Last and First

On what would have been Dawnielle Ross's 22nd Birthday, Christian, myself, and Dawnielle's father Tim, ate and drank at a pub near the Rockland Cemetery, after a few of us had gathered for her at her grave. Dawnielle was Tim's daughter, and Tim is like a brother to Christian. Dawnielle and Christian were also very close, she had worked for his company for a few years. I had known Dawnielle for one year before she died, a month after Christian and I broke up.
Dawnielle was everything that is great about this life. She was young, smart, fun, and loved everyone unless they gave her a reason not to. She didn't sit on the sidelines about anything. This girl played full out on the court in every game of her life. She was adored literally by thousands of people.

In one 24 hour period, I mourned and celebrated the life of a young woman taken too soon, the loss of a relationship, and the complexities of love, time, and energy. I had too much to drink with people I love under some extraordinary circumstances. Dawnielle is dead. And there is nothing we can do about that, even on her birthday. But I spent it with two of the closest people to her. I drank with her dad, and laughed with him, and listened to his stories. I sat next to Christian in a bar like I had countless times before, but today was different. Today I wasn't his girl counting how many he had, I wasn't concerned about him being able to drive, I didn't think about what this meant for my future. Today, I was just a woman sitting at a table with two men, drinking, laughing, and crying over the tragedies and truths of a great fucking life.

There was no bullshit at this table. Not with the three of us. There was no denying the anguish Tim was in, no denying the bitter sweetness Christian and I were feeling spending time together, no denying that these were extraordinary circumstances, and even more extraordinary relationships between real people. There were moments between Christian and I that felt like jabs to the jaw, and others that gave me a sense of safety. Stories Tim told that made the hair on my arms stand up straight. His sincerity, his realness, his raw emotion delivered with such a sense of responsibility. Tim is a man that knows that no one knows how to be around him. No one knows what to say, or how to act. There is no handbook for making nice with the man that buried his daughter. The truth is, Tim is still Tim. And I didn't know him very well before Dawnielle died. And I probably wont get to know him any better now. But I am so grateful for this night. Because I got to say the things I wanted to say, and be the person I wanted to be. And it didn't matter that it took four beers and a shot of Jameson to do it, and it still didn't matter when I spent the next four days crying for a breakup I thought I had buried.

I thought somehow I would stop loving Christian. I thought that the conversation would magically dissolve, ensuring that I wouldn’t suffer a single day longer than the duration of the relationship. I thought that I could walk away gallantly, like a soldier returning from battle, proud, and victorious, because yet another break up hadn’t left me crying, and puking, plastered to a fucking tile floor. I really thought it didn’t have to hurt. There was kindness, and love and compassion between he and I on the day we decided to part ways, and that really helped to lessen the blow. I honestly thought I wouldn’t ever need to write about it again.
But now I caught my breath and I’m grabbing my gut, and I’m feeling the emptiness of a relationship lost. Feeling the absence of a human being, that for a time was everything to me, and now, is only a memory, a part of my past. I have no plans that include him in the distant or near future, and it makes me kind of sad. The lessons of this relationship from beginning to end, continue to unfold slowly, everyday. The latest one is realizing that it is possible to love someone as much as I love him, and still leave them.
I think its possible that some people close to Christian and I thought maybe there would be a reconciliation between us after Dawnielle died. On the contrary, it only validated the choice we had made. Life is too short to spend a second of it unhappy. If I learned anything from Dawnielle's early passing its that my life, in the end, belongs to me and only me. And my happiness is my responsibility, no one else's. I was born alone, and I really will leave this earth alone too. What matters most, is what I do with the time I have in between. The difference I make in the lives of the people I care most about. I have loved and will continue to love, and I have lost big, because I've had the balls to risk big.

Later that night after the pub, Christian took me to the bridge to get a bus across back to The Heights. We told each other how much fun we had together, and it was emotional for both of us. The alcohol, the Day, the love, all came down on us in the front seat of the GTI, that I so miss. I got out of the car sobbing. I got on the bus waiting directly behind Christian's car, searched for cash with blury eyes, tears pouring down my face. I paid and sat all the way in the back of the bus. And then I heard a voice say "Eva...Eva..." The voice sat next to me. It was Gardner Rivera, my first love.

I hadn't seen him in almost five or six years, and we share a lengthy history that has impacted me in ways I think I still have yet to see. We have long moved on from our 3 time relationship, and don't ever speak. And there he was, magically, really. It felt like something very big was at work. Something that you can't hold in your hand, but only in your heart. I was transported to a time in my life when love was simple. When it was only about what felt good and not about making a life together. When it was safe to love like a kid and not think about the future, and marriage and babies, and careers. There was a part of me that couldn't believe this night was real. I felt the pulse of the universe when I saw Gardner's face a few minutes after seeing Christian's.
My last love and my first, separated only by ten feet and 90 seconds. And connected by one very lucky girl.