30 November 2012
4 pure mourning
"the eighth stage of grief is going back and apologizing to all of the people you offended while you were grieving."
steven said that a few weeks ago. in between discussions of how successful he would be as a drag queen and the unexpected, awful death of his 19-year-old cousin/brother/friend the day before.
i find this hilarifying and true. and laugh. and then cry. and then laugh again.
at the time, lindear was having a bad week. it was very up and down. i sent her a short story as told through emoticons because, really, what else can you do?
everything, everywhere, right now, for so many of us, feels very up and down.
entirely too many people i know are grieving. there has been too much death. it is unacceptable. i do not approve. i am not resigned.
the other evening, on the train after our semi-monthly dinner, my chicago godmother asked, "what is that on your wrist?"
and i told her.
i told her that when we were just friends, before we dated, when it came time for a term break or a long weekend when we would be apart, donovan would take a marker and he would write on my hand or my arm or my foot. always the same thing. always: "donovan was here."
and so, every morning now, for however long it needs to happen, i take a marker and i write on my wrist "donovan was here."
as a reminder. that this happened. that it is real. the hole that's there.
that donovan was here.