32: a love story

It just kind of hit that it's already 2011, and since I started this weak attempt to blog in 2008 this is the year to wrap it up. Then all I need to figure out is how to preserve this for me and delete it off the interwebs. In an attempt to increase my postings I'll make more of an effort to dig up old material. This one probably should've been published closer to Valentine's day (or the alternative singles appreciation day), at least I'm still in the month of February.

There are many faces you see in the hospital. Some look scared. Some look tired. Some become familiar as they linger on floor four waiting for whatever comes next. There have been many memorable encounters over my years there but not often is there a love story behind the people I see. More often than not the people there are alone, waiting, perhaps hoping for a visitor. I don't know what the statistics are that you'll be admitted to a hospital around the same time as your elderly spouse for entirely different causes. But it must be nice to be able to be there at the same time with someone who has done life with you going through the same thing. Ok, maybe nice isn't quite the right word as I mean it in more of a comforting way.

I didn't know you were one half of a pair when you first requested to eat your dinner outside in the hallway. It may seem a bit odd, but understandable as the hallway is the social watering hole of a hospital floor if you don't count the almost always empty "lounge" at one end. Sitting outside could guarantee interaction with others who may pass your way. Then you told me your reason for sitting outside was that you could spend time with your wife who was not so conveniently located in a room across the hall. There you were, the two of you eating your pureed food sitting across from one other. Close enough to see the other, but not quite close enough to touch.

I wonder what your story is, like how long have you been together? Guessing by your age it's safe to say you two have spent more than half your lives together, yet you don't seem tired of each other. You still seek out the other person's companionship. You still enjoy being in each other's presence. Your love for each other is evident. Old people in love are absolutely adorable, and it gives me hope that there is such a thing as love that lasts a life time. I'm sure this old pair have gone through their own shares of trials and tribulations but they've been able to come out together. They exemplify the kind of couples where each person makes the effort to choose the other person every day. Sure it's easier to just eat dinner alone in bed in front of a tv, the characters are probably more entertaining and you can pick and choose what you want to watch. Yet, this couple would rather sit there across from each other even though it's obvious their minds aren't as sharp as they used to be, their looks are no where near their prime, and they've had years of dinner conversations behind them.

Part of me wants this, someday.

thirty-one: the crazy one

Hmmm the title I gave this one is nicer than what it ought to be, but alas enough time has passed where I see her and I feel indifferent. Sometimes I even feel a tinge of curiosity to see where exactly she is these days. I could give her some nasty labels, but it's not really worth my energy. She used to be someone I looked up to. She put on a great show of being the perfect daughter, sister, friend. From the outside you'd think she had it all together, but slowly through the years she grew bitter and we grew apart. I think back to when we were both young and probably a tad big naive and we were kind of the same. I could see a lot of myself in her, except for her outward anger.

She lashed out at me more than once, and while a good scolding may have been justifiable under the circumstances she always lacked the manners to do it in the appropriate time and place. I've always wondered why she felt a need to publicly shame others. Maybe it was her way of asserting dominance and power. Maybe she just lacked that bit of social grace. Maybe she just didn't care that from an outsiders point of view it is almost never ok to make someone cry on a bus full of people. It's also not ok to broadcast to the church what wrongs you suspect of someone. You should also never go over to your friend's house in rage and terrorize her to the point where years have passed but you were the only person in your family left off the wedding invite list. Interrogating your younger brother's crush also crosses some strange boundaries that  did more harm than good. 

I know the truth is you never saw yourself the way you should have. You struggled with your self-worth, identity,  and you were too proud to ask for help. It was always better to put on the brave face, then to admit defeat. It was always better to pretend things were ok then to admit that they weren't. It was always easier to point out other people's faults then realizing that the very things you point out in them are the things you despise about yourself. 

There's a dream you've always held on to, and it's about to be fulfilled, and I hope you realize soon that it's not as hyped up as you think it is. It's one day, which is in a way a cumulation of the past days but it is certainly no predictor of future days. I hope for you it does bring you lots of happiness and joy, but that one day you find that others cannot give you continual feel-good feelings. Other people will disappoint you, and you will disappoint them, and it's ok. I think that's where we parted ways because you would hold on too tightly to the negative feelings instead of letting them go and acknowledging that humans by nature will hurt each other. Maybe one day when you push yet another person away forever you'll start to see that more clearly. But for the sake of those around you, I hope it doesn't come to that. I wish I could say I see a faint glimpse of what used to be good in you, but you've rejected that side of you and buried it deep.

Next time when I see you I'll continue to smile, because despite all you've done for me I'm still in a good place. You've helped toughen me up, oddly enough. Thankfully not too much though because there was a time where I was probably a few bad decisions away from turning into someone I don't want to be. 

thirty: you are so strong!

