8.03.2012

A Hot, Glittery Mess



Dear Readers,

Not long after I wrote my last post, where I made a commitment to not be depressed and self-deprecating, and to be kind and offer pie to everyone,  life threw me a curve ball and challenged that commitment.  A dear friend of mine, Deana, decided it was her time to leave this party we call life and let us continue on the dancing in her absence.  And I, once again, found myself in a place of contemplation spurred by the sting of heartache and the longing for an answer to that great question: why?

Deana and I worked at Anthropologie together, along with a gaggle of fantastic girls.  Working with all ladies has it's ups and downs, but I made and strengthened some great relationships there. Deana was one of those, and we always had a great time together.  We laughed, all of the time.  She's one of the few and the proud that could match me in my crassness, and my wit would cower in the shadow of hers.  Loren went into the hospital on my last of work at Anthropologie, and knowing that I was greatly distressed, Deana organized a gathering of the great Antho ladies and took me out for a night on the town to help me take my mind off it; funny how it's a night I'll never forget.  We weren't best friends, the ladies in her life that she was closest to are a phenomenal bunch that never cease to impress me.  However, she was a great friend to me, and I think I was to her.  Either way, I'm glad I had her in my life, I'm glad we had a few occasions to dance all night, I'm glad we made dirty jokes, and I'm certainly glad some of her glitter spark rubbed off on me.  As we learned from Robert Frost (or Pony Boy in "The Outsiders"), "Nothing gold can stay."  But it's impossible to get rid of glitter.

So, let me tell you about that week that Deana died.  I had a birthday, a funeral, a wedding, and a tattoo appointment, one right after the other.  Highest of highs and lowest of lows.  My closest of friends, that joyous group of people that are so essential to my heart that it would stop were they to leave, showered me with love and joy and gifts that I didn't deserve on my birthday.  The next day I picked up my sweet kindred spirit Stephanie, and we spent the morning reflecting and laughing and crying, and then joined some of the other beautiful loves of Deana's life for a memorial that was fitting and tragic. Later we sat in the backyard of Deana's house and mingled in that sort of dazed way you do after a tumultuous afternoon, smeared red lipstick on one another and left red kisses for our departed friend.  On Saturday I was overjoyed to be with my family, that amazing Braegger clan that is full of laughter and chatter and gossip and pie.  My cousin Taylor's wedding was beautiful, it was so fun to be a part of it.  Shay and I were charged with playing the music; it was great to have a reason to dance and celebrate.  Finally, Sunday came and after a year of waiting I went to see the amazing Darcy Nutt, who tortured me for several hours, but the end result is a beautiful and perfect scar.

From this week, I learned (again) that tragedy and joy are the most unlikely companions, but hand in hand they walk together.  I guess it makes sense, as their existence is dependent on the other's success.  Thank you, my friends, my family, for sharing in both with me.  If my life has any purpose at all, it has everything to do with you.  Thank you, Deana, for helping me remember all of this.  I hope you've found yourself in disco heaven, and that you'll save a dance for me.

Sincerely,
h.