Join the "Life is to be lived with a capital Fuck Yeah!" team.

So here’s the deal. My very favorite person is dying. If you’re reading this and we happen to be close and I happen to love you a lot, please don’t take it personally that for the past few years I have had a favorite person. This person rose to the top for sheer amount of awesomeness available to me on a fairly consistent basis these last few years. Someone who always showed up with unexpected and hilariously timed heartfelt additions to our conversations and my life. And evidently showed up in my life when I needed to have a favorite person. 

I actually have a lot of favorite people in my life and the odds are if you’re reading this, you’re one of them.

Anyway, my favorite person is dying and I’m having the hardest time figuring out how to do the whole thing. Many of the things really. When I get to thinking about how my life is going, the excitement and the frustration, I really want to share it. We all do.

Except my Dad. He informed me recently that he doesn't really want to share his world with others. I know this to be mostly his opinion as I've observed it to not be the truth by the sheer amount of stories he has to share with me when we see each other, but nonetheless, I’ll honor that he doesn't feel like he needs to share things with someone.

But I do. I want to share my life, I really do. I not only want to, I need to. I have a great and strong desire to share the experiences of my life with others. I mean, obviously, I’m sharing this with you now. And I specifically want to share the most intimate details with a very select few.

So anyway, I get to thinking about how life is short and about how my friend’s life is shorter and I feel like I shouldn't waste any of the moments we have together and that I shouldn't waste any of the anything anytime. But, I don’t know if you've ever known someone amazing that’s dying. They are off busy with their living as much as they can. That’s how that goes. And because of how much life needs to be lived, it’s not their responsibility to spend the last moments of their life processing your grief. And there are tons of people at the ready and on the calendar to love them. Dying people have a really short busy schedule. And I've learned that they hate having to wait on hold more than the rest of us because they are quite literally losing precious minutes of life.

So I never know when the last time I see her is going to be the last last time. I keep putting on my big girl pants and showing up when I get the chance. Because it’s awesome. At some point there might not be awesome left to have with her. So I do my best to be graceful and to be grateful. And I usually am.

It’s the other moments that can be challenging. As a person with many passions and goals. I've been trying not to let my friend’s ticking clock make me feel harried or rushed in the unfolding of my own life. But it’s really hard not to be caught up in the mania of “Life’s got to be fucking lived!” especially when mania can be so productive and delicious.

I've found myself so restless. So wanting. So doing my best not to become even more intense about life than I already am. I’m pretty on the “life is to be lived with a capital Fuck Yeah!” team in general. But lately I have these thoughts. And I also have feelings and I want to share them.

I want to launch them fearlessly and sometimes ferociously across a table or over a cup of tea toward someone that can really see me and understand me, but I haven’t grown the intimacy to know that person for this moment of my life yet. And I don’t want to force it. I want the real thing. Yet I’m still hyper aware that I’m not going to have a favorite person soon. And truthfully since I’m not quite staring death in the face, I’m not in the same place with her now either. In some ways that connection is already gone.

And here’s the thing. I’m not taking applications. Of course I’m open to connection, but much like when I have ever felt that I've wanted to be in a romantic relationship, I’m not looking for just anyone. As much as you totally and completely just find the one, you don’t just find the one...I realize that only makes sense to people that get what I mean there....

This totally reminds me of when I got mad at a piece of cake. A friend of mine, a friend that typically doesn't like cake had the Irish Oatmeal cake from Piece of Cake for her birthday party. This was at least 5 years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday, and my life hasn't been the same. I took that bite and it was the most amazing thing I've ever tasted and immediately I got really pissed off. 

But seriously.

I got mad at the cake for being the most amazing thing I’d had in my mouth and ruining how I felt about all the other things I’d had before or any of the things that might show up to be eaten after because they wouldn't be as good. I got mad at that fucking cake because nothing else ever was going to be as good as that cake and I knew it. And every bite of that cake continued to be amazing. I couldn't believe it. I kept being surprised by the amazingness of each bite of that cake because it somehow kept outliving my expectations.

But here I am.

I've had at the amazing cake. I've had at the amazing friend. And life keeps moving along and it keeps asking me to show up and just trust that there will still be more awesome things to be had. I totally believe it and I don’t believe it at the same time.

I mean, how could it be possible?
It shouldn't be possible, but it’s likely.