Winter

Sometimes, there isn’t much to be said. Sometimes, there is too much. I haven’t written since October because a world of things have happened and yet very little has changed. A world creating and dissolving, and yet constant.

We returned from New York. There were editorial comments made by people who have not actually read my work themselves but felt compelled to speak about it. They didn’t like not being portrayed as heroes? Overwhelmed, confused, and frankly quite angry, I stopped writing altogether. I had hoped to pause for a conversation about it, but it never happened.

There are no heroes. Winter was harsh and long and dark. Geoff got worse.

Most people vanish in conflict. They fear saying the wrong thing. They feel useless. But mostly, I think people are just afraid. And despite the many sincere expressions of concern, very few people actually try to connect with us now. Dismayed perhaps by what Geoff has become, they stay away. Preferring to remember him as he was, younger, unstoppable, dauntless and fearless? To not see him as he is now? But, he is still here – and it is just us now. We three and our dog.

No doubt, I will hear protests about this comment as I did just a few weeks ago. “We haven’t abandoned you!” I was told. Yet, they don’t call. They don’t email. And even though they were here – they never spoke to Geoff about anything other than baseball. How is that not abandonment? It feels like it.

I don’t think that any reasonable person expects to be rescued from their life. Love, however, be it familial or friendly or passionate, hopes for presence. We hope to not be left alone in the dark, even if all there is to do is to be present.

That is what we have left. Presence. The three of us and our dog, together. For as long as it lasts.

 

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