this is for you
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| Tue, 07-31-2007 - 1:40am |
because someone, somewhere, is going through the same things i am. and floating in this expanse of a universe we shouldnt have to deal with things alone. so, ian creath, this is for you. this is my birthday present, from you and for you. thanks. and thank you to my dear friends or whoever else may read this. We would both be turning 19.
Dear Ian,
Today, I miss you. I really, really do miss you.
It's my last day of work today. I loved my job. Everyone has been so nice and so supportive. It has been the best, most stable thing to happen in my life in years. If I hadn't had it when you died, well, I don't know where my mind would have gone. I think a lot of my friends don't really know how to react to me because I'm one of the first to forge this path of losing someone dear like this. We deal with things by not talking about them, and people are kind to me, but I wish more people would just ask. Claire, I heard about your friend, and I'm really sorry. What was his name? What was he like? How do you feel now? Did you go to the funeral? How was that? How do you think your school year will go? I mean, we all kind of know the answers, but sometimes the answers are so big and strong that I wish I could just get them out of me a little bit. They're pushing against my insides, and I can feel them. Anyway, I just thought I'd let you know about this lesson I'm learning, one that I'm sure you already knew and in fact one that I think that you were trying to share with me. The whole thing about things changing, about growing up, about needing to get out whatever is inside. That maybe some people are more there for me than I think, or something. Anyway, I've been going through a lot that many of my closest friends aren't familiar with... losing my friend, losing my parents, just a lot of loss and a lot of grieving. I know that everyone, in the end, will go through this, and I know that when the time comes I will be there for them like I know it would mean the world to have someone there for me. So, it is hard being a step ahead, and I think about you, and I know--I just know--that you were a step ahead of all of us. And, you know, working at this office, I'm the youngest person there, so they've been around the block, too. And I was so, so lucky to have everyone there. Everyone there cared about me, they had almost all lost someone dear, and they asked me all about it. They were the ones to bring it up. They gave me hugs, cards, kind words. The littlest things. But from so many, those little things meant a lot. It allowed me to realize that you were dead. It allowed me to acknowledge what was going on, realize and acknowledge the change in my life and the changes going on in myself. You were important to me, and when I look back, it all hits me. It really does just hit me sometimes.
And I don't know why today. I don't know why I miss you so much today, but I do. Maybe it is because all things feel so transient. Maybe it is because another really good thing has ended, and it reminds me of how good how GOOD you and I were, and now that has ended too. But it never really ends. I was blessed to have that job, so many all good things come with a little pain, but would I have wanted to sacrifice that good thing to avoid that pain? I needed both. I needed that job, and more and more, I realize how I needed you.
You were awesome. You were just. So. Cool. Ian Incredibly Cool Creath. Haha, I look back through the Facebook messages you sent me, and they are hilarious. That whole thing about looking at the Utopia boards and how they said "This age is gonna pwn, Faery WH ftw!" Haha... and how you, and Matt, and Alec, and I had that funny chat online on the night after the fourth of July and we all kept saying, ftw! ftw! ftl! ftw! I hadn't remembered that you stole that from crazy Utopia players. And how ridiculously awesome is it that we both played Utopia. And then in our college years united with each other and played Utopia again all through ethics class. And how we both loved ethics class but for some reason always ended up playing Solitaire and Utopia and sending each other IMs for the whole fifty minutes. And how we sent each other facebook messages about how the other person was doing in Solitaire. We were truly ridiculous.
Some funny things have been happening / going through my mind the past few weeks. It is thundering now, and it may rain, and I think that makes writing this more appropriate and more special. You were so appropriate, and you were so special. You still are. I don't really know how to explain the appropriate part, but just... an appropriate time in my life, an appropriate personality to complement my own. So, anyway, not too long after you died, I opened that arm rest thing in between the front seats of my car, and I found this unlabelled CD. Turns out, it was a Sufjan Stevens CD. I don't know where it came from, but it was just one of those weird moments because I know you liked Sufjan so much. And now, I've discovered this whole new music that I like too. I listened to the whole CD, even though it was hard a bit and I was ready to be happy again. But, I'm going to be ready to be happy at a lot of times when I am still grieving or bothered, and that is okay, sometimes I just have to tough it through; I can't always force things. Anyway, it was just neat and special and strange that I found that CD when I did. I came up with this idea in my head that it was like maybe you had sent it, and maybe things happen for a reason. But then, we used to talk about all sorts of theories on how the universe works and everything, so maybe it isn't like that at all. But, the point is, I found that CD, and it was Sufjan, and you loved Sufjan, and I loved you (in the deepest kindred spirit friend kind of way), and now I have this new music that I can enjoy and comfort myself with, too.
