archival : my own notes 3 :
Every time I fly I calmly ask myself as the plane is taking off, if I died right now on this flight, would I be satisfied with my life? Could I rest? Would I want to live, or would I welcome this death? Today my answer was, yes, I would be content with the life I'd lived so far, and no, I wouldn't want to die just yet because now I have the baby cats. What a feeling, to have something to live for that gives you no fear of pain and rejection. They are what I should have been loving this whole time.
My best memory of gerald is while sending the foster cats off, dancing around them in circles as their curious faces peered up at us from the floor. "Dog Days Are Over" blared from the computer and we sang and laughed crazily together and held hands as we spun above them. Our bond, our friendship, it seemed so clear and apparent in that moment. We could be weirdo kids together, any time of day. Its how I hope to remember what we once were.
I'm on the plane to Vegas and these thoughts swirl. I embrace them, ask them to flow through me so that I can teach myself to delight in coming through alive and well. Tanner hands me his sister's engagement ring over the back of the seat. Its a bigger version of my promise ring. It doesn't help. My thoughts are slightly less welcome.