Happiness is: Knowing You are Loved

Friends, good morning from New York, from your good friend Sarah, who is heartbroken today yet still sees the sun shining, the blue sky, and the kindness all around me.  I love you guys, and I have a real need to say that out loud today, so thank you for letting me do that.

 

I thought I would be more at peace by now, and some years I am, but for some reason, this year and today have broken me all over again, and I am fighting so hard to stop the tears and get on with my day, but today is not having any part of it.  Today is going to kick my ass, and I am just going to let it do that today.

 

I was hoping to not wake up this morning, to be able to sleep through the whole day and not come to consciousness until tomorrow.  But I woke up crying so hard I could barely breathe, as I clutched the pillow tight, tight, tight, and fought to hold onto the dreamworld that included Andy, the feeling that he was there, that we were together, laughing, holding hands, him touching my face as the moon shone down right before he kissed me.  He’s gone.  He’s still gone, he will always be gone, and today would have been his birthday.  I am a mess.  I am not even going to try to be anything today for anyone.

 

I purposefully did not schedule myself in the kitchen today, because I do not know that team well enough to explain what today means, and how there will be moments off and on when I just….cry…so hard that I have to reach for, grab for the table as I pass it, before I drop to my knees, into a ball, rocking back and forth, with the tears soaking my shirt as I try to stop the talk in my head, the remembering of the looks on the faces of the kids who murdered him as I walked up to testify at their sentencing after the trial.

 

Andy was just a tremendously great man, and we loved each other from moment one, the night we met friends for dinner and went to the Pogues concert.  OH he was so handsome.  OH he was so funny and gentle and strong.  I knew right away we were going to change the world together.  He made me feel safe.  He made me feel beautiful, and with him, I was.  I was unstoppable, I could be anything, and I was loved.

 

Back then I was already sassy, and I knew I was going places.  I had so much to do, so much to prove to everyone, but especially myself.  He was steady and calm, always watching me with those eyes and a smirk when I would get too wound up and feisty about something or other.  I would be bustling around, chattering 800 miles an hour, and he, this gentle, strong third degree blackbelt in tae kwan do would take my wrist just barely, yet firmly and with purpose, and pull me close to him, even as I would pretend to struggle, and he would just hold me there, just hold me hold me hold me, until I stopped wriggling around, until I admitted defeat and hugged him back and promised to take a breath. 

 

He would hold me so tight, so close, and he would help me remember to be present, to take my time, to not forget him in my constant swirling of activity.  We would always end up giggling once I stopped pouting and fighting it.  He would lift my chin and kiss me, soft, then firmly, then soft again. He would say, “Could you just….stop for a minute, one minute….” And I would shake my head no as I rushed through the kissing him goodbye, smiling so big as I kiss-kiss-kissed him.   And he would roll his eyes in mock exasperation and hug me even tighter, tighter, so close, before saying, “Ugh, woman, you’ll be the end of me, I swear it.  I love you, now go.”  And I would.  Off and running yet again with another board meeting or work project or gym time or triple booked happy hours. He grounded me.  He loved me.  I miss him terribly.  I miss him so much it feels like my chest is caving into itself, trying to hug that broken little heart of mine.  I was so lucky to be loved like that.

 

When you lose someone to violent crime, you come to a place where you must choose.  Sooner or later the agony, the goddamn agony of grief makes you exhausted, and you must choose whether to live in anger and vigilante-esque fury or to dig, to dig, dig, dig and search and try and hope for peace.

 

We did that, his family, his Friends, me, even though there are days when one of us loses it, we are always there for each other, with a hug, with a Guinness, with time to listen and remember and tell the stories so that we do not forget what and who we had.  We chose the path of forgiveness.  We chose the path of kindness.  We chose to look for happy things in the world, every day, because it is the only way we could get through it.

 

Some people mock me for that.  Many people over the years have tried to give me…what is it?  Advice?  Feedback?  They have said, “You’re too nice, and nobody is that nice.  You look weak.  People will take advantage of you. You need to toughen up.  You need to not be so open.  You need to not share the things that are not the very best things about you, because people will judge you.  People will treat you differently.  I don’t know why you always see the nice things with this sing-songy childish happiness.” 

 

I have heard all of those things, over and over again, and it just makes me know, in my heart, that the way I see the world, the way I chose to see goodness and kindness and the very best things in people as I get quiet and just watch them, observe them, and then tell them exactly what and how I love them—even almost strangers---I do this every day, all the time.  I do this because I learned it from Andy.  It makes me happy, it makes them happy, and it is real and true and wonderful.  That is what Andy taught me.

 

Today is a terrible day.  Today would be his birthday.  And he and I would be in love, and we would play-fight and celebrate and hold each other and kiss goodnight, like we did so many, many years ago.  But today as I continue to fight against having anyone be truly close to me (because I know just how much it slices my heart to lose them), I know that what I can do, what I am good at, is loving people, is showing them their best selves and helping them have a better, happier day.  And so, I do.  And by seeing that something I said or did makes other people have a better, happier, day, slowly I started having better, happier days, better, happier weeks, better, happier years, and finally, a better, happier, happy life.

 

My heart is broken today.  I miss him so much, so much, so much.  I will never, ever be “over it” and will always have him in my heart, even if it makes it harder to let anyone else have room in there, too.  I will figure that out, later, because I finally feel that it is time to start making room for someone else, which is going to be really, really hard for me, but today is about Andy and the happy things he taught me, so that I can teach them and share them with you.

 

I loved him.  I loved him with all the strength of a lioness, all the full-to-the-top heart and love two people could share.  I am so lucky.  I am so sad but so happy that I got to be part of his life.  I miss him so much today that there will be tears off and on all day, but because of him, I am fearless, I have courage, I have hope and gratefulness and heart and love to share as I work in this kitchen, with my medical teams, and with all of you.  I have a full, happy life that I would never have been able to appreciate without him pulling me close, closer, closer, tighter, and telling me to just take a breath before sending me off with a kiss and making sure I knew I was loved.  And so that, Friends, today, is what I am going to say to you today and always.

 

I will look at you, and I will See, really See YOU, and I will ask you, intently, if you are ok, if you are happy, and I will make you stop and think about it first, before I hug you tighter, tighter, tighter, not quite letting go, and then send you off with a kiss and tell you that I love you and that you can finally go on with your day, but not before you know you are loved.

 

May we all feel that today after stopping to take a breath.  Because of this one man’s heart, may we all have a better, happier day, and know just how much we are loved.  I love you, Friends, I really do.  You, and he, are my world, my heart, and you and we make this life a beautiful thing, together.  Happy Birthday my dear Andy.  I have taken a breath today, and I know I am loved.  You are, too, my dear love, you are too, always and forever.

 

Lots of love from New York, to Andy and to you,

Your Good Friend Sarah