Monthly Archives: July 2008

So Sorry!

Sorry for the delay.  I was going to write something while I was out of town, but I ended up being too busy.  Being Matron of Honor in your little sister’s wedding is pretty tough. However, next week will resume as usual. Come back then and I promise there will be a fabulous new entry awaiting you.

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Matron of Honor Speech

I am out of town this week for my little sister’s wedding. I’m her Matron of Honor, so naturally I had to write a little something to say at the reception.  In order to save myself unneeded stress I decided to post my speech as my blog this week.  So enjoy! It’s really short…

My little sister is my best friend. As we grew up we got to know each other pretty well.  She’s seen me through some very fun times and some very tough times.  She’s always been close by cheering me on ore telling me exactly how it is. So when she asked me to be her Matron of Honor I knew there was only  one answer. My sister is an integral part of my life so I could only hope that the guy she ended up with was someone I liked.

Turns out she’s got good taste. Matt is wonderful to Elise.  He treats her with respect, but knows how to have a good time. Some of my favorite recent memories include her, Matt and Jordan. I’m so happy to be supporting her and Matt. I know they will be blessed. Congratulations little sister!  I love you!

My Best Friend James

I have tried many times to write about my friend James and many times the writing has come out sounding forced, and choppy. The thoughts don’t flow well and I guess that’s what I get, because I try to make it sound light hearted. There’s nothing light hearted about it. Then to compensate I delve too deep, where nothing makes sense. As a result the writing is unbalanced and broken up, taking incredible leaps and dives.

This is going to be my last try at writing about it. After this attempt it will all be confined to my personal journals.

James has been dead for ten years now. The feeling that he wasn’t really dead has finally gone away. For the longest time it felt like he was just away. It seemed as though he was just far, far away. I kept expecting to see him places. I kept expecting him to show up one day and say it was all a façade; he just needed to escape for awhile. I know exactly when that feeling deserted me. It was the summer of 2002. I was in Ireland/Northern Ireland on a mission trip through SPU. I was walking down the streets of Ballylinney and I swore I saw him making his way towards me. My heart leapt to my throat, my pace quickened, a huge smile broke out on my face and then as I got closer I realized it wasn’t James, because James was dead. In fact there wasn’t even anyone walking towards us. I had imagined him there.

That’s when it was final in my mind. Not at his memorial service, not a week afterwards, not when he wasn’t at my graduation, but in 2002 on the streets of a small village in Northern Ireland. I was with walking with my mission team and had a hard time holding back the tears that suddenly sprang into my eyes.

I don’t think I told anyone about that for a long time. I felt like an idiot; I was mourning for a person I didn’t really feel was gone. I was dealing with my grief, but deep in my heart I wondered if he was really gone.

I wrote a lot after James died. I wrote about him a lot directly and indirectly. I made a few people angry with what I wrote, but I didn’t care. I thought he’d be pleased with what I wrote. He always liked my writing, so I kept writing and sharing with anyone who wanted to read what I wrote. I thought I had to keep my creative juices flowing just in case he showed up unexpectedly and wanted to read something new.

James would show up unexpectedly in my dreams. Those dreams would catch me off guard and make me angry since he wasn’t around when I woke up. The worst were the ones that were so vivid and real. I’d wake up wishing I were in some sort of coma so I could live in a dream forever. I still have dreams about James. Although now when I see him I know I’m dreaming, but I still wish I wasn’t. Even with how well things are now, I still wish he was around. The dreams don’t make me angry anymore. I actually like the dreams now. They are so rare and I can’t be sure that his voice is right, but I’m still so thankful for them. That’s what I miss most, his calm voice; like music to a wild beast.

This makes my grief sound so current as if I’m brooding about the past. I’m not. That sharp, sharp grief that clouded me for so long has finally dulled itself down. It still hurts when I think about James and wonder for a split second what he’s doing, then realize what I’m actually thinking, but it’s not cutting and it’s not constant.

Not constant and yet it is; it has everything to do with who I am today. What I struggle with, how I trust people or don’t trust them, my interactions and my fears. It impacts so much of how my life is now that I can’t help but wonder what things would have been like if he’d never died. I have theories, but I can never know for sure.

One thing I can say with confidence is that James would have been pleased with how my life has turned out. Love was important to him and I am truly loved.

The Tale of One Love

Last week you all heard about my two worst relationships in the confusing and convoluted world of love. So this week after much procrastination and pondering I’ve decided to write about my single best experience of love; my hubby Jordan. Probably one of the most long-enduring people ever, followed closely by my sister and parents.

I met my husband for the first time my sophomore year of college. He was cute so naturally I tried pursuing him. The SPU experience is not very conducive to dating. When I was there the ratio was three women for every one man; nice for the guys, downright crappy for the ladies.

We went out to coffee a few times. He was nice, really nice actually. I’d never gone for nice guys before so it was strange that my interest in him didn’t wane after I found out he was so dang nice. He was a likeable, popular guy and had many, many school activities going on. With him being so busy and me being so timid about calling or emailing our relationship never went beyond friendship; that is until our senior year.

My roommate (and mutual friend) worked at the Seattle Repertory Theatre and offered us some tickets to go see Over the Moon. We both really wanted to see it, so my roomie slyly suggested we go together.

That was the night Jordan fell for me. The conversation was constant and interesting, but it had been that way a few times before. I wasn’t expecting much by way of response. So I was heartily surprised when I received an email, completely unsolicited by the way, to hang out again.

I was excited, but I’ll be honest. I wasn’t expecting much. This was someone I’d been pursuing since my sophomore year. I’d given up on it and resolved to not worry about it, or even think about it. Instead of thinking about what Jordan may be thinking I focused on researching the Peace Corps, or grad school in Ireland. I wasn’t going to go back to California after graduation, and I wanted to travel, so I focused on passing my classes and figuring out an after graduation plan.

But his emails persisted. Our conversation on what I suppose would be called dates remained animated and interesting. And he kept emailing, I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid there would be some sort of Todd; I would decide I really liked him and he would up and break it off for some reason or another.

So I continued to focus on my studies, until Jordan came over to “watch a movie.” We all know what that means. He wasn’t interested in seeing a movie, in fact the only reason he remembers what movie we were watching that night was because he wrote a song about it a few days later. Of course we kissed that night.

It just escalated from there. It was right and we both knew it. It was weird to not be around each other and I hated the days when we’d be too busy with classes, papers, and club meetings (his clubs, I wasn’t in clubs) to hang out.

He proposed on a sunny August day at Kerry Park and since then we haven’t spent more than nine days apart. That’s right exactly nine and I know that because he finally came back last Sunday.

Of course everything isn’t butterflies and rainbows all the time, but that’s not what I was expecting. He is a silly boy after all, and I’m one of those unpredictable girls. But at least we know we have each other.