“It’s just life,” you said, well kind of said, but rather text messaged, and you are right. I would never argue with that. We are born dying. Sooner or later it comes for all of us. But this was different because she was in her early 40s. This one was different because she knew about it for less than two months. This one is different because one day she was at work and the next day she was not. She spent that day finding out that she had stage 4 ovarian cancer, and then she began dying faster than she had ever done in her life. And the very next day we would all find out at work. And then we would slowly start to realize that there are no more happy hours with Diane. There’s no more of the rye humor, the cutting scowl and the big smile. There would be no more feminist editorials or parties out on the farm. It’s also different because she was just about to finish the process for adopting a child when she found out she was rotting on the inside. The news today settled like heavy, dark dust all over the newsroom. We still did our jobs but the conversation on the elevator didn’t even take on the normal mindless chatter about the weather etc.
I saw my friend Mark out front of the building and he said, “It sucks when they take one of the good ones.” I said, “Especially the good ones.” Then he surprised me and said, “Maybe she will come back.” I said, “Maybe.”
I don’t know why you call me when you are drunk. Maybe you are looking for something that I might be able to give. Maybe you feel like you love me during those times. Maybe you don’t even know that you are doing it.
I feel like that a lot when I am not drunk. I want to call. To talk with you all night. I don’t want you to fix anything. We both know that has and will fail. I just sometimes want to talk about these things, and the joyous things as well. I do feel like much of my life is spent being hermetically sealed these days, not by choice, but by necessity and circumstance. No one wants to take the time, I find, the older we get.
I was silly to ask for the ice cream tonight. I know that. I just am starting to hate having no one around to talk about my day with on a regular basis, and I am inclined to (likely futilely) shove you into that role.
I say none of this to guilt you, or get you to feel one way or another. I say it because it is what’s on my mind. It may have been what I would’ve said, or possibly not said over ice cream tonight, and maybe I wouldn’t have gotten the bad case of the stupids that I am sure feels like deja vu to you.
I am not your responsibility.
I just hoped, and I believe this is possible, that ice cream and conversation can on certain occasions make “it’s just life” a little easier to bear.
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