a swollen heart
no matter what people tell you beforehand, no matter how they warn you, no matter how many friends go before you to show you how it’s going to be, there’s nothing that can prepare you for this transition. this goodbye.
i have had a week and a half of lasts. the last swing club meeting, the last evening prayer, the last folk group rehearsal, the last radio show with chelsea. and tonight, the last mass. i had a hard time getting through it. when i sat down during the homily, i looked over at the music stands, and remembered matt morrell, and those first few masses when we sang together. i quickly refocused and tried to listen again to what father tony was saying. at one point, when we were playing, i looked at tim, and remembered in a flash, four years of masses together, playing music. messing up, making faces, having nonverbal conversations and jokes about terrible song lyrics. bombing our way through new tunes that we don’t quite remember in time. rocking the face off old favorites, and exchanging that knowing look–the "that was fucking awesome" look. tonight i looked at matt in the middle of the gloria, and he gave me a certain smile and a nod. and i knew what he was saying to me. and i had to stop singing and let the choir carry it. four years. four. years.
and the thing is, i keep thinking about the rest of my life. i know that wherever i go, i will meet people who i will fall in love with. they will change me, and i will hopefully change them. and we’ll get used to having each other around. and then i will move on. or they will move on. and that moving on part isn’t what i dread. in honesty, right now, i’m ready to move on. my future couldn’t be brighter. I have no regrets, and the year approaching me is waiting for me with opened arms. i don’t fear it. i welcome it, i look forward to it, i’m excited about it.
but god, this is hard. this is really hard. i knew it would be. but i didn’t know it would be quite like this. i suppose i couldn’t have. i’ve been feeling a nauseous, physical ill. i first thought it was a result of too much suvlaki and french fries at dave’s. but i’ve been feeling it for days. and a meloncholy from time to time, that i don’t realize is there until i’m asked whether i’m alright. there’s that, and there are bursts of bittersweet joy inbetween. oh, love. a swollen heart.
virginia is, indeed, for lovers. and this place, these four years, as cheesey as it sounds, they have a piece of my heart.