Thinking about Alexandria today. It's been 12 months since the plane went down and she moved on. In one of the ironic twists that makes life so unbearable sometimes, it had been a few weeks previous that I'd seen her pic on Linds' fridge, and asked, "Who's THAT?" in that tone that indicates a strong desire to be introduced as quickly as possible with the highest recommendations available.
She laughed at the time, told me it was her friend Alex, and that she was married. I'd meet her husband a few months later at Alex's life celebration, this intelligent, brawny, and just shredded shell of a happy man, struggling to deal with losing what must have felt like the winning ticket of the lottery of the Universe. Despite all of that, I envied him. Anyone who knows anything about Alex would envy him.
I was in San Diego, opening a restaurant, dealing with some mild depression issues of my own when I attended the memorial, and wrote the blog "Meeting Alex." Guess it could be said her timing was horrible and perfect. That night tore open a dam strong as papier mache. She lived a life that can't really be captured in photos, words, or MySpace pages. The strongest testament to who she is, is the love her friends still espouse, the inspiration she remains for them.
Seeing someone loved and celebrated like that just took my breath. It crushed me. SHE crushed me. From that moment on, I was somnambulistic. It was just a matter of time until something, somehow, happened. And it did. A few weeks later, I'd end an 85 hour workweek with the (underline-italicize-bold-all-caps) STUPID decision to go out with some of the boys before driving home. Which lead to falling asleep at 75 miles an hour, waking up at 45 miles an hour, airborne on the side of the road.
Which lead to the realization that something was seriously WRONG. Wrong line of work, wrong dreams, wrong lifestyle, wrong approach to love and life, wrong everything. Each month following was a new revelation, a new deconstruction in order to make way for something stronger and more permanent. No more restaurants, bars, lounges, pubs, or private party bartending. No more bartending, period.
It's unclear how much it all has to do with the events of 12 months ago. How much inspiration she was is unclear. Or how much of a stomach punch it was to realize how seriously screwed up my way of doing things was compared to hers is unclear. What is clear is that the night I met her and her friends, I admired and appreciated them all. And felt the leper amongst the whole, the unwashed amongst the clean, the dandelion in the tulips. How do we measure the effects of people in our lives? Is there some litmus test that can exactly determine the weight of love, support, and example?
12 months ago, Derek and I were sitting on a porch, sipping on 40s and smoking at 10 in the morning. Today the only chemical in the bloodstream is caffeine. 12 months ago, I ignored my true self, waiting for something to happen. Today the only waiting I do is for my clients' approval on my writing and creativity. 12 months ago, I had no idea how to reach. Today I can't stop.
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