A comma, not a period.
The first thing you'll probably notice is how well-composed this group selfie is.
That's because I took it, and I am very good at taking group selfies. My left arm, like that one foot of that one Daniel Day-Lewis character, is very dexterous and surprisingly lengthy.
The other thing you might notice is that the people contained within this frame do not appear happy. Or rather, joyful. There is not a song in these hearts, or if there is, it is likely a Black Heart Processional song, or maybe one of more Adele's more weepy ones, which would be pretty much anything she's ever sung.
My dear brother Jonny and his beloved, Meilani, are moving. At this point, they have moved. Rather, they have left; departed with a trailer full of mostly unnecessary belongings, and their bunny, to the locale of Toronto. Toronto, Canada. A 38-hour drive away, according to maps, which means probably 48 hours with a trailer, and 96 hours if there were children involved. There are not, unless they impregnate themselves along the way, which I have strongly urged them to do.
For many years, I have told my siblings:
I want you to be where you need to be. I always want you geographically close, but more importantly, I want you to be where you
to be, to follow your dreams and the path to achieving your dreams, and sometimes that means sacrifices that take you physically away from your family. But you gotta do it.
And I will support those decisions even when they're painful. And this was so painful. And when I say
, what I mean is...
is. Will be
. I'm still in denial and it hasn't really sunk in yet. It will.
I don't know the number of times Jonny and I have talked on average per day for the last decade, and I don't know the average length of those different conversations, but they would be interesting numbers to analyze.
Little tiny talks, many many times, most frequently about mundane topics that have no introduction and no ending and generally conclude with abrupt:
Talk to you in five minutes.
Okay, love you, talk to you in four.
Lots of little ones. Little, guilt-free, trivial conversations that have laid a bedrock for the occasional more substantive ones that deep-rooted relationships are built on.
It's so hard saying goodbye. I had to say goodbye to one of my other best friends several months ago, and her absence is still such a big hole. Now the hole's bigger.
#thatswhatshesaid #michaelscott Funny television to make me laugh even when I don't want to.
I've always been pretty good at making goals and finding little things to look forward to. I've lost some of that skill though. Trying to get it back.
It's a cliche that 'change is hard.' But I think the hardest kind of change to face is when everything seems to be changing around you and you want to change, but the brutal heel of reality makes the steps toward active change seem so difficult and almost impossible.
I do believe in that idea that you absorb the mores, attitudes, philosophies, etc. of the six people or so you spend the most time around. That's a powerful concept, and a lot to unwrap. The influence of those you're surrounded by.
Who will step in?
Or, who will I find to step in?
Or, will I wait for someone to step in, or will I charge ahead, facing change, finding the track back to dreams I've had, continuing to assist in others' actively along the way?
I hope that one. I'll try. It's hard, when you love someone so much to let them go and face their dreams. I wanna be a support system, a cheerleading squad; I wanna build the best thing possible from afar, and hope that it'll be near again soon.
There's not some big inspiring wrap-up to this. Change happens. You either flight it, fight it, or accept it. Or ignore it.
I'm proud of those who charge forward and make change happen. Thanks for being an influence on my life and others and carpe dieming the flipping lights out of life.
Anyway. All the love. Thanks ahead of time to the Postal Service, Pony Express, and FaceTime. And cheap airline tickets.