Optimism, Don't Fail Me Now

I've been talking a lot about how helpful all of the spring events and rituals have been. How I've been feeling calmer and more at peace and more accepting of Kyle's being gone. But, of course, the moment one gets complacent or gives words to thoughts without knocking on wood, you know what happens. Things change again.

I did so well during my post-eye-op period. Surprisingly, I didn't have so much time on my hands that my mind was filled with painful thoughts of Kyle. I did a lot of mindless stuff, like sleeping a lot, reading a lot, and doing email. I spent hours on my Welsh genealogy--better than solitaire--but a real time swallower. And, not being able to drive and being at home with not a scrap of food in the cupboard other than my UCLA eating program food I lost more weight (48 pounds to date) so that was great.

I found myself thinking about the role of optimism in the grief process. I am a ridiculously optimistic person. The X-man used to call me "Pollyanna on Speed" and that fit. I wake up feeling good and I respond to the world positively, even in times of trouble. Lose my keys? I say to myself, "Wait; don't despair until you've really looked everywhere and waited and pretended you don't need them--they'll turn up!" I truly believe it is a waste of time to distress about something until all hope is lost. I'm like Scarlett O'Hara saying, "I'll think about that tomorrow." But it's not about procrastination or avoidance, it's about why worry before you have to.

For several months, I experienced Kyle being gone as Kyle being up north in college. I was waiting for him to take the shuttle bus down the coast. I had the expectation he'd arrive during the next long holiday weekend. And while it sank in eventually that this wasn't going to happen, my natural optimism hasn't jumped ship. I have an expectation of something good happening. About Kyle. Yeah. Really.

This isn't about banking on meeting up with Ky in an afterlife--as much as I would love to believe in that. It's about the belief that I have always carried with me: I will find it, I will solve it, where there is a will there is a way. And this optimism keeps me from feeling that all is lost--even about Kyle. In spite of all evidence to the contrary.

So, as I started out saying, I'd been feeling well. But, as I recovered from my May 28th surgery, I became aware that it had become June. And after June comes July. And it was in July, a year ago, that I lost Kyle. On the phone with my friend Mary Lou, telling her how well I was handling things, suddenly I was crying again.

I'm thinking about the 4th, 5th, 6th, and 7th of July. And the 13th of July. And I'm thinking about what I will do on those days. And I feel myself building a wall inside, to shore myself up against the inevitable. Against what has already come to pass. How is your optimism gonna help you on this one, kiddo?

Mysterious Ways

Lovely Laura, Kyle's girlfriend, came over last night. She is doing beautifully, having just graduated from the University of San Francisco with a psychology major. She looked wonderful and healthy and was upbeat. It was so comforting to see her doing so well.

Laura had done a remarkably brave thing. She had taken the Caltrain again. THE train from near Santa Cruz headed north. THE train that had stopped for 45 minutes and then, while Kyle was going to fetch them Chinese food, started up again after only 20 to 30 minutes. The train he had tried to climb on. The train he had fallen from.

Laura had gone to the second story (I hadn't realized this was a double decker train) and taken a seat. She sat at the back, as close to the seat she had sat in on July 5th as she could tell. It was not easy.

Obviously, this would have been overwhelming for anyone who had lost her boyfriend in a train accident. But two more things happened to shake her up a bit. The seatback that she faced was covered in graffiti. Writing not that artistic, kind of like Kyle would have done if he'd taken to defacing backs of seats on trains. She looked around at the other seats. No other had writing of any kind.

The she found beneath her seat a bag containing Chinese food, left untouched by a previous passenger. She called her parents.

I'm not going so far as to say that Kyle finally delivered Laura the food he promised but left in a hurry. But hearing about the graffiti and the food did take my breath away.

One more reason I may have to start Atheists for an Afterlife.