TRYING OUTSIDE THE LINES

I think I was in college when I first started telling my friends “I love you” when we part. Growing up, “I love you” was for family that you saw every day and every now and then. Showing up at school every day, I expected everyone who was supposed to be there would be there, and our friendship was enough of an “I love you.”  But after I left home, when I would get together with someone that I’d known and hadn’t seen in a while and wouldn’t see for a while longer, I said, “I love you.” The rest of life in the world is pretty different from school. Part of me thought maybe this is just a part of growing up; you tell people how you feel when you can. Which is never a bad thing because you never know what might happen.

They say friends are the family you choose. I’m so grateful I was chosen by Sandy. Our brother, John, introduced us ten years ago. We’d all meet on Sunday afternoons for tea, an amalgamation of rehab friends, church friends, and school friends. We said it was John’s “harem,” plus Alfred. For such a long time, she was saved in my phone as “Sandy – Sunday Tea.” I don’t know what it was about those places where we met; maybe it was just the vibe of the group, but for me, then, that was the definition of a safe space. Some of us didn’t know each other very well at all, but we showed up, sunshine, rain, any manner of emotions, and talked about what was really happening in our lives. And we listened to each other, and gave each other space, and also comfort. I always looked forward to Sunday tea. 

And as much as I looked forward to seeing John and my rehab friends, I looked forward to seeing Sandy. She would greet you with a kiss on the cheek and an arm around your neck, and I thought that was the greatest thing. So open and welcoming. I don’t know if you’ve ever hugged someone and felt the love radiate between you, but every greeting with her was like that. How is it possible that someone loves you before they even know you? Maybe the real question is how is it possible that someone loves you when they do know you? 

Sandy knew me. Because of the way we met, she knew my story. And she loved me. She met me for coffee, for breakfast, for a walk. We’d go to movies and plays and concerts. When John left us, she became my movie date. And in the midst of all of that stuff people do together, she let me know her. On those walks, over those lunches, we’d talk. And laugh and cry and ask unanswerable questions and hold hope for each other. Sandy’s probably the most honest person I know. I love that she thought out loud through things. I love that she let me in on her thinking out loud through things. She shared ups and downs and struggles and little victories and moments of inspiration and doubt and encouragement and fear and friendship with me. And let me share the same in love, with no shame or judgement, always fully in love. 

She taught me so many things – never apologize for a butt dial, it’s been too long since you checked in anyways; don’t be afraid to try the dirty chai or the matcha tea; write the damn thing, and keep writing because it doesn’t matter if it’s right if you don’t get it out; there is no approved verse style for poetry, your style is your style; fur children are legit children; there is no such thing as too many art supplies or journals; everything is sacred, and inspiration is all around; buy the big box of Stroop waffles and keep it in the freezer, no one else will know how quickly you finish the whole box; shit literally happens, just shower when you get home; waddling is perfectly acceptable when running is too much; see your favorite artists in person whenever you can; the Brooklyn bridge is not too long to walk across, that’s why there’s a pedestrian lane; buy the good coffee, it’s how you start your day, so start the day off good; sometimes there’s nothing better than old haunts with good friends; sharing the smallest joys with someone you care about invites immense joy to yourself.

She also taught me that tomorrow doesn’t always go as planned, but we can work with what we’ve got; change is so hard, and letting go is so painful, and we will survive; it’s never too late to pursue your passion, whether by turning the puppy shed into an art studio, taking iPhone photography classes, or welding a metal fish; appreciate the beautiful things, and find beauty where you can, in art, in cinema, in people; it feels so much better to share than to keep it all for yourself, and no one has to know it was you who gave; sick and tired will make you change things in your life – whenever you change, you are brave for believing better of yourself and strong for trying a new thing; your path is your path – the book doesn’t have all the instructions because there is no manual for YOU; don’t be too afraid to see the world – it’s not too expensive or too far or too inconvenient; you cannot make anyone do anything they do not want to do; you can always live the life you want – it’s not too hard to do something different if it brings you peace. There are so many more things she taught me.

One of those weird getting to know you questions is what do you want to be remembered for. My go-to answer is that I want to have loved well and been well loved. My sister Sandy taught me to love well, so well. I always felt the love radiate between us when we hugged; and if it’d been too long since we’d seen each other, it seemed like the love would hold us together for a bit longer because we’d each missed our sister.  

When we’d exchange “I love you’s,” Sandy would say, “Love you, girl.” At her celebration of life last weekend, her (blood) sister hugged my neck, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Love you, girl.” Amazing love in this family that found me.

I’m going to miss my sister. But I am overjoyed that I was beyond blessed to be loved by her, and will always be so proud to love her.