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12.19.2005

Make a wish.


Birthdays for me have always been rife with disappointment. This can be a disappointing time of year. Sure, it is merriment and holidays. Celebrations of family and exchange of presents and well-wishes.

However, it is also a time to ponder our regrets. Time when we are forced to reconcile with our demons. Face the music. Remember missed opportunities. It is the end of another year. People are reminded of their imminent demise, the quickly falling sands of time.

It has always been difficult for me to gather people together to celebrate my birthday because there are so many other festivities around this time of year. People are overstretched. So, I usually end up doing something quiet and low-key. Which is fine for me. I don't really care.

I'd be lying, though, if I said I didn't have some small expectations. I have always secretly hoped for something miraculous to happen to me on this one day of the year.

This year, I told LIL S'BEB* that I wanted to go away for my birthday. He misinterpreted this as I wanted us to go away together. I really wanted to just take a train somewhere by myself and spend a night in a lovely hotel. Alone.

I am not disappointed that he has joined me on my day trip for my birthday, mind you. Please don't think I am being ungrateful to have his company. He is a good friend who just wants me to be happy. He is someone I will always care for. And, because of his connections, I am sitting in a plush terrycloth robe in the most astounding luxury hotel with all the liquor and food I could ever hope to consume. For free.

But, his presence inevitably sets up expectations. We have to celebrate. It's my birthday. Not only that, but we have to celebrate like a couple. Which, my heart and mind are quickly practicing not to be. Although we still walk near each other, I no longer want his arm on my back. I don't want his kiss to build a dream on. I'm all out of love. Love don't live here anymore.

A week before his heart transplant, my brother told me something that has left me unsettled. He told me that it doesn't really matter to him if he lives or dies. He said he is not afraid of dying. That he feels like life is just a series of waiting patterns before we pass on.

Naturally, I said that there must be things he looks forward to, longs for, hopes to achieve. But he said all that is just stuff. That none of that really imbued him with a passion for this world. He said he was going through all of this for us now, to protect us from sadness. He was so matter-of-fact about it. Not ungrateful or pessimistic. Just realistic.

Since our conversation I have been troubled with the prospect of how to convince someone that life is worth living. How do you give a reason to live to someone whose life's signature key will always be sharp with sadness and lacking real romantic love?

It's been a week since his transplant operation and the recovery process is slow and full of potential pitfalls. But, he is getting there. Very, very slowly. He hasn't been able to speak yet because he is on a ventilator, and I am anxious to ask him about how he feels now.

Also, I want to tell him that I understand why he may find it so easy to feel unmoved by the reality of living. But, perhaps, I am hoping, there is something miraculous and wonderful about life that neither of us has yet begun to truly understand, or stopped dreaming to expect.








* LIL S'BEB (Live-In, Long-term, Soon to Be Ex Boyfriend.)

link * Miss Marisol posted at 12:21 PM * posted by Miss Marisol @ 12:21 PM   |