I went to my company’s function today. I had to hoof it cause my baby had prior engagements in the morning. After getting off the LIRR train station (Westbury) I walked to Post Ave and Railroad Ave and there was a Bristol Assisted Living Facility at the end of the street. And right across the street from it… a cemetery. How amazingly HORRIBLE. I would abhor living there. Can you imagine? Being elderly… having been put there by your family or maybe are there of your own volition… and ot the window… all you see… is your ultimate destiny. How morose.
After getting home, I had a brief discussion with my mom about death. She mentioned “well, ultimately, we all have to die”. I told her how I have been trying to come to terms with that fact. I found myself looking at my baby when he was doing something menial the other day. I think that he was just talking and I was looking at his lips and thinking how wonderful and full they are and how amazing they make me feel when he kisses me, or says “i love you” with them. Which was immediately followed by a thought of… oh gosh… one day, I’ll have to do without that. Be it a few years from now or decades. I may look up one day and find that I won’t have that anymore. I told her that and she said, you never know what can happen. She told me about my cousin Mara that got married… when I was dating J had to be a good 4 or 5 years ago. She’s gotten a divorce since. Because he didn’t want kids and she did. (Seems like that should have been a discussion to have b4 the wedding). And that my other cousin, Tatounne, who had gotten married years ago to an African man against her mother’s wishes has also gotten a divorce. Her mother (my cousin) died since their marriage but she had warned him about this man and how he wasn’t about anything and didn’t really love her. Turns out, he married her for the opportunity to get a green card and to get at her money. Getting one and finding there wasn’t much of the other… he bounced. All that to say, I guess… maybe his lips not being near may matter less to me one day than I think it would. It’s a possibility.
I remember thinking that my life would end if I wasn’t near Shawn. And I KNEW we’d get married. Every Sunday was torturous. I used to cry… because we’d be apart for a week. Silly. I rarely cry anymore about anything. I think about him so much these days. Probably because I’ve forced myself not to to talk to him. My brother was convinced that he still loved me. And that he would just need his space to get over me. All these years later. I could see it in his face when I saw him last year. But I worry about him. I hope he’s well. I hope someone really does love him and is all that he needs. And I mostly, hope that he’s made something with his life that he is proud of. We were in his area today and I had to stop myself from asking my friends to drive by his house. I just really want to know that he’s alright. But it’s best for me to stay away. *sigh* I’ll keep praying for him though. It’s hard to put 7 years of your formative years behind you.