Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Men Should Drink Coffee

Coffee is delicious treat. And, it's a thing that you do.

I love making coffee, drinking coffee, and going out for coffee. When we were house-hunting, my husband looked for things like brick construction and whole-house air. I looked for a nearby coffee shop. For me, a coffee shop = civilization.

Sometimes, I get excited about going to bed, because I know that when I wake up, I get to have coffee.

I'm so glad that my husband Billy loves coffee. I remember my dating days, and how bitterly disappointed I'd be when a new boyfriend told me that he didn't drink coffee. I'd suggest "getting coffee" as a fun activity, and the guy would say something awful like, "I'll have a hot chocolate."

At which point, I'd picture the barista handing my date something like this:

So embarrassing.

I love that Billy loves coffee. When we wake up on a road trip out of town, we know our first priority: finding good coffee. When we have a long drive ahead of us, we stop for coffee. We know that Sunday mornings are made for coffee. And we don't have to worry about offending each other with coffee breath. We just drink more coffee.

Men should drink coffee.

Sunday, August 9, 2015

When Love Turns into Grief (and Back Again)

It's been six weeks since I lost my tiny soul mate.


I miss him every day. I miss him so much, I've resorted to magical thinking -- desperately wishing for a way to time travel back to the accident and save him. I've carefully thought through every magical scenario. Would I tell my husband I'd come from a terrible future? Would he believe me? Or would I secretly watch the next six weeks unfold all over again, only happier, because this time, I'd have my little guy by my side?

Sound crazy? I know. This is why I've  grown impatient with myself. No one wants to feel crazy.

But a friend lifted a great burden when she put it this way: Love and grief are completely entwined. When the heart can no longer love -- at least, not the way it's used to -- the feeling turns to grief. But the feeling never dulls.

That made sense to me. Love turns into grief.

Anyone who loves will eventually grieve. 

But recently, I learned that there is another ending to that sad sentence.

It happened because I celebrated my birthday. I love my birthday. I love everyone's birthday, and I like to make a big fuss. But this year, I couldn't imagine how I could possibly have a happy birthday. I knew my only wish (to have Porter back) could never come true, so I wanted to let the day pass by with as little disappointment as possible.

But my loved ones didn't let that happen. Even though I didn't make a big deal out of my birthday, they did. For three days straight, I was showered with love and surprises. My friends took me out, bought me drinks, and pulled me onto the dance floor. My husband presented a cake onstage at a concert, and got the entire audience to sing to me. His band went along with the party and even dedicated my favorite song to me. The next night, I got to be the guest of honor at a decadent birthday dinner party. I even got Facetimed from afar.

Love helps heal a broken heart, and I got so much love.

Love turns to grief. Sad but true.  

But love (and time) turns grief back to love again.

It's such a relief to realize that. That you really can dance and laugh again without loving any less. 

Thank you Billy, Mom, Dad, Madge, Jessica, Christy, Krista, Megan, The Ten Band, Marcy, Chris, Alex, Dale, Line, my co-workers, Winnie, Firefly, and everyone who sent me a present or sweet message for my birthday this year. You made me so happy. I love you.