"Getting older's not been on my plans"

  There is this moment, somewhere between his second to last slowing breath and his first snore. I usually get a a few quiet, glorious moments of staring and touching. His face: so serene and calm. And on occasion, when I caress his right cheek, just before he sails off into dreamless sleep, he slightly will offer his left cheek for a graze.   There is this moment, somewhere between him stripping down to his boxers and getting comfy in his chair. I beckon him with a look and he knows I want to stare. His body is for my eye's taking. I scour his every visible inch...if only for my memorization. And he quarter turns till I am done, and he doesn't flinch. It is for his health. For my pleasure.   There is this moment, somewhere between his 4th and 5th drink. His eyes get that hungry stare. That one that can only be satiated with me. I get to kiss him. But not in the, "I love you too" way...but more in the, "I need you now" way. I mentally put away every dark b...

  Often I say snarky things. Most of the time, I say them to Baby bee. And more often, I hear him say back, beneath his breath, "I have; I am; I am." And it was just two years ago, or perhaps what sometimes feels like forever, that we first said those words to each other.   I always imagined I would walk down the aisle, arm locked in my father's, toward a goal. More importantly, toward a man. But I was never quite sure who that would be, or even who I would be. I was an independent woman, of 32, who lost much but knew one thing: I was loved. And as Edelweiss was beautifully intoned on the organ, I walked as gracefully as one can in a long wedding gown towards the man who would hold my forever.   And today, we celebrate ourselves as cotton. Last year, we were paper: fragile and inexpensive. Something that we write our goals and life's deepest darkest secrets upon to remind us that we are each other's intimate diary. This year: cotton. We celebrate the need to rem...

  As the world so desperately mourned those 7 selected, it waited in disbelief as Ronald Reagan, President of the United States, while quoting Peggy Noonan said so hauntingly and eloquently..."We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them...as they 'slipped the surly bonds of earth' to 'touch the face of God.'"   I was 7 when I first read these words, and although I didn't quite understand, my brother, who has since slipped, tried to paint a picture of purest goodbye. The gut-wrenching moments of goodbye that rip us from normal and place us in an alternate reality. Our new home...our new normal. It would be many years later, that fateful day he touched the Almighty's face, that I grew to understand.   It appears that 2019 is shaping up to be a very trying year. From the first day, as we said goodbye to my aunt, when just moments before she was giggling Happy New Year to her son, till now when I hear rancid reports of my cousin being...

  It is most usual for someone who is speaking at a funeral or memorial to speak of the dead. Accomplishments and personality. Characteristics and perhaps a few flaws...if only to remind us that they, although great, were human. We are to talk of who they were on blissful Fridays and how they overcame stressful Mondays.   But sometimes those things aren't necessary. Sometimes there are more important things and most times...those things go left unsaid.   Even if I stood here and boasted of Aunt Samantha's beautiful countenance and strong abounding love...it would still be leaving something unsaid.   So, I turn then to you three. You beautifully broken three. First... I love you.   Second, I want you to look to the woman sitting just there... that is my mother. Alive. Grieving her sister but still alive. So when I tell you I understand what you are going through it is not that I understand the pain of losing a mother...or even losing your mother. It is that I...

  There is something beautifully broken about deja vu. I heard once that it is your mind telling you that you have been here, in this moment, and survived. That all will be well. But I suppose this wasn't entirely concrete deja vu. This was me rewriting memories.   Three years ago, I sat in this exact theatre waiting for Ben Howard to sing to me. I waited for him to open up and bare his soul in a way that no musician ever had. This time, although still waiting for him, it was just night and day in my circumstance.   Walking the long distance, was somewhat of a different cadence. Last time, I walked next to a man who broke me and tried to glue me back together with an emotionless dalliance and cacophonous pleasantries. This time I couldn't stop thinking of the man who gave nothing but euphoric words of forever.   To be honest, I wasn't sure how Ben would speak to me this time around. Would it be a stroll down memory lane or would it be a whole new adventure full of...

 It was hard enough remembering my toast. The one I had prepared so diligently and thought and thought over to no end. It was something he and I had talked about a few times--the fact I would have one memorized and ready to publish and his would be winged from the top of his head. But, with a rough start I did remember. And my tribute, of course, mentioned my brother. How could it not?   See, I never wanted to be with anyone who didn't know my brother. I wanted him to continue to be alive and well within the hearts of me and my beloved. I talked, often, about Andy. I referenced my brother in random conversations he and I would hold...especially since there were many things about him that reminded me of Andy. I told him so. He didn't flinch.   It was rough not having him there to dance with me; it was rough not having him there wish me well; it was just rough. Not any less beautiful, but rough none-the-less. It wasn't that I felt him there, as many people say, ...

  I have been side by side with friends who have experienced this sense of nothingness. I have calmed fears and wiped away tears. I have been there when hope seemed so far away. But, never had I felt that sense of emptiness. Until now...   From the moment I knew what sex was, I was convinced I would get pregnant the moment I engaged in sexual relations. I knew I would never be able to get away with casual sex because sitting my parents down and telling them me and the man I was seeing were expecting a child...out of wedlock. That fear was mine. Granted, I kept myself for reasons other than this, but this certainly was entertained more than not.   So, strange for me, when I consummated my marriage that I came up barren. Nothing. There was no child to speak of. I was without. Eh. It was a fleeting thought of let down after many endless talks of "I could quite possibly be pregnant this time next month." Month after month... Nothing.   Two months back, I sat on the co...