My friend Rosie died.
People keep talking to me about work and their problems and life and I keep looking at them thinking “my friend Rosie died, why aren’t you sad?”
She was amazing. Strong. Beautiful. Funny. Ridiculously intelligent. She had a heart that was too big for one person, it overflowed from her onto others.
She was wise. When I was falling apart, torn at the seams, she gave me words that made me strong and that played over and over in my head. I thought “I hope I am as wise as you one day.”
She was a warrior princess. Tougher than anyone I have ever known. Courageous seems too simple a word for her.
She had eyes that looked into the deepest part of you, and you could try and hide what was really going on inside, but she would reach in, pull the truth out and hug it.
Her laugh was like listening to a playground of children, it filled you with joy and hope and rainbows.
The whole world should be sad. Everyone should be in mourning. Flags should be flying at half mast.
We lost a superwoman. It is a space that will never be filled.
She is my hero forever more.
Once I fell in love madly. Love at first sight. We were flawed, with open wounds. We went our separate ways, searching for ourselves.
Once I fell in love slowly and steadily in a friendship that blossomed and grew. Two people finding out how to love ourselves and somehow in between our love entwined and created a bond.
I did not fall in love with two different people. I fell in love with one person twice.
I fell in love with crazy singing in the car, shared pizzas, running naked through waterfalls, sliding in mud. I fell in love with a person who wasn’t afraid of his dreams no matter how daunting, a person who challenges my insecurities, forces me to grow by leaping despite fear. I fell in love with the way he holds my hand, and laughs at me and with me. I fell in love with the way he doesn’t laugh at me falling over things that aren’t there, nor does he run to rescue me from my clumsiness, but rather how he just holds out his hand to help me up.
I fell in love with a mind speeding faster than mine, with a multitude of open google tabs, literally and figuratively. I fell in love with the way he says “I understand” and means it. I love the way he hugs me so hard I cannot breathe, the way he pulls me close when I lest expect it. The way he runs his fingers up my spine when he is standing close.
I fell in love with the quiet moments where nothing was said, but the silence didn’t matter. I fell in love with the way he gently brushes my hair from my face as I am falling asleep and the way he calls me beautiful first thing in the morning and tells me my hair is “full bodied” when it in fact looks like a mini chewbacca is attached to my head.
I love talking about everything and nothing. I love the small things and the moments that are just ours. I love the way he forgives and tries to understand everyone rather than judge them.
I am in love with my best friend.
I am bound and weighted and powerless to stir
Why in such imminence to the spirit;
do I appreciate yet abhor so much of what it is that makes me human;
Why in such closeness to love and peace;
do I learn to know myself and suffer veracity;
Why do I hide the truth of my soul in protection of others,
why do I feel such feelings unsolicited and unreciprocated;
Why do I know truth when denial crafts such beautiful veils
Why does my physical being ache so in denying my heart;
Is it blessed to endure the torment and cruelty of such human failings?
Solutions are intangible to me as I am;
But so I live;
It is not allowed for me
Such wonder is not my reward.
The desires and needs of my mind body and soul are not permitted;
Am I destined to be without as lessons of my frailty failings and imperfections are reminded to me each moment of each breath I inhale.
And yet I hope
although content in heart and mind
in the fleeting moments
as slumber joins hand with wakefulness
the heart hopes
that somewhere, sometime
I will reach out and feel the warmth
and beating pulse of the person that I can call home. © Christie Marie Kruger
Is a Portuguese and Galacian word for a feeling of nostalgic longing for something or someone that one was fond of and which has been lost. It often carries a fatalistic tone and a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never really return. It was once described as “the love that remains” or “the love that stays” after someone is gone.
I have had a few days where I have been reminded of the power of words. Slam poets and friend’s beautiful prose which reached inside me and slammed my heart against my brain. Why did stop writing. I know the answer but it’s hard to admit, to admit that I don’t process emotion like I used to. Broken hearts and corporate coldness taught me to handle emotion differently. During my “wild” years my emotions ran high and low and twisted about like a tornado in an empty field. I say my wild years, but I think those were my honest years. For thirty one years I was ruled by my heart and then I chose my head as CEO. So was it the words of others that prompted me to write? Perhaps, I know those words got me thinking. The final push was today learning that my “first love”, “long lost love”, “the one that got away”, told me he has become a dad. For seventeen years I have held onto this small sliver of hope. For seventeen years he has come to me in my dreams. Then I saw the word “saudade”. As is oft the case translation loses a words true emotional state, the translation I found ripped me to the core. When I heard the news I drowned in saudade and there I found a part of me that I had lost.
So I lost “the one” and I looked around and thought what else have I lost that I should have been holding onto and the answer slammed me backwards into myself and I thought where do I put these feelings, what do I do with the tears I cannot cry? Is there any more space in me to put emotion into boxes that remain unopened and unacknowledged? No. There is no more space, my feelings have to find freedom. So welcome to my blog. A place I hope I can be myself, and feel all that I feel. This is no place for boxes and rules and limits. This is my heart in words.