amy

today is the anniversary of the death of my lover, amy, in a car accident. 6 years now.

grief is not linear and it is unaware of how the rest of the world measures time. but this date is always a time for reflection. more than anything, a time to wallow in memories and appreciate her life.

last night i had an extended conversation with a friend who had also lost a lover in a car accident, the year before. our situations were so similar that there was profound recognition as we shared our histories. ... first lesbian love, the awakening into a new way of being, the intensity, the discoveries of unimaginable joys and delights ... and yet the complexity, the "should we really be doing this", the secrecy, the pleasures layered with doubt and shame ... and the brevity. then the shock, the horror, the disbelief, but then almost instantly, overlaid, instinctive, mandated silence, sealed with shame, repression of all feeling, energy spent comforting others instead of grieving ... the evasions, multiple and ever multiplying, "my friend", the uncertainty of what details could be shared, what lies needed to be perpetuated, who knew what truths, or what subtle shades of truth. and then slowly, grief surfacing at unexpected moments, as a car like hers passs by, or someone walks her walk, or has green socks, or shares some trivial detail with her, or something happens and i want her to know.

even now, i am unsure of who to share this whole part of my life with. because our story is hers too and she's not alive to tell me her thoughts.

happily, over time, the emotional landscape becomes less harsh, the complexities and doubts become washed over with a clarity of focus: the fact of love. love happens and it's magic. so today i am giving up feeling any more residual guilt, shame or doubt about what Amy and i shared. I loved her, and I know she loved me. That was beautiful, while it lasted, it was what life is about.