I’ve been overusing the word “good” lately, but I have to say, it’s a hell of a lot better than overusing the word “miserable.”
I had a weekend of two wonderful things: I took Zack to see the house I’ve been eyeing in Garrison for more than a year, and he loved it, and so I’m bidding on it (yikes! and yay! all at once); and Derek came to visit on Friday (for a final move-out errand) and to see Zack, and the three of us had a great, easy time.
It’s crazy what time does to agony… Also, what conversation, mutual understanding, letting go, seeing what really is rather than what I wanted… all that. I know I wrote a book about traveling that journey, but I was as suprised—no, more surprised—this time to stumble into acceptance and grace and peace. Nothing, absolutely nothing, can feel better than releasing the chains of attachment, the self-imposed barbs of regret, dropping them to the ground and seeing how light life can be.
But you do have to go through the dark first. There’s no other way to get there.
Seeing Zack and Derek was beautiful, poignant, and above all, amazing. Zack was open with Derek about how much he missed him, how he wished he could come back; and Derek was gentle in responding. The three of us slept all in one room, just like before, but not quite—all different, in fact. And it was fine. And lovely.
When Derek put on his coat and readied to leave early the next morning, Zack was pedaling away on my exercise bike, reading a book (hilarious, yes?) and he dismounted to run and give him one of his trademark velcro hugs. He jokingly dropped to the ground, his arms wrapped around Derek’s leg, saying “Nooo! I won’t let you go!” and giggling like a maniac as Derek began walking toward the door. He meant it, of course, but he was saying it in the right tenor. Then he got back on the bike and started pedaling again as Derek opened the door to go, and Zack shouted, “I love you, Derek!” And Derek said, “I love you too.”
I died. A good death this time.
Later Derek sent an email saying it had been good to see us and that he looked forward to “finding our way together.”
I’m so grateful I don’t have rules in my head about How Things Should Go. Because it leaves room for accidental beauty like this, painful and pretty in equal measure, and worth all the gold in the world.