deep in the ocean, there lies a wave for you

I am turning my story into a book, really for real. I’ve set aside time and started working on it. Guess what? It’s hard.

I am in such a good place right now. Even before Clark died, I was never this sure of who I am. I know what I want and what I’m capable of achieving. But … reading old emails from a time when that was so not the case is painful and embarrassing! Here’s a bit I sent to Cella a week or two after I met Clark:

“And then there’s clark. who is bad news bears. he picked me up at the black cat, he’s 31, divorced, FUCKING HOT AS HELL, and is the lead singer of a DC band. he calls me once every five days or so, we get drunk, have sex, eat and watch movies. then he ignores me. if i could count on
him, he’d be my favorite, but he’s totally dicking me around. at least i’m aware of it, and, well, have other options.”

It’s hard to imagine a time where the contents of that email were the truth!

I am so very different, which is such a relief, but man.

I’m also dating someone whom I care about so much. He is overwhelmingly wonderful. I’m reading through old journal entries and notes I emailed to myself, and here’s one from April:

Subject: Dream 4/15/11

Body: This morning I woke up after a dream in which I had just met a person whom I was attracted to, and he liked me back. There were three occasions on which we saw each other in the dream, and on the second one he hugged me and said, “I missed you so much!” He was blond, tall, handsome and shy. He didn’t look like Clark, but I think it was just like when Clark and I first met. Katie Volin was there, and witnessed when he said the thing about missing me. I felt in love with him in the dream, and I felt that he loved me, too. I felt sad all day about it, and looked at men on the street to see if I felt a spark of attraction to them. I didn’t, but I feel this, “He’s out there!” in my body. A sad longing for the theoretical him.

Bridesmaids reference time!

Helen: Oh, she certainly enjoys playing tennis now. It’s funny how people change, isn’t it?
Annie: Yeah. I mean, I don’t know. Do people really change?
Helen: Mmm. I think they do.
Annie: Yeah. But I mean like, still stay who they are, pretty much.
Helen: I think we change all the time.
Annie: I think we stay the same, but grow I guess, a little bit.
Helen: I think if you’re growing, then you’re changing.
Annie: But I mean we’re changing from who we are, which we always stay as.
Helen: Not really. I don’t think so.
Annie: I think so.
Helen: I don’t.

People are responding to my article in GOOD, which is now available online. This one comment in particular struck me:

“Rebecca, I know you’re young, and only spent a short time with Clark, but as long as you have these messages, you’ll never really lose him… Dealing with loss is never easy at any age, but your story shows so much grace under pressure, on the part of you both, I have been truly moved, and for that I thank you. The fact that something so mundane as a bunch of emails has connected you in such a transcendent way to the man you love, you’ve shown a beautiful facet to what is otherwise a horrible tragedy, and I’m honored to have read this story. Thank you.”

This guy’s thanking ME?

Some readers are Tweeting about and commenting on how sad the story is, but some of my friends have said they didn’t even cry when they read it. They sensed my relief in putting it together. Writing it was like successfully completing a puzzle. I’ve felt content the past few days because people are reading my words. More people than ever before know how much I love Clark.

That’s not to say that I’m not going to fucking bawl my eyes out when I see 50/50 on September 30. I can’t wait / am dreading it.

Today is the anniversary of the day I met Clark. I’m honoring the day not by acknowledging it as a reminder of how curious, hopeful and confident I was walking home from the bar after giving him my phone number, but by recognizing that lately I am feeling, for the first time since he died, the very same way. The excitement of possibility has slowly come back. I’m mourning my sadness a little bit, but I don’t feel guilty that it has diminished. I’m doing right by him to enjoy my life and to appreciate when things are good.