I've spent an exorbitant amount of time on my computer this week, working on a paper and procrastinating since it is reading week. Somehow that ended up in a new sleep pattern, which was probably a good thing because I was able to chat with a friend the other night. He's not someone I'm particularly close to, we've hung out a few times, exchanged a few emails, and now we're even chatting and texting. I guess you could say we were brought together in the worst of circumstances, which is something too private to reveal online.

It's been comforting to go through some of the same stuff together though, even though our outcomes could not be any different. I wouldn't want to trade places with him, but to say I haven't imagined the possibility would be a lie. I am so amazed at how strong he has been since his world was turned upside down. He's taken time off from school and focused all his energy on what was needed of him for two years. I could barely manage through one semester... He has found ways to encourage me, even when I should be the one encouraging him. I know you can make it through this, and remember when you feel you can't take another step there are many of us who want to support you. And I promise I'll be there, I'm just 10 digits away.

Take your time to feel sad, angry, relieved, whatever. Don't deny yourself the chance a good cry. Only those who are truly strong are capable of showing their emotions and vulnerabilities. I know this is probably one of the toughest things you'll ever have to face, and it's probably extra hard when you're young. It's probably something that will always be a small trickle of conscious thought in your day-to-day but the emotions will become less intense with time. Remember you are strong and you have made it this far.

twenty-nine: odd guy out

Grades 6,7,8 are generally pretty awful years for just about everyone. Puberty hits and everything seems to go awry. People who used to be friends turn into enemies are cliques are formed. Most people find their way around this time with the support of a few good friends. Others aren't so lucky, including S. I met him in grade 6 and looking back I can't even remember if I ever talked to him in the 3 years we went to school together. That's kind of sad for a small elementary and jr. high school.

S. stood out in the years when everyone is just trying to imitate the cool kids so they'll be accepted. He couldn't help it because sometime in his past he had brain cancer. His hair never quite grew back from whatever surgery he may have had, so his wispy comb-over look was definitely out of place when the look of the day was the bowl cut with the part down the middle. S also carried some baby fat, and wasn't graced with athletic talent. In the world of jr. high pecking order he was right at the bottom. People made fun of him, avoided him, ignored him, and probably made his life miserable. That much I do remember.

He kept to himself, and was perceived as socially awkward. I don't think at that time we understood that the collective whole was probably fueling this cycle of his being awkward. He never had a chance to shine, because there would always be someone around to put him down. Funny how someone who can overcome something like cancer can be completely helpless in overcoming social stigma from snotty tweens who really know nothing about life. I can't say I've kept in touch with many people from that phase of my life besides the odd person who has friended me on facebook. I don't even know if I'd recognize S. if I saw him today. I hope he's in a better place though, because we've hopefully all grown up a little.

S. you were so courageous to make it to school every day for 3 years without a friend by your side. I guess at that age you'd already experienced more than what some people will ever experience in terms of hardship. Your gentle demeanor was such a contrast to the self-created drama of the class. In some ways you were probably wise beyond your years. I wish I had gotten to know you better. 

twenty-eight: on a cold winter's night

Happy CNY! It's been a tumultuous start to a new year but I take it as things can only go up from here. I feel like so many things have been blindsiding me lately, that nothing really seems to jar me anymore. Thankfully I still do sometimes notice the little things and here's an entry to a person I met because we happened to notice him.

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I don't know how you manage to live in Winnipeg, a place that is for the most part covered in snow for a good chunk of the year. It's hardly accessible and easy to get around for those of us who are able bodied. Cars need to be plugged in, scraped, and coaxed into starting. Buses rarely ever run on time. Walking outside for anything more than 10 minutes results in nose hairs freezing and rosy cheeks. But here you are. 

There happened to be a blizzard that day, and no this is not the kind of snow storm that Torontonians whine about, this was full blow white out conditions all morning which meant oodles and oodles of snow everywhere. The kind of snow that makes changing lanes an art, and seeing over the snowbanks akin to playing Russian Roulette - you never know what's behind the snowbank until it's too late. You were out that night, on one of the busiest streets in the city in your wheelchair and stuck in a rut. I don't know how many people walked by or drove by before we made the choice to at least help you over your little hurdle. I hope it wasn't too many, because it was definitely an unpleasant night to be stuck outside.

You were so thankful, and I was ready to head back on my way until I realized there was no way you could make it home. You were so gracious and humble in accepting my help, and I wish I could be more like that sometimes. You knew your limitations, and you weren't afraid to ask for help and to receive it. You weren't looking for pity, but rather just a helping hand and some understanding. You were a bit rambly, but you really made me think about humanity that night. It's so easy to get wrapped up in our lives, our problems, our issues, our baggage that we completely miss out on how even a small act can make a difference in someone else's life. It's those moments that truly define who you are, and I'm so glad you helped me find a part of myself again. I know it sounds corny but you warmed me up that night more than the mini-donuts at the end of the skating trail.