Continuing on, sometimes when I'm driving in my car, too, I reflect on your last name. Creath. My other Ian called me the other day to say he had heard about how you died and he said he was sorry, but he said your name wrong. He said Creeth. And every fibre within my being just wanted to say CrEATH. like brEATH. It hits me now writing this that it is also like death. Creath. Breath. Death. Why can't they all be one in the same? Alive and dead? Gone and here? So alive, so alive, so alive, but dead. Both. Cyclical, connected, or something. Ian. Ian Creath. Ian Creath... breath. Thanks for everything, man.
The house just creaked, and I think, is that you? Sometimes I want to go back in time. If I let myself think about it, I want to go back in time so bad. I want to go back in time to wandering around campus while you climbed trees and I built stonehenge out of random bricks I found lying around campus. I want to go back to you infusing us with this spirit and getting us all to go out and play frisbee outside because you really cared like I had cared and it meant something to me that someone else cared just as much as I did. And when we would play freeze tag, or have that spinning contest.. haha, that spinning contest! Or walking to and from ethics class. Or talking deliriously at night over our computers. I think of your smile, and I think of your dark eyes, and I think of the light way that you carried yourself, and I just see you inside my mind, I have this image, and I can hear your voice. I can see and hear and feel and remember all of that, but it is all casual, but it is special.
And, I just miss you.
And sometimes I just think how we had so much going for us. We have had a lot of similar experiences; I've been going through recently what you had been through before. Troubled families, troubled relationships, ruts, feeling lost, but still some good times and good friends and a lot of books which opened up our minds and made us think. You were in a good place, though maybe sometimes a lost place, and we both knew that that was where I was headed, and we were heading down a same path together. We were going to be really, really good friends. Ian, I liked your friends. My new friends didn't always work for me, but you did. I wasn't thinking in romantic ways, just a deep sort of friend connection. And I think for you it was the same way. And it was a rush. You, Mairin, and I would have had a blast. You and she would have hit it off great; you are similar in some ways. You have seen maybe more of the hardships that I have seen, but, deep core down, we are all special, and we all have something running through us and inside of us. I really love you both.
Writing this had been so good for me. You've taught me a lot about life, Ian, and I thank you for that. Thank you for telling me that it is okay for everything to change. It is okay to feel like everything has changed and is changing. It is okay to feel bad about it, to feel shattered, to feel lost, to feel broken. But, you still say, eventually we must put ourselves back together and use it as a chance to become someone wholly new. Sometimes I feel like life is so heavy, sometimes it weighs down on me so much and I am so afraid of losing someone or something else dear to me, that I just don't feel like it is worthwhile, but I am trusting your words and I am honoring you and what you say. You wouldn't have ever, ever, ever wished for me to break down and get caught inside myself forever. I'm letting myself mourn, Ian, I'm letting myself mourn at times and then I try to put myself back together. Sometimes, I'm too caught in my head. But, you told me that you did not believe that life is a tragedy. And I trusted you then and I trust you now. You affected my perception of things. I believed you, and I trusted you, because I could just sense in the way that you were that you ran deep and wise and simple and complex. And I still can breathe in nature sometimes, and when I run I love the feeling of my legs burning. I didn't get to sit in that peaceful church while the man played piano right after your funeral, and I'm sorry because I really wanted a quiet time to say thank you and good bye and contemplate on the good and see how you would respond to me and to feel your energy. But maybe that chance will come at another time, at another place. I'm still going, Ian. Life is still going, and at this moment I am floating out in the universe, a long almost transparent swivel of self. And it is a sad smile. I wonder where you are right now. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I miss you today Ian. You are my friend, and you were there for listening and friendship and growing and experiencing. We were going to talk and listen and become great friends and grow and experience and the world held much potential for us. But now you're dead, but still now all the memories I have of you are good. Every single one. And maybe you were saved from something, or maybe it was just your time, or maybe it was a tragedy. But I love you a lot, and I'm still thinking about you in my life. Tomorrow's my birthday party, and I will be thinking of you, there, too. It is thundering outside.
Your friend,
your buddy,
your amazing conversationalist toby reading pal,
Claire

Claire
That was amazing!
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(((((Sweetie))))
That was so beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing.
Love ya
Gail
xoxoxoxoxo