No dying. June 6, 2007

This is just pointing out the obvious, but I’m the irrational one in the relationship. I’m the one who, late, in bed, after Stewart and Colbert and some fooling around, will blurt out “you can’t die!” followed by some tears and some sniffles, apropos of absolutely nothing except maybe the onset of my period.  
 
I’m emotional. M is a solid consoler. It works. 
 
He came home last night around 1am. I woke up to his arms wrapped around me, him watching me sleep.  
 
“Hi there,” I said, willing myself to wake up and enjoy a few minutes with my boy. 
 
He put his hands on my face. “I love you. I just think you should know that,” he said with such seriousness that it startled me.  
 
Of course - me being Ms. Gloom and Doom - I got suspicious. “Why? I mean, I know that you love me, of course I know that you love me (I recently found out that you bought a diamond, you fool - Ed. Note), but why, what’s wrong?” 
 
M launched into a story about how he got to talking with a colleague of his. The conversation turned to plans for the weekend and the colleague mentioned that he has a charity tennis tournament to attend. In fact, it’s his charity’s tennis tournament.  
 
“You started a charity tennis tournament?” M asked. “Good man.” 
 
“Well, my wife died twelve years ago. I started a charity in her name.” 
 
It hit M so hard, that conversation.  
 
“Clink.” He was lying on his back; I was curled up alongside him, my face buried in his neck. “It’s just - this guy had plans, you know? Plans with his wife. Who ever thinks that the person you’re going to marry is going to die?” 
 
Then, borrowing from me and one of my many emotional outbursts, he said, calmly, “You can’t die. OK? No dying.” 
 
I promised that I would do my best.  
 
It’s hard, this love thing. The fear of it all being taken away is the price paid for allowing yourself to fall. For me, for a while, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. I let trust issues overwhelm and overtake and I was sure that it would all be taken away not by death but by someone else - someone thinner, prettier, more successful.  
 
Now, not so much. Now it’s more about God, the Universe, Whatever reaching down and ruffling a smoothly laid out life, a life with concrete plans. A life that does not work if one element - the most important element - is missing. 
 
I’m still feeling the aftereffects, I guess, of the funeral. M is certainly still feeling the aftereffects of his conversation. This will pass, I’m sure, and we’ll go on floating through life, believing that it won’t happen to us because what other way is there to live? As much as the Culture of Fear is alive and kickin’ (“these are people who want to kill your families,” to paraphrase our president), I won’t buy into it for longer than a few chunks at a time. Enough time to reflect and thank God, the Universe, Whatever for what I have. But not long enough to stop me from living.