a rant about years
Hello. I am back. That is somewhat the gist of this past year- things bouncing back. Old regrets ricocheting off the walls of old haunts, a decaying houseplant growing green again. A haunting.
Today will mark the 6th New Year’s Eve without Ry. I write about Ry a lot. Some may think I do so at nausea. The problem is, every friendship and endeavor of this iteration of my life can be traced directly to my time being friends with him. I exited an abusive relationship thanks to my friendship with him. The definition of intimacy changed because of him. I miss him. Several NYE spent dancing to Talking Heads and kissing cheeks at midnight. I wish he were here tonight. I wish I could see which one of my friends fall in love with him, smoking a cigarette in my backyard, cheersing a beer.
My grief stays as big as an entire universe. It takes up my entire heart. It changes the way I move. It changes. It changes. I am shocked that… it changes.
In the early years of my grief, I used it as an excuse to keep people and places in my life longer than they should stay. I didn’t want to lose even the most unwelcomed of guests. I held a fear that one day they will die and I will not be there for them even if they were rarely there for me in a way I needed. This year I learned to be at peace when things die, to let more things breathe and become bigger and brighter. Let love of those who share the same ethics and ability to be humble expand its wingspan. Let me and my grief fill up a room. Let me put friendships to rest. Let me put my foot down when people expose themselves. Let me stay home more. Let me spend an entire day cooking a curry just for me. Let me spend an entire month reading a single book. Let me admire how I have a stretch of time. Let me remember our stretch of time. Let me say yes to new things and let me forgive after time. Let me also take back my time and never forgive.
I will never forgive silence. My grief fuels my anger. It is a privilege for me to grieve one person at a time. I do not ever forget that. There are folks being slaughtered by our tax money and those of you who want to protect a system that doesn’t protect you, fuck all the way off. This year I have left people behind for being on the wrong side of history, for not knowing how to be direct, for apologies that are too little too late. I could not have done that without grieving my best friend. Missing him has reminded me to have standards for the people around me. To care. To really really deeply care. To be embarrassingly loud about caring but not feel embarrassed about it.
This year I saw people I love lose friends they love. We have grieved as a collective for the world. Grief is never ending. It spirals then combusts then glues itself back together into a new shape. It doesn’t disappear or dissipate into the ether. It turns you into some new type of fearless. It’s hardened me and softened me at the same time. It’s hard to explain! I am rambling! I am sad! Every New Year’s Eve morning I feel weights on my chest. I am briefly overwhelmed with sadness. A new year tomorrow, another year to pummel through seasons without a friend. If this is your first full year without someone you love, do not be afraid. I hope you cry in all the wrong places and kiss all the right people. I hope this upcoming year you find person you miss in the most embarrassing places like in flowers and looking out at a sunset. Each new year, I am afraid I will forget but each day I never do.
My dear little chicken Ryan, I wish you were coming to my apartment tonight. I wish you could see my apartment. We didn’t wait for 6 months to get a couch like we did when we lived above a pharmacy on Greene ave. I wonder what you would think of my record collection and I wonder which friends of mine would thank you for being a good listener. It’s so hard to be one. It’s hard to be patient. Maybe I’ll learn how to be in the new year.