The Friend Sandwich

Today was a good day. I did not cry today. I’ve been grief-stricken for a while, it’s weird how when you lose someone you really UNDERSTAND certain words, like GRIEF-STRICKEN and LOSS. I just don’t think I really understood what those words meant before. But now I do. It’s weird how things change you—how you look at everything just a different way. Like ever since my dad died, I’ve kind of been in a ‘whatever’ state. Like: nothing can make me as upset or sad as that, and everything IS the small stuff – and you know how they tell you not to sweat it? It turns out they were RIGHT. Nothing is as awful as losing someone you love, and it just brings everything into this clear perspective. For instance, guilt. Who needs it? Who has time anymore? Why waste life on feeling guilty? Guilt is a useless emotion. Goodbye, guilt. I’m not wasting my time on you anymore.

Also, FRIENDS. Friends are wonderful. I was just in New York and my old friends—friends who have known me for twenty years (oh my god I am OLD), friends whom I have danced “The Sandwich” with (you know that dance where three of you kind of grind into each other naughtily) – best practiced with two gay men and a girl or two girls and a gay. Straight men, fortunately, (or unfortunately for them) are never welcome in The Dance of the Sandwich. Anyway, my friends greeted me at this fancy schmancy restaurant with WHOOPING, ARMS-RAISED, BELLY-LAUGH HELLOS. Is there anything more wonderful than being greeted in this manner? I don’t think so. They made me really happy. And then today I got a lovely card from another friend, handmade and beautifully written, a condolence about my dad passing. And it made me so happy—because some people can be SO wonderful can’t they? And there is still happiness and Sandwich dances in the world. So, a good day.

When something terrible happens to you, it is amazing how wonderful your friends are. I don’t think I could have gotten through this without my friends and you guys too – all you guys who wrote me about losing your dads or moms or grandparents. I cried at every email. Thank you for sharing your stories with me and for opening your hearts.