10 Things I've Learned from You in These Foolish Things

You inspired my sudden interest in cooking. You’re an amazing cook even though you don’t give yourself enough credit. Deep down I know you know. You’re neat and clean and you taught me that Glasslock snapware containers are the shit, and even though you’re no longer around to see my new ways, I know you would burst with pride if you ever opened up my refrigerator again. You used to love to tease me about my barren fridge with NOTHING in it. I wish you could see it today. You also inspired my sudden interest in cleaning up my act – by decluttering! You live your life in a tiny apartment and it’s as neat as a pin. Everything has its place and your clothes closet is a sight to behold with all of the categories, colors and textures arranged just so.

You taught me that filling your life with stuff so that you’re always busy is not the way to live. You rarely have time for me, and when I try to make plans with you it’s always a big ordeal. Not only that, you’re really picky about the places we go, so you end up making all of the decisions whether you like it or not (and I’m not sure you even like it that much!). I’ve learned that being in this much control is not fun for the other person. Loosen up. Let people in. Weren’t you the one who told me that you are learning to open up your space so that you can let love in? Are you doing that? Maybe you’re starting to, but I can’t quite see it yet. Have you opened the door a crack? You know that there IS room for both lovers and friends, right?

I learned from you that just because someone is an incredibly nice person and treats you with utter sweetness, kindness and even kid gloves doesn’t mean that there’s not a dark side hidden in there. You taught me that there is truly such a thing as a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I lost a lot of faith in humankind because I let you fool me, and that really is a shame. You taught me not to be so trusting. But really, it’s not your fault, necessarily. You were broken when we met. You showed me red flags. I saw them, but just chose not to SEE them. I guess what you really taught me is to heed the warning signs because they are for real. People will tell you who they are from the get-go. I learned that it’s up to me to look the issue head on and in the eyes and not to cover my own while eating up the sweet gooeyness.

You helped me understand that drama does not equal passion.

You taught me to love stories. You could tell a tall tale like nobody’s business, and I was too young to know any better. When you told me that the biggest tree in the world had fallen over by the creek (pronounced, “crick”) and took me to go see it, I believed you and truly saw the biggest tree in the world. It was the biggest tree trunk I’d ever seen in my very few years. You even sang your stories sometimes, accompanied by your guitar. You told me that I was your favorite, but that’s only because I used to wrap my little arms around your neck and whisper to you that I’m so glad you came to visit in my tiny child voice. You were a man of so many stories - I wish someone had written them down. I’m writing mine down in the hopes that someone, somewhere might want to hear them someday and fall in love with stories like I did.

You gave me a business lesson. One must be very, very careful with what one reveals to work colleagues. Said another way, never mix business with pleasure…unless you’re traveling solo!

I learned from you that blocking someone on social media can cause that person to obsess over you. It’s waaaay more effective than using the no-contact rule or simply ghosting.

You’ve both shown me that relationships are hard - nearly impossible, but with a lot of patience, friendship and a sense of humor (and likely, more than several do-overs), they can be successful for over 50 years!

You taught me a lesson in being the person I’m supposed to be. Many years ago, when we were both in our 20s, we tried to date each other, but something wasn’t quite right. We got along famously as friends and we loved to hang out together, but you were very hesitant. You were somehow nervous and shaky around me, though you sang my praises constantly – told me how smart and wonderful and pretty I was, but you never even tried to kiss me! Years later, you took me to dinner and came out to me. I wasn’t shocked; I was more relieved. I’ve never seen you happier. If a man can be radiant, that’s what you were - confident, happy, and clearly finally free of holding something inside. I thought of you so many times since then, years after you moved away and settled down with your partner and your dogs. I was always so pleased that you were finally YOU and living the life you were meant to lead. I know it was scary for you at first. We’d email each other from time to time to check in, but you were there and I was here. I read the news on Facebook on Friday. You died after a very brief illness. Your life was taken in a matter of a WEEK. I’m so happy you got to be the person you were supposed to be. There’s not a minute to waste trying to be someone else in this life.

I’ve learned from YOU that it’s okay to make mistakes and that I’m more than likely going to make hundreds and thousands more before I’m done. I’m human. You’ve picked me up and dusted me off so many times that I can’t believe you’re still here. You haven’t given up on me yet, and I’m so grateful for you.