmates are in this room!” They just laugh—they are all used to my dramatics by now.
I ordered my first-ever shot of tequila in this bar less than a year ago. I’m a thirty second walk from the bar where my parents met, and I start to wonder how many great love stories have begun on Court Street. The alcohol buzzing in my veins tells me that my greatest love story is this moment, because I am surrounded by so many pieces of my heart (I am happy), and we’re dancing to songs that were introduced to me by my first real love (I am happy), and Avery is taking pictures that I will show my kids someday (I am happy). There’s a boy in a bar across the street who broke my heart, and I am not thinking about him at all, because my shitty, overpriced drink tastes like I am holding flowers in both hands.
All this is to say that loss has been good to me.
Some housekeeping before I rot at my desk studying for the rest of the night:
I have finals this week. Prayers are encouraged and appreciated.
My upcoming piece, “I Left the Love of my Life for the Rest of the World,” will be published in the first issue of Luvsick! Magazine on Wednesday. I’m very proud of this piece, and I’m so excited for it to be yours.
My mother turns 49 on Thursday. I would write her the most beautiful sonnet in the history of the English language if only I could find the words strong enough for how lucky I feel to be made of her.
I’m moving out of my dorm on Friday.
I’ll spend Saturday reacquainting myself with the sweet familiarity of my parents’ house. And probably Bella’s house, too.
I’ll see my cousins on Sunday, and Nate will be taller than I am, and I will try my best not to get emotional about it, because he’s 13 now and he will roll his eyes at me.
I’ll miss Athens by Monday.
Thank you for reading You Get What You Need ♡
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