Author: ferylfiles

Yesterday evening, Mary, and her roommate, Jeremy, came over to make bagels. Jeremy got here a little earlier and we started right off with the hallowed and much-Lubbers-lauded jalapeno cheddar bagels, Then we made a batch of everything bagels. Finally we finished with a batch of plain. Of course we sampled the jalapeno cheddar ones as our dinner. I reference these often enough that should any reader care to make them, here is the link to the recipe: https://www.sophisticatedgourmet.com/2009/10/new-york-style-bagel-recipe/

Threaded throughout the evening was a continuation of our family tradition, sharing songs we love or find novel or timely. Jeremy and I discussed how much we both liked Postmodern Jukebox, particularly this cover of Radiohead’s “Creep.” Then I encouraged/made/forced? Mary and Jeremy to listen to Mac Davis’ “Hard to be Humble.” Surprisingly, Jeremy already knew it and could sing along, which tickled me to no end. We threaded in a couple of pieces from the Broadway musical Book of Mormon, particularly “Turn It Off” which had us in absolute stitches. Mary then introduced me to Bardcore–a very bored attorney during Covid decided to do Medieval-style covers of pop tunes and I was frankly blown away by the clever creativity.

I think it’s so appropriate that we use the term “play music.” My mom once gave me this cute little booklet with charming drawings about the importance of play. To play and delight in and celebrate have always been part of who I am determined to be. While I am slammed with aching pangs of grief throughout my days and nights, these moments of play seem even more vital to survival.

I catch myself taking shallow breaths, particularly when I’m by myself. I can feel my tongue tighten on the roof of my mouth. My jaw clenches. Flashes of memory come into my mind, some welcome, some so haunting I stop breathing altogether. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Repeat.

My dad passed on this date four years ago. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

We still have details to finish for Bryan’s service. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

Another day with him gone. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.

I’ve been dreading these milestones, but my family and friends have done a bang-up job to remind me that I’m loved and there is still so much in life to celebrate–family, friends, cats, cake, friends’ successes, spring, art, creativity, humor, love.

First things first–Mary has just come back from a conference for librarians and library staff in Washington state where she rocked a presentation and an evening break-out session. I don’t think there’s any greater gift than to see your kid happy and full of purpose and hear the pride in her voice.

Yesterday, a small bunch of us gathered at our friends’ place for a birthday brunch. It was the perfect size for this introvert. I had a couple of tearful hiccups wishing Bryan were there. The food, conversation, company, cards, gifts were exceptional and full of love and humor.

Today, both my brother, Craig, and sister, Emilie, celebrated with me in their own, loving ways. Craig made the bagels, the ones we had made when he was here, for his family. I love that so much. Emilie and I listened to Ella Fitzgerald, Billy Joel, and Elton John most of the day while painting watercolors for our Mom’s fundraiser in May. I think we painted for about eight hours–a blissful way to get out of my own head. A friend dropped by with gorgeous flowers. Another friend came with a piece of cake from the Patisserie (can you tell I like it there?)

Text messages, messages on Facebook and Instagram, cards–people have been so incredibly loving with their words and actions and I feel it. Boy do I ever. The tears happen often, so do the dancing and singing.

Bryan and I loved cooking together. Whether it was throwing big dinner parties or just making our weeknight meals, we enjoyed being in the kitchen and composing together. Moving around the kitchen was like a graceful waltz with frequent affectionate touches and butt grabs. While Bryan was sick, I was in the kitchen alone. It was another way his cancer put a line under the things we were losing. I enjoyed making him every delicious thing he asked for or I had the energy to make. But cooking for me, or cooking for joy was not the same. That’s part of loss and grief that is so hard to grapple with. I knew who I was with him. I knew what it looked like to cook meals with him. Here is a new reality. He is gone. Who am I in this space without his physical presence? Without him grabbing my ass as we sweep by each other?

Tonight I had friends over for a meal. Part of me was dreading it, I’m a little ashamed to admit. I was a cook and host with Bryan. I am also a cook and host now, too. There are questions of betrayal for moving on or for doing things that we loved together without him. But I’m still here. And I love to cook. So I did. And it was good.

I made this: https://www.lecremedelacrumb.com/oven-baked-chicken-thighs/#wprm-recipe-container-48122 with some roasted carrots and jasmine rice. I can tell you if a recipe has butter and heavy cream, you probably won’t be disappointed. It may wrap around your heart like a hug, but life is flipping short. Eat cream and butter. I served Adamant’s albarino to accompany. My friends brought a salad. We had a special gateau from the Patisserie for dessert. Conversation was lively and lovely. This home Bryan and I worked so hard to make warm, cheerful, and welcoming still is. It’s different. I wish he were here. But I am still here and I will continue the things that we both loved because I love them.

Bryan loved the original Star Trek and I enjoyed watching it with him. His fondness for Spock is legendary. Mary’s mom once made him a costume for Halloween. We still have the prosthetic ears and glue somewhere in a bathroom cupboard. Bryan often echoed Spock’s cool logic and reason. He could engage with all sorts of people and use his analytical mind and rational persuasion to change opinions or at least cause some to reassess their opinions, no mean feat.

My favorite character, however, is Bones. The temperamental, Southern doctor is all passion and temper supported by intelligence and wit. I find it delightful how well matched Bryan and I were. And the best part is that Bryan was passion and temper, too. And I could be cool reason when the moment called.

That struggle between brain and heart is well-traveled terrain because that’s the whole of the human experience, isn’t it? I am overwrought with grief and guilt that my heart, my love was not enough to heal the person I loved most in the world. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t. And I tried. My brain gently insists, um Becci, no one can heal what Bryan had. But my heart is having a hard time hearing it.