Wednesday, August 22, 2007

When Good-bye is Hard

Today was more of a stay-at-home and relax sort of day, which pretty much was the goal of Matt's relax. He works 12-hour days, all week long (he gets paid well for it, as evidenced by the big shoes he was wearing), but working horrible hours like that can take a toll. I'm wiped out after three 12-hour shifts in a row. I can't fathom even breathing after working weeks without so much a day off. He's been talking about a possible job in Iraq. I don't like this idea, and I even told him that. Sometimes, the money just isn't worth it.

Anyway, he snoozed on the couch while watching the History channel. I took a nap after breakfast because making breakfast burritos and coffee is hard work. Time came where he had to pack his things so I could take him to the airport. I don't know how we got on the subject of my surgery and the reasons for it, but finally I did the one thing I haven't done since this whole mess began 8 months ago.

I cried.

He held me, and I cried. I told him how scared I was, and that I've been telling people I'm not scared, because I didn't them to be scared or worry.

My relationship with Matt...somewhat complicated, yet simple. He is my "what if" guy. Ten years ago, I was madly in love with him, thought he was "The One", and all that stuff. We may have been involved in a brief fling that more than likely shouldn't have happened. We were young, dumb, and had no direction in life. Anything seriously pursued at that time would have been met with disastrous results. Aside from that, we've always had a good relationship. We could talk to each other about anything. He'd call bullshit on me faster that anyone else I knew.

For this reason, he flew halfway across the country to see me. To call bullshit to my brave facade because he knew I needed it, and he knew that he was the only one who could deliver the message. That is what best friends do. Then they hold you while you have a global meltdown, and let you snot on their new shirt.

The first time he left, to go home after his work was finished here, I felt as though he took part of me with him. I was convinced that I would die, and that life couldn't go on. But then, life did go on. I moved onto other relationships, went to college, got a degree, found a career, and bought a house. I grew up. I'd say life went on rather well. While Matt was here for these past couple of days, I would look at him, grateful we never got married. He's not the same person he was ten years ago. I'm sure he was thinking the same thing when I caught him looking at me. We'd trade that knowing smile, and then argue about a birthday cake Kant and I made for him and Line ten years ago. (You remember which cake I'm talking about, don't you Kant?)

Lifelong's the best thing ever. Wouldn't you agree?


Tony said...

This post is so good I'm not going to link it.

I really like everything you've written in this post and the story of a "what if" person probably touches home for just about everybody . . . You've captured the idea perfectly.

Take care. Good work.

Xavier Onassis said...

I used to have "life long friends".

I thought.

Haven't seen or talked to any of them in over 5 years.

You're lucky.

"The D" said...

All of my buddies have been frineds since grade school or Freshman year of high school.

Life long friends are the best ones to have.

jared said...

I have a vague recollection, but what cake was that? All I remember was the "turtle" cake.

Heather said...

It was the cake that we chopped up, put plastic flies on it, and made a little sign that read, "Hope You Have a Crappy Birthday".

There's some disagreement as to why we made the cake. I say we made it because Matt and Line blew off our original birthday party plans in favor of "mac time". Matt says the shit cake (his words) was our plan from the very start.