Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Socks = Love

I’m in the Upstate today, where I can work and be near A.S. for Valentine’s. We’ve never been in the same city on the actual day before, so this should be fun. We’re going to a taqueria in Central, where we will eat too much and feel very bad and have lots of fun. I got his Valentine’s presents at lunch—after getting hopelessly lost about three times. He’s always accusing me of stealing his Smart Wool socks, so I thought it would be neato to get him a pair of red ones that are easily identifiable. So I bought him red socks (because he makes my toes curl), a camping coffee filter (because he makes the best coffee ever)
and a pair of capilene boxers (because he’s got a hot ass).

I was going to get him a camping stove instead of the filter (because he sets my heart on fire), but that would have also made my Amex set on fire.

He made me this fantastic T-shirt. It’s red with a photo of a Belted Galloway cow on the front, with this kickass lightning streak around the photos. (We’re having our wedding reception on a Belted Galloway farm.) But he had to get the T-shirt, find the photo online, print it on this iron-on material and then put it together all by himself. I can’t believe he even thought of it! Apparently his whole studio got really into it too, and provided irons and helped cut out the photo and everything. He said they were sick of working on their models. Heh.

In another, less happy note, my sister told me some devastatingly unhappy news that is going to make me really sad every time I think about it. One of my sister’s close friends, now and when we were all growing up, lost her husband yesterday. He committed suicide.

My sister told me while I was driving, and I burst into tears and nearly wrecked. I still feel sick and faint at the idea. I don’t know any of the details at all, but I do know that our friend had a baby five months ago, and a son who is almost four. She had been through some postpartum depression, but was really recovering well. I never knew that her husband had ever been depressed, and I feel so terrible that no one knew what he was going through. It’s so unbelievably sad that we will never see his happy face and enormous smile again, or hear him laugh or watch him surf or hold his kids.

And I also hate him for what he’s done to his family. How his wife will have to tell their three year old over and over again that Daddy isn’t coming home. How she is suddenly without the person she always imagined would be her partner. How their youngest son will never know him at all, other than this dark stain on their past. They will always feel this mixture of guilt and anger, wishing they’d loved him more and also wishing that their love had been enough for him. Fuck him for doing that to them. How could he?

It makes me want to grab A.S. by the collar and shake him and make him promise me, SWEAR to me, that no matter how bad it ever gets, that he won’t do that...to me, to himself, to his family.

2 comments:

Marcheline said...

Suicide is a really strange thing - it can affect you really strongly even if you're not in the direct path of the storm, so to speak. There's always this mental list you go through, looking for something you could have done, could have said, should have seen, etc.

And there isn't anything. Which should make you feel better. But it doesn't.

- M

fluttergirl said...

Oh, Jemima...my family just went through the same thing at Christmas. My youngest sister's godfather, who has been an honorary member of our family for something like 24 years, went and jumped into the Grand Canyon.

No reason is good enough for him to leave his beautiful wife, amazing kids, and young grandkids. Any of us, really. It will never make sense. I am so sorry you are going through this, too.