The View from a Drawbridge

The random musings of a bridgetender with entirely too much time on her hands.

Xantolo

The View from a Drawbridge

One of my biggest regrets is not taking advantage of the opportunity to celebrate the Day of the Dead when I was living in Mexico. I didn’t understand what a cultural and spiritual treasure this celebration is, so I skipped it. Ever since then, I’ve been meaning to go back to have this experience, but …

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How’s this for bureaucracy? Yesterday my late boyfriend received a letter from an agency informing him that his case was closed because he was deceased. I’ll just let you absorb that for a second. When I opened the letter my first thought was, “I wonder if they’re expecting a response.” So what follows is the …

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A Day of Rememberance

April 12, 2014


Today is the day that they will scatter the ashes of Chuck Guerra, the man I loved most in the world. It will be done off the jetties on Hutchinson Island, Florida, because it was one of the places he loved most in the world.

We would walk out there and sit on a bench and watch the sun go down behind us. We’d watch the sandpipers run. If one of them ran in a straight line, Chuck would say, “That one’s you. Intent on your destination. Focused.” If one of them ran to and fro, I would say, “That one is you. All in a panic, not quite knowing how to sit still.” “Hey!” He’d say, and we’d both laugh.

We’d hold hands. Breathe the salt air. Those were some of the best moments in my life.

Our relationship was rocky. Passionately rocky. Because of that, some people are under the impression that I should just snap out of it. Move on. Apparently I’m not fitting in with their concept of how this should be going. I’m not feeling the way I should feel or behaving the way I should behave.

But I know what our relationship was, and I know what it meant to us both. I know that Chuck loved me, and I know I loved him. We’d talk about it as we lay in bed, facing each other, whispering. How lucky we were. How much we meant to each other. We weren’t always together. But we always came back to each other. And we always had each other’s backs.

We went through a lot of really hard times together. Some of the lowest points in both of our lives. Very often he was there when no one else was. And I was there for him. And that meant everything to both of us. So I will mourn in my own way, to my own agenda, as I have every right to do.

I don’t know how this ceremony today is going to play out, and I don’t know how I’ll be received, but at some point I will walk out on our jetty, alone, and I will tell Chuck just how much he meant to me. And it won’t be the first time or the last.

I put this song on my digital recorder, and I will play it as I look out on the ocean. If you’re getting this blog via e-mail and don’t see the youtube link below, you can see it here.

ART GARFUNKEL
“All I Know”
(Jimmy Webb)

I bruise you, you bruise me
We both bruise too easily, too easily to let it show
I love you and that’s all I know.

All my plans have fallen through,
All my plans depend on you, depend on you to help them grow,
I love you and that’s all I know.

When the singer’s gone let the song go on…

But the ending always comes at last,
Endings always come too fast,
They come too fast but they pass so slow,
I love you and that’s all I know.

When the singer’s gone, let the song go on,
It’s a fine line between the darkness and the dawn.
They say in the darkest night there’s a light beyond.

But the ending always comes at last,
Endings always come too fast,
They come too fast
But they pass so slow,
I love you, and that’s all I know.
That’s all I know, that’s all I know.

The LDS Church performs a wide variety of ordinances, some of which are called saving ordinances, which they believe are required for salvation. One such ordinance is called sealing, and it seals you to spouses and other family members for all eternity. Fine and dandy and more power to them, I say. Everyone is entitled …

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I was chatting with a coworker when he received a text message. “Whoa. My cousin just died.” I told him I was sorry for his loss, as you do. “Don’t be,” he said. “She was mean as a snake and hated my guts.” Once upon a time I might have been shocked by that response. …

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