here’s to love, anyway.

*Just to warn you, I’m blogging from my phone tonight. This means there will not be italics. Some of you are probably thinking this is a good thing, especially if you’ve noticed that I happen to be somewhat obsessed with italics. Others, however, are kindly remembering that I have a broken heart right now; that affording me some italics on my own darn blog is the least you can do.

And to that, I say thank you.
From the bottom of my broken heart.
Ha. That’s a cliche lyric, but in this case it works.

But on to my point.

Today I received a text from somebody, telling me he was sorry that this weekend must be especially hard for me.

And I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why this weekend was any harder than all the others.

Goodness, but I’d already weathered Thanksgiving. I counted my blessings with the kind of paranoia that belongs to those who’ve been robbed. I held onto them with a tight fist, like a child with their few sweaty, dirty pennies.

And I woke up Christmas morning with the realization that no amount of work I’d done on stage could prepare me for the acting job before me: Christmas was still Christmas to all my nieces and nephews and I didn’t want to change that.

And then there was my anniversary. Hahahahahahahahahahahaha.
My. Anniversary.

Drew had sent me an email that morning which basically said there are no words. And he’s right. But God knows I try. Desperately. And maybe one of these days I’ll dwarf what’s happened to me with some kind of powerful syntax.

But on my anniversary I kept telling myself that it was just another day. It’s like I was catholic and it was own version of the Hail Mary and maybe it did something because it sort of was just another day. You know, morning. Afternoon. Eventually the sun goes back to bed and you should too.

But who am I kidding? because no, it wasn’t a normal day. It was Opposite Day only this time the universe agreed with the outcome and there was no option to turn it back to right side up.

So yeah, those days were hard and horrible, but a lot of these days are like that in the sense that it’s ALL a freaking long, slow climb up out of grief.

And then there are the forgettable days that stand out too. Because somebody mentioned to you that “it must be so weird to have had somebody and now suddenly not.” And you politely agree because you know that they meant well by it, but Come On. Weird is a three-legged cat. Or a person who actually wants to eat olives. Or that picture of the man who is part tree that was shocking the world wide interwebs for a while there. But this–THIS–isn’t just weird, thank you.

And there’s every day and all the facebook statuses I read that remind me of how most people, it seems, didn’t lose the bet with love. And I get it, I do, because I was one of them, too, not too long ago. But right now I’m a long way from “Jessica Latshaw is spending the evening with the love of her life. Blah blah blah. Makeout makeout makeout.”

And I have to say the contrast isn’t awesome.

So I update about my own loves.
Family.
Friends.
Music.
Peanut butter and jelly.

And not necessarily in that order. If I happen to have an exceptional PB&J, it takes precedence, you know.

But again, back to that text. I mean, it’s Saturday, and Saturdays are hard, but so are Tuesdays, for that matter.

So finally I told my friend Christian about the cryptic text. He thought for a few seconds before he nailed it right on it’s big fat dumb head.

Valentine’s Day.
Oh, right.
That.

Just perfect.

But this year, it can still be about love, right? Maybe nothing pink, nothing involving doilies, but definitely a gutsy kind of love that keeps me from doing the dumb things that I now have every tool to do, and do quite well.

Sounds like God’s love to me.
And people’s love, too.
Because I’ve got some heroes in my life who won’t quit crowding me with care, and I’ll die trying to thank them enough.

So yeah, happy Valentine’s Day.

And here’s to this time next year not looking anything like it does now.