The Best View In Town
I finally did it. I finally went back to the last place I was with him alone.
The Grove garage roof. Now I am pretty pissed. I had written an entire entry about this, but because of the internet, it didn't save. So I am not sure if I am able to muster the same sentiments from before. But I can say this. I have not been back to this place since he died. Last year on my birthday, after he surprised me with a beautiful dinner, I brought him up to the roof to light up a joint and share what I consider to be one of the best views in town. The luminous sky above us and the wave of twinkling house lights in front of us. It's one of my favorite spots in LA. A view. You can't beat it.
So last night, my two dear friends and I trekked to the roof to spark up as I had once done. I slowly realized we needed to move to the best corner if we were going to do this right. But I had hesitation in my heart. This place had meant something profound to me. Before he died, it was the last place I was alone with him. The place where we solidified how profound our connection was. Where we learned about each other in the deepest ways. Where he looked at me like I was a celestial being sent from above to see into his soul and make him finally feel less alone before he died a month later. This place held some weight.
As we approached, tears filled my eyes. My friends questioned me and made sure I was ok, not knowing what experience this held for me. To which I could only reply:
Feelings indeed. I have dealt with my feelings surrounding his death, but a place is different. I could still see our backs next to each other; discussing our stories, asking silly questions, and looking at each other as we realized how important it was that we had met. I mean, he changed my life. In every way. I could still feel the butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I realized I had a friend that resembled a soul mate in him. I let the tears fall from my eyes and we sparked up a joint. I was back here doing the same thing with different people. These friends are dear to me, one of which is in my life because of him. Most of my good friends now are in my life because of him. Because of his passing. I am grateful to him for this. He brought me my tribe. He left behind a family for me. For us.
My friend proceeded to tell us a story that shook me to the core. She took us back to the first day we all met up with each other after he passed. It was the first time we were hanging out as changed people. Now my friend made the note that she keeps her car very clean; no trash, junk, or loose receipts ever find their way to her car floor. But this one day, as she was nervously on her way to see us, she noticed a little slip of paper on her floor. She picked it up and I assume gasped. It was the receipt from the hospital dated the night he died. How she had this and why it was on the floor is a mystery. She had no idea where it came from or how she hadn't noticed it before. I see this as fate. A little reminder he left of where we came from and how we got here. Fate appears to everyone differently. I know when I see fate. And like clockwork, a cold gust of wind hit our faces snapping us back to the present moment smoking a joint. I said hello to him as he passed us and blew a ring of smoke into the air for him to enjoy.
I had survived this.
Going back to the place. I hadn't melted into a puddle of emotions the way I feared I would. I have dealt with my feeling surrounding his passing, but a place is different. A place is a tangible memory. A three dimensional reminder of a moment and a person's impact. I looked at my friends and smiled. I felt grateful to know them at this moment. Grateful at how they came into my life and why they are here now. And I toasted them. I toasted the moment, the new year, the memory, and the love I felt for him. And I walked away with one single tear and a smile. I looked back over my shoulder and for a moment, I swear I could almost see him standing there smiling and winking.
So here's my point: don't let the fear or pain of a memory hold you back from the present. Because the present is a gift. And don't let the weight of your emotions keep you down, because they demand to be felt. I don't see our feelings as a gift, I see them as a honor.
There is honor in feeling something so deeply, it could destroy you. But don't let it. Cherish and celebrate it. It is the time to celebrate these things. And if you need a good view once in awhile, I know just the spot.
(The him will one day be revealed. In do time.)