It's More Than I Can Hold

Last day of the work week for me, and it couldn’t have come quickly enough. I’m headed to Ashland, Ohio for LEYM’s Annual Meeting across the next several days. It’s a Quaker conference, more or less, and involves folks from twenty-something Quaker meetings getting together for community-building, workshops, and other Quaker stuff. I’m really looking forward to the time, for lots of reasons.

First and foremost, I’m going to get the chance to meet a bunch of friends who have been in my and Kellie’s lives for nearly five years now, for the first time in-person. That’s obviously a big deal, though I don’t believe you know what you’re talking about if you want to claim that in-person connections are somehow more “real” than virtual ones. It’s about what you’re all bringing to the table, not about where you are geographically-speaking. I have all kinds of close friends who haven’t been in the same place as me for a long time, if ever. You sound like a jerk if you tell me my friendships aren’t as legitimate as yours, so quit it.

I’d also point out that Kellie and I would never have had the chance to spend thirty years together without the strength of our online relationship, which lasted for months before we ever met in-person.

I’m also excited because I love taking trips, and it’s been a while. I’m going to miss Ivy and Coco a ton, but I know that they’ll be okay with my parents watching them.

I also don’t think I’ve taken any vacation days since December-ish. It was a rough few months for us before Kellie died, and I don’t count being devastated for a few days after that happened as “vacation time”. So taking a couple of days off all my various jobs, setting up an email autoresponder, and just being off the grid a little bit sounds pretty awesome to me. The spiritual experience is just icing on the cake.

I am officially packed besides about five items, all of which I plan to use in the night or morning, so I can’t logically pack those things. Packing is very hard for me, since Kellie has been packing for every single trip I’ve taken since I was a literal teenager. She knows everything that might be required in case of an emergency, she has made lists of all the necessities, and they’re all in that bag. Carrying a bag to the car that she’s packed always feels comforting, like she’s watching over me by ensuring I won’t ever need anything I don’t have. But not this time: this time I had to make my own list, which I am sure will be deficient in comparison to hers. I just hope I don’t forget something obvious.

This morning, my dad and I were able to transfer the title of our old car into his name today, which is a good task to have accomplished. I couldn’t find the title, and it turned out that Toyota had never actually sent the letter to the county title folks saying our loan was paid off years and years ago, so our first trip down to try it didn’t work out. I had to convince Toyota to send me a letter saying our loan was paid off and the title was released in order to get a new one, which then allowed me to transfer it to my dad. Anyway, complicated, but all done. I also got my own brand-new license plates for the new car—I could have transferred the old ones, but this is a new start, so new plates felt important.

The big trigger that shocked me most today was when I headed to my library board meeting this evening. I got pretty overwhelmed to remember that Kellie wouldn’t be at home waiting for me to get back after the meeting. Maybe that feels random to you, but I’ve been on the library board for something like eight years. Kellie typically sends me texts throughout board meetings about what the dogs are doing, what she’s up to, and about how she can’t wait for me to pick up a late supper and bring it home with me. This was the first board meeting I’ve gone to since she died, and it kind of messed me up to realize all over again that I won’t be getting any silly texts from her, not today and not ever.

When I leave the house, I’m always kind of expecting to get back there and see her waiting for me when I walk through the door. And she isn’t there, every single time. And yet I still expect to see her. I know she won’t be, but knowing and feeling are different things.

My mom has given me the gift of asking me not to clean up the kitchen and do the dishes tonight, since she’ll do them tomorrow after I leave. That gives me more time to rest and get ready this evening, and that’s a pretty special gift. She has been working so hard to make sure that I’m having restaurant-quality meals at every turn, and I don’t know how she always knows what will be the perfect supper (but she does, every time).

Believe me when I say that nobody gets the opportunity I’ve been given: to spend two months with my parents caring for me like they have. It’s an unbelievable privilege, and I try not to take that lightly. I still screw up and get irritated at small things and act like I’m not grateful sometimes, because I’m not entirely myself these days. I don’t know if I’m ever going to be entirely what I consider “myself” again, since this situation has been so earth-shattering for me. I know who I want to be, but who I want to be is always going to include being half of Matt and Kellie. And that means I’ve been ripped in half, which is an experience that has thoroughly disrupted my sense of self.

Anyway, take care. Expect to hear from me even though I’m traveling, unless I’m just too tired to write tomorrow. We’ll see!

Matt