Tuesday, April 6, 2010

A Post-Easter Posting

Happy Belated Easter to all of you out there in the world of blogdom. My apologies for the late well wishing, but I hope your holiday was joyous nonetheless. My Easter was a bit strange, as most things have been a little strange or at least different this year. Instead of hunting eggs or going to Church or eating ham, I spent the majority of my day at the Locale, running food and drinks and contemplating whether to wish my customers Happy Easter or not (after all, I am not in Indiana anymore). One of my brunch regulars (we call her "Nails") and I had a discussion about being Easter or Passover people, and decided that both were ok in my book (and then are those who are neither Easter nor Passover people, and yes we even like them!). We also discussed my Hoosier origins for the tenth time, once-again establishing that I am not from Gary and that she did go to Indiana once. She has become one of my many Locale fans, my little adopted family that come flocking to my workplace crying for brunch and dinner delights (as opposed to spells and potions). The sun is shining, Spring seems to finally be here to stay, and I am more or less moved into my new apartment. Major projects include finding a bed, obtaining actual Internet access (I think the Panera people are on to me), a bookshelf, and a microwave (because trying to drunkenly reheat in a pan is very dangerous). As we observe the Resurrection and witness the earth's gentle spring, I am hoping to experience my own rebirth, a rejuvenation of my senses, my soul refreshed, a new chapter in my life. Easter has me thinking about my sister, not that she ever leaves my mind much. I think of the yearly fights to get her hair brushed and into an Easter dress, taking pictures in front of the deck or Mom's purple irises. She still is able to make me laugh, but more often than not she makes me cry. I keep feeling like I should just be OK, that I should be moving on, that I shouldn't be scared or hurting anymore. The bubbly, funny, always-smiling Bradley does come out to play now again, but more and more I am a different self, drier, quieter, perhaps a little more genuine, and genuinely humbled. Oftentimes, I find myself either manic, crazed, and super-busy, or disinterested and listless, mostly seeking silence and distance. As I learn to swallow and accept my grief, this treatment seems a bitter pill, leaving me moody, jaded, and angry. More and more, it is hard for me to talk about the accident, to revisit the pain, choosing rather to carry my baggage in silence. Flashes of the hospital, the plane ride, the funeral still haunt me, questions and doubts flood my mind, and I consider it a triumph if I can keep it all from overwhelming me. Still, I am thankful for my life here, for work and growth, and a somewhat sense of direction. I have been very fortunate of late, with work coming my way (I will be performing in Hairspray at the Millbrook Playhouse during the month of June) and the warmer weather bringing us better business at Locale. I am thankful for the city, for its energy and inspirations, the people who have become familiar, a few even friends, the comfortable familiarity of my neighborhood and the always-going subway. As I forge ahead, I attempt to keep myself open for change, for learning, malleable in God's hands. Though what I am doing every day may not be super exciting or full of concrete accomplishments, I hope this is a time of "artistic marinating" (to steal the phrase from Lady Gaga), the journey that will take me where I dare to dream, the person I hope to become. I have so many questions and hunger for so many things, I pray for patience and guidance as I attempt to find answers and satisfaction. Most days I feel like I am banging my head against a wall, waiting for pain to subside and dreams to come. Though it is easy and tempting to live in the world of coulda-woulda-shoulda, I know I must live in the now, seeing what is in front of me and anticipating what is to come. For now, I am going to keep going, keep trying to live my life, to bravely look ahead instead of painfully looking back. Happy Easter; here's to life and a beautiful Spring.


  1. I too go back to that fateful weekend in my head nearly every day. Getting the phone call from Nana, seeing Christopher in the waiting room in New Castle, still dressed in his sledding clothes. I can still feel the warmth of Jessica's hand and the softness of her hair (purple streaks and all) Watching Christopher and Grandma sleep in the waiting room, thankful that while they rested their eyes they could also rest their hearts and their minds. Feeling so lost and at the same time feeling so loved by all of the family and friends who came to show their support and friendship. I also remember the anticipation of the arrival of your parents and then you. Knowing the urgency of the situation, but also knowing that once you stepped foot in that room it would all be a reality for you. I still hope and pray every day that the pain will ease just a little bit for all of you. Yesterday I was at the cemetery and caught myself talking to Jessica. I was trying to stand up all of the beautiful flowers that had been left over the weekend. As I battled the wind and stood one plant up only to have the one next to it fall over I pictured Jessica watching with her sly grin. There I was playing in the sand on her little beach (the soil in her spot is more like a fine sand). I am so happy that you are still in New York making your dreams a reality. I know that it takes incredible courage to embark on such an adventure, but it must be even more difficult when your heart is so heavy. Just know that you are so loved by so many. You were raised by incredible parents who believe in you every step of the way, on that note, we all do! LOVE YOU BUNCHES!

  2. Hey, Country Mouse. You're doing OK for yourself. Chin up!