10.7.23

I’m in Seattle. A city I will never call my own but continue to yearn for.

While yes, Brad and I are here together for a monumental trip away from our precious {needy}, precious tiny humans, he is currently at a sports bar watching the red river shoot out and I am at the Chihuly Garden and Glass Art Museum… ya know, cup-filling time apart in marriage really keeps the conversation flowing when reunited.

My AirPods are in. Death Cab for Cutie and Postal Service flood therapeutic harmonies and lyrics into my ears as I wander around the museum, anticipating the big concert later today at Climate Pledge arena.

I cannot keep you out of my mind, Sussin.

I try. Fail. Then relent remembering what my therapist said:

Grief stays with you, forever. It’s a new companion. You can’t get rid of him and the more you try the more he persists. You must learn to bring him along.

I think of how much you’d love this museum.

I think of how much I’d love to go to this museum with you…

I think of how much I’d like to go anywhere with you, again.

I can’t remember if I marveled at art the way I do now before you died, or after. Do I seek art as a means to connect with you? Yeah. Probably. Maybe if I can imagine what you might’ve felt looking at this particular installation with me, as if you were sitting beside me. Educating me on glass blowing from your days in Hawaii.

Instead, I sit on this bench alone. Crying in the corner. People taking selfies and shaky videos rushing by me trying not to stare; assuming I am being moved by the art rather than pain moving through my veins.

You would love this place.

I miss you, Sussin.