Moving Right Along

Vision of an Artist

The night Sara passed away, I was sitting in a local restaurant, in a quiet corner in a quiet table crying my eyes out as I tried to communicate online the terrible news when my cell phone rang.  It was a woman from the NEOB who informed me that Sara was an organ donor, and despite her widespread metastatic cancer, she could still donate her corneas because they are "avascular."  That is, they have no blood flow so aren't at risk of being contaminated.   Imagine the sublime ridiculousness of being there as this woman asked me 1,000 questions about Sara's opium habits and number of times she'd been hospitalized for Hepatitis.  An endless series of ridiculous questions you simply would not believe.  Finally after an hour I hung up, and was told to expect a letter telling me what finally happened.

April 17 or so I received a nice letter from them telling me that her corneas had been used to help restore the eyesight to two separate individuals.  Of course, the won't tell us more about this but if there are two cornea transplant recipients who suddenly find they can see great, but can't drive because they are too distracted by the details, we'll all know what happened.

Communitization

Thanks to Google I've noticed that some readers have posted messages about Sara's passing, and even examples of their commemoration of her life.  However, little of it is linked from this page and that may make it hard for regular visitors to here to share the experience with you. 

If you've posted a blog entry somewhere about your gardening, bird feeding or mad science experiments with chocolate bunnies would you please leave a comment here for others?

Thank you,

Erik

While my girlfriend was dying....

That was the phrase that came unbidden to my lips as I was trying to explain something completely mundane.  "While my girlfriend was dying..." began a sentence I thought I was going to be unaffected by finishing.  That was two weeks ago. 

The obscenity of the grief and despair of that sentence is still haunting me.  "While my girlfriend was dying..." I uttered as if I was discussing having my car washed or cable TV installed.  So utterly common, so utterly matter-of-factly.    Such a lie.  Not the sentence but the pretense.  The farce that nothing was wrong in my life, that I had come to some sort of terms with Sara's last conscious breath, and my own survival despite her absence.

Never have I been such a liar, such an insincere son-of-a-bitch.    It's as if being stabbed once by her death, I again stabbed myself with the same implement to satisfy my own curiosity of wondering if it had ever really hurt as much as it did the first time.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry I ever said that phrase, "While my girfriend was dying..." I had no way of knowing the after effects, the helplessness I feel at the grief that wants to drown out everything else.  Like a child who hits the cold sidewalk for the first time and has to learn the lesson that concrete is hard, and running dangerous.

A Literati Virtual Yard Sale

Among the many things of Sara's that need to find a better home are some magazines.

I have a collection of Yoga Journal, Fine Gardening (old, before they got bought and turned to poo) and Lenswork.

Really, I'd be happy to give them to her friends, but none are nearby.  If you are interested in these let me know. 

Ideas?  Suggestions? E-mail me at eriksq at yahoo you know the rest.

Thanks!

Why aren't you here??!!

Dear Sara,

There is so much I find that I wish I could share with you.  For instance, while looking up movingrightalong on Google.com I found out that your article on a license to menstruate shows up as number 4 on Yahoo Glue.    That information and 4.95 would buy you a mediocre cappucino, I know.  But it sucks so much not to be able to tell you myself. 

Your True Love,

Erik