O.J.H.
Jvec
Paul
J.W.
L.O.V.
Dicky
Clark
H.R.H.
Valino
Ralph
A.G.B.
O.W.
1915
The day after, I wasn't so well. I had been up all night, and my eyes hurt--you know that feeling you get after a good, hard cry? Multiply that by 10 hours.
I have realized just how blessed I am. The people that I surround myself with are all extraordinary--something that I, non-egotistically, attribute to myself. All of these people have shown me that they are there. And all in their own ways. But one was unexpected.
I knew that she was a good person the first time that I met her. We had the same beliefs, the same loves, and the same nervous tendencies. So when, the day after, she asked about him, I could tell that she knew exactly what I was really thinking behind all the "life moves on", "I'm doing okay", "I think it's for the best". Mostly because it was things she had said before. Inside, I felt numb. And I was just trying to make it though the next hour so that I could go home and stare at the ceiling. And she looked at me as though she knew.
She disappeared for a little while and then called me into her bedroom. She had been sorting through some things, she said, and came upon a necklace that she had found years ago. On it were 14 clasps engraved, mostly, with initials or men's names. All silver and one gold. She put it on me. And looked me with eyes that said "may this help". And it did.
I don't know if the names and initials are lovers. But I'd like to think so. The necklace is from 1915--and with 14 clasps it's clear to see that not much has changed since then. I thought about changing the clasps and getting new ones made with my own additions, but wearing someone else's history seems to remind me that I am not alone. It seems bigger now than it is.
I am back in my safe place, with friends who seem like home all around me. These are not my last tears.
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