You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed

I haven’t written so long that you’ve probably been wondering whether something tragic has happened to me.

Well, it has.

I don’t want to go into the grisly details, but here’s the upshot: a dear friend of mine died in an accident nearly two months ago. And I was there when it happened.

Yeah… I know you don’t know what to say to me. I wouldn’t know what to say to me either. It’s exactly as fucking awful as you’d expect. I hurt exactly as much as you imagine I do, and I’m not sure when or if the hurt will ever go away.

There was pre-accident me. And now there’s post-accident me. I’m still trying to figure out who post-accident me is, and how I’m supposed to be both her and a functioning member of society at the same time.

This blog is about loving life,  with or without a love life. You can see why I’ve been avoiding writing in it for so long.

Loving life? After going through this?

One part of me believes life is cruel and merciless and, frankly, kind of an asshole. Some people get to live long, boring lives. Others live extraordinarily rich, exciting lives and are rewarded with falling off a cliff at Age 30. Life is unfair and arbitrary and not worthy of my love.

Another part of me believes life is short and precious and must be savored. I feel this urgent need to love fiercely and fully, to leave nothing unsaid, to make every millisecond special. Life is beautiful and a blessing and worthy of every last drop of my love.

As you can see, I’m conflicted.

And my love life? Every problem I’ve ever complained about on this blog seems utterly ridiculous now. I thought I knew the meaning of heartbreak but I didn’t.

The one guy I was supposed to go on a date with — the one with two kids, whom I wasn’t so sure about to begin with — sent me a perfectly innocent email around the time of my friend’s funeral. I replied truthfully, explaining what happened and that he’d best leave me alone for a while. He’s respected my wishes.

I left another guy hanging, not replying to his repeated poetry-laden missives (six in one night!) To be fair, I probably wouldn’t have replied anyway. It was a bit much. He ended up Googling me to find out whether something tragic had happened to me and … surprise! He came across an obituary in which I am quoted. He sent an email titled “I’m so sorry” along with — you guessed it — more poetry. I told him to leave me alone please. Since then, he’s respected my wishes.

So, in one respect, my heart is closed. It’s under repair.

But a woman I met recently — who lost her brother in a horrific accident a year ago — had a different take. She said tragedies like the ones she and I went through break your heart, but they break your heart open.

They create space for new ideas and relationships to take root.

My heart has been broken open.

Someone read part of a Leonard Cohen song at my friend’s funeral, which I think echoes the same idea.

There is a crack, a crack in everything

That’s how the light gets in.

I’ve been reading The Little Prince over and over again lately. I picked up a copy because I needed something to read, and wanted something easy, without any crushing reality or violence. The words found their way through the cracks of my broken heart, and were perfect.

It was the part with the fox that really got to me.

You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed.