there's no one in town I know

you gave us someplace to go
I never said thank you for that
I thought I might get one more chance
and what would you think of me now
so lucky, so strong and so proud
I never said thank you for that

It’s a strange thing when happiness comes upon you and you look around for the people you want to share it with and they aren’t there. There’s the sadness that comes from the people that are gone forever: Grandma Bonnie, you would love that I am in love (I’m not). You would be so happy that I dress like a girl and I don’t wear all black and I cooked a meal with four things in it. You would be so proud of me for not going back to him. You would love so much that Jake is back in school and more importantly, is actively happy. You’d hate that Zoe smokes pot but you’d love the way we’re navigating it. You would be so excited for all the things that are happening and you’d be quietly devastated by this diagnosis but so encouraging about the changes I’m making to accommodate it. You would love my life, as much as I love it, and would only wish that I didn’t swear so much.

There’s the strange wist that comes from the people that are gone by choice, who always come calling when you realize that you’re doing all the things that you talked about together, without them. Joe would love that I am going to Norway. He would fucking love it. In fact it might be the one thing that actually, finally convinced him that I am an interesting person. Maybe. Scott would love that I run the shit out of this department. He would be so proud of the fact that I didn’t quit and I didn’t kill anyone and I didn’t lose everything on the way (well, not everything.). He would say Of Course You Are. Of Course. Daniel would love that I smoke pot and not meth. That would thrill him to no end. That would be enough, probably, to get his attention without the attendant violence. That’s a thing that would be a miracle. And it makes me angry that I even think of them, when things go right. Angry. And I’m not sure why, seeing as how I have no problem thinking of them when things go wrong and I realize that I know why this is happening and it has their name all over it. Not anymore, though. The name all over it is mine, no matter what it is.

Then there’s the people that are there, right there, right where you can see them and feel them and thank them, that we may or may not take for granted and I hope that I don’t take anyone for granted. It’s so easy, when things are going poorly, to recognize the people that are getting you through it. It seems that it should be just as easy, when things are going well, to recognize the people that got you to it. There’s a recurring item in the Game of Thrones books (and yes I am aware that’s not what they’re actually called) where every night, before she falls asleep, Arya Stark whispers the names of the people that she would kill if she could, so that when the opportunity presents itself she doesn’t forget who they were. “Weese,” she would whisper, first of all. “Dunsen, Chiswyck, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling. The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Gregor, Ser Amory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei.” There is an entire segment of the population that, before they fall asleep, whisper the names of gods or idols or things that they want, so that they are forefront in their minds even while sleeping. To me, that sounds like My sister. The kids. Jason, Kalera, Maryjane. I do not know what I would do without you.