anniversary

Not much for me to say today, except that I am glad I have met all of you here in blog-land. You have made a difference in my life. I could list all of you and tell you specifically what difference you have made, but that would make for a LONG post. I used to do that every August, but this seems as good a time as any.

In August of 1995, I "celebrated" the end of my first marriage. We were still friends, and are still on good terms when we see each other these days. I am lucky that way. Anyway, I thought what better way to demarc the time than with a ritualized funeral. Wierd, yes, but I wasn't the same me anymore. I had changed, the crysalis had been broken through and the new butterfly emerged. Rather, the fire had burned me down to the bones and then some, and I had come back whole again. Funeral seemed in order. I always did have a sense of the macabre.

It was a Friday. A friend of mine played Death, came and found me unawares, handed me a bullet and drove me off in his black car. Drove me back to my own house. I got re-dressed. Everything was ready. I laid down on a table set up for it and the wake began. M wailed his trombone, M'Lady Jupiter. Friends spoke as if I were really gone. People cried. And everyone came and said goodbye to me. Each person told me something special, something you shouldn't wait till someone dies to tell them. I wanted so badly to tell them something back, but I wasn't speaking. Only listening. Listening with ears from eternity.

The crowd dispersed, and another good friend and I went to get my tattoo. It's a phoenix, tribal style, designed by my artist husband (would be ex in a few months). We holed up in a cheap hotel till Sunday putting the special anti-bacterial ointment on the fresh ink. We talked about life and men, trying to figure both out. Sunday I met the rest of my friends and let them know I was back. No, no delusions of messianic status, the timing just seemed right. Plus I had to work Monday. Three is a magic number, I learned that from School House Rock, so three days it was. That Sunday I had a lot of catching up to do. I sat each friend down and let them know how they had affected me over the time we had known each other. I told them how they were special in my life.

From that point on, I made a point of doing this each August. I fell slack the past few years and I am not proud of that. Just know that each of you is special to me. Seriously. If you need to know how, drop me a note and I will tell you. And don't forget to tell the people in your life what they mean to you. Before one of you is gone. It doesn't have to be mushy or overly dramatic. But it is awfully nice to know what impact you have had on other people.

Aw look, this ended up being a LONG post anyway. And I still have that bullet.