Today, as I write this, is my "berfday." I was born 53 years ago, according to my Mum. I'll take her word for it, as she was there, and I don't remember it. Besides, it's on my birth certificate.
That means it's four days until the 6th anniversary of one of the worst days of my life: the day Lisa died.
These days will remain linked for the rest of my life. One leads to the other. Bim bam.
Three years ago today, I did my best to join her. However, my stupidity prevented it. So here I am. Fifty three.
Fifty three is one of my friend R's favorite kinds of poker. "Fiddy three" he'll call when he deals. Been a while since I sat at the table with him. Last time I lost $20. We play low stakes, which is a courtesy to me as I can't afford the stakes my friends usually play.
So, I'm 53. I live in State College now, where I just started working on my PhD. I'm told it will take five years, so I'll be 58 when I graduate. Assuming I do.
My friend Jeanine did her PhD much faster than that. Her's was in American Studies, and she went to Penn State Harrisburg. I tried to follow in her footsteps, but didn't get accepted. She died before I was accepted to my current program. I miss her.
Now late at night. I'm tired. And I'm 53.
And I'm thinking of Lisa. Six long years since we last spoke, laughed, and hugged. I cried on her shoulder that final night. She was 52 when she died. I'm now older than she ever was. I remember reading a poem about how the fallen in battle will remain forever young. They never age. So it is with Lisa. 52 forever. Would she still have the same style? Would her hair have finally grown out enough to ditch wigs?
What would she say about me being here at PSU?
So many questions. No, I'm not "over" her death. Six years and the Pain is still a scar on my soul. I cant imagine how her widow, Sandy feels.
My birthday and her death. Forever intertwined.
It's now Saturday. I have a slight hangover. I'm doing laundry while watching the Penn State/Pitt game. I have a ton of reading to do yet, but it can wait until after the game.
Bestie/roomie Linda and I went to dinner at the Nittany Lion Inn using money from an "anonymous" gift. We then went down to Chumleys, an LGBT bar on College Ave. there we met a few people, including Sophia, who just started to realize her Truth. Someone told the bartender it was my (and a classmate's) birthday, so the whole bar sang to us. We left relatively early.
So. Life continues. Thanks to all those who sent me birthday wishes. I don't deserve you.
A wave and huggses to Joanne and Ellen, both of whom recognized me from this blog within an hour of each other on College Ave last night. I was deeply moved. Thanks.
That means it's four days until the 6th anniversary of one of the worst days of my life: the day Lisa died.
These days will remain linked for the rest of my life. One leads to the other. Bim bam.
Three years ago today, I did my best to join her. However, my stupidity prevented it. So here I am. Fifty three.
Fifty three is one of my friend R's favorite kinds of poker. "Fiddy three" he'll call when he deals. Been a while since I sat at the table with him. Last time I lost $20. We play low stakes, which is a courtesy to me as I can't afford the stakes my friends usually play.
So, I'm 53. I live in State College now, where I just started working on my PhD. I'm told it will take five years, so I'll be 58 when I graduate. Assuming I do.
My friend Jeanine did her PhD much faster than that. Her's was in American Studies, and she went to Penn State Harrisburg. I tried to follow in her footsteps, but didn't get accepted. She died before I was accepted to my current program. I miss her.
Now late at night. I'm tired. And I'm 53.
And I'm thinking of Lisa. Six long years since we last spoke, laughed, and hugged. I cried on her shoulder that final night. She was 52 when she died. I'm now older than she ever was. I remember reading a poem about how the fallen in battle will remain forever young. They never age. So it is with Lisa. 52 forever. Would she still have the same style? Would her hair have finally grown out enough to ditch wigs?
What would she say about me being here at PSU?
So many questions. No, I'm not "over" her death. Six years and the Pain is still a scar on my soul. I cant imagine how her widow, Sandy feels.
My birthday and her death. Forever intertwined.
At the Nittany Lion Inn
It's now Saturday. I have a slight hangover. I'm doing laundry while watching the Penn State/Pitt game. I have a ton of reading to do yet, but it can wait until after the game.
Bestie/roomie Linda and I went to dinner at the Nittany Lion Inn using money from an "anonymous" gift. We then went down to Chumleys, an LGBT bar on College Ave. there we met a few people, including Sophia, who just started to realize her Truth. Someone told the bartender it was my (and a classmate's) birthday, so the whole bar sang to us. We left relatively early.
So. Life continues. Thanks to all those who sent me birthday wishes. I don't deserve you.
Linda at dinner
A wave and huggses to Joanne and Ellen, both of whom recognized me from this blog within an hour of each other on College Ave last night. I was deeply moved. Thanks.
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