there she goes

April 25, 2012

There go the vitamins and the Volvo and some pots and pans and dishes and the rug upstairs that I always thought was more expensive than it is and the flatware and the olive wood spatulas and the coffee grinder and the box of 1000 receipts and the yoga mats and meditation cushions and just about everything in the 2nd story closet and bathroom, including copious amounts of boots and shoes. It is amazing all the things you can and cannot pack into a Volvo station wagon and then repack the next day to try to gain some visibility. It definitely was sitting lower in the back when she drove off.

I will miss you, RU. More than I can ever really express or probably want to express here. Although I’m sure at times I will try. You have been part of my everyday life, on and off, for almost 10 years. And even in the off time, you were part of my every week life, except for about 4 weeks when we didn’t talk or email or text at all, and that seemed like an eternity. I will miss being part of your every day life, too. It is amazing how much the every things have been so impactful in a good way. I don’t think impactful is a word.

Yes, change is constant. Nothing stays the same. Things come and go. Right. I know all of that. I believe all of that. And still I am a little stunned by the experience of it. I think that’s right though, the stunnedness. Especially because I can shut down.

I miss you right now and you’ve only been gone for about 5 hours. Be safe. Be well. I will see you soon and then I can miss you all over again.


5 responses to “there she goes”

  1. A.M. O'Malley says:

    well spoken, the tangible things left or taken seem to underline the whole experience. I’m sorry Liz. Thinking of you and looking forward to seeing you soon. XXXOO

  2. David Summitt says:

    You and had a conversation about 10+ years ago – I cannot remember whom was consoling whom – but the core of the conversation revolved around the concept of the souls journey being a rope and the trick was not to tie knots – to be in the feeling, being in it as you pass through it but do not anchor to it, I cannot remember the exact victim of our plagiarism, but there is a slowness in sadness and a great velocity in joy that when objectively measured in time they are, more often than not, equal. If you want to talk call – I may call you anyways – so excited to see you!

  3. Indigo Friedlander says:

    Wish I could think of something profound and comforting to say right now but words seem quite inadequate. So I’ll just say I love you. Always.

  4. liz says:

    Those are some of the sweetest and most thoughtful comments. I’m lucky to have such caring friends.

    RU is moving down to the Bay Area and our relationship is in transition. Transition to what exactly remains to be seen? It is a profound change, but strangely, in a way, it doesn’t seem like that big a deal. I suppose because RU and I have such a strong bond and because I am here doing the same things – going to work, taking care of the cats, seeing my friends, living in our house where very little has changed except certain things of RU’s are going . . . anyway. You all are very sweet.

  5. » important shit for me to remember says:

    […] Including “RU moved to the Bay area” in that above list does not at all capture the earthquake like significance of the event. Everything changed. […]

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