In the wake of Roberta's death, I feel sad, heartbroken and admitedly, lonely. Losing someone you care about, no matter how short of a time you may have know them is one of the most difficult things to go through. It forces a person to stop and reflect on their life; what they've done right, what they've done wrong. Are there regrets? Would they have done things differently if given another chance? The whole ball of wax is under the microscope and usually wet with tears.
Generally speaking, I'm a pretty happy go-lucky type of girl. I am not tormented by ghosts or choices I've made in the past to get me to where I am today. I've had some shitty moments and I've also had some regrets but typically, those moments of opacity have led to some wonderful moments that would have otherwise not happened, so I'm ok with it. I've made some pretty big decisions in my life that most people have never had to face or contemplate and even with those decisions, I'm very confident with my choices.
But at times my confidence falters in the one area of my life where I am not as sure-footed; relationships. I don't really trust myself in this strange arena because I have not been very successful (batting average would be one or 2 pop-flys that looked like they could be homeruns but on average, mostly foul balls). During certain times, usually prompted by certain types of events, I can feel the sharp talons of loneliness piercing through my bones and it always stops me in my tracks. I've made choices that have led me to feel this way. Have I made stupid mistakes? I had no one's shoulder to cry on, late at night, when my neighbor died. I will be alone at her memorial surrounded by other people who will have brought their handy shoulders to cry upon. I could have literally used someone to lean on when my back went out and I could barely stand up. That sucked, but I managed to drive to work, get to a doctor and get my back fixed, all on my own. But it would have been nice for someone to refresh my ice pack for me as I laid on my bed cursing the spine gods.
I have no one to share the triumphs (albeit small triumps) of my day.
"Guess what honey? I rode up to Henniger Flats on my mountain bike without stopping or passing out! yay! Go put on your fancy sneakers because we're gonna to celebrate!" Or delight in my clever, useful, frugal and we-are-going-to beat-the-man discoveries such as you can buy a 64 ounce soda cup at AM/PM and fill it with ice coffee for a buck 69, almost a dollar less at starbux and you get about 44 ounces more! Whoo-hoo! and the best part? Refills for life at a buck 39!! Granted, a person does not NEED that much coffee, ever, but hey, it would've been nice to relish in that discovery with someone who understood why that's so fucking cool to me.
I hear a lot of my married friends talk about how they hate being married. Actually, hate is a strong word, but I do hear them say that if they had to do it again, they would NOT get married. They don't hate being married per se, and though not one of them has actually said this out loud to me, I think they actually hate the person they are married to. It's weird, these couples had dreams and hopes of a future that didn't include bitching about their spouses to anyone who would listen. They took vows to love, cherish and honor each other until the day they died. Fast forward 15 years and now the only part they remember is someone has to die.
In moments like these, when I really wish I had someone waiting for me at home to give me a big hug and kiss and remind me that everything is going to be ok, all of the complaints from my married friends seem to fade into the background as I wonder and contemplate if the decisions I made were mistakes and if I let a couple of good ones get away. But then I start to remember and relive some of the "pop-flys" and I am grateful all over again why I am so happy to be single... and not incarcerated.
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