being done

Usually on Wednesdays I opt to stay in Chicago with Jeff. Of course, once a month I head back to Indiana to join up with the gaggle of girls (and the occasional guy) for karaoke night at the Tap.

Today I decided to stay in Chicago, and all day at work I contemplated calling up a friend to come over for some wine and girl talk. So, I texted her to see what she was up to.

About an hour later, I got her response.

Now let me preface what I'm about to talk about next. See, this friend has a family member who is one of the strongest people I know. And this person has always been my friend's ally, confidante, and overall inspiration.

This person has also been dealing with medical problems since I've known my friend.

When my phone rang with my text ringer, I was expecting either a "What's up?" or "I've got practice." I mean, it was pretty last minute, and my friend is a busy gal these days, bless her heart.

Instead what she wrote struck me. In summary, the text simply said: "i'm at ....'s all night...[they're] basically done...we're making [.....] as comfy as possible until it's time..."

At first I was saddened, and immediately texted back my love and prayers. I didn't want to call and interrupt such a private moment.

Before I closed my phone, I reread my friend's message..."[they're] basically done..."

That line really stood out to me. Of course, in simple terms it refers to the end of life. But I thought about it on a deeper level. There's something beautiful about that line.

Done.

Done with worry, done with pain, done with the pieces of the world that make us hurt, make us cry, make us wonder what the point is, or make us wonder some people do such horrible things to one another.

I think my friend put it in such a beautiful way. It's not that life is all bad, or that it isn't worth it. I think it's the exact opposite. I think it's about this crazy journey with ups and downs and curves and turns. I think it's about beauty and about ugliness. It's about absorbing everything around us. It's about experience. It's about learning. It's about succeeding...and failing. It's about laughter. It's about philosophizing. It's about everything.

But like all things, there will be a point when we're done. And then it's off to something new and different. (For the record, I don't believe that once this life is over that's it.)

Not done forever. Just done with this. It almost makes it feel like the journey has been won. Like every experience---good and bad---has finally paid off.

This weekend, I looked at my pit of a bedroom and shuddered at the thought of cleaning it all up. For a few hours Sunday evening I toiled, scrubbing, vacuuming, sorting, organizing, doing laundry. Near 11:00pm, I had finished. I looked around at my room, no more a filthy pit of dirty underwear, empty water bottles, and errant shoes. It was peaceful. I couldn't wait to just get into bed and enjoy it. As I hung up the last shirt, I took a deep breath, exhaled and thought to myself, "I'm done."

It was a small accomplishment, a little speck compared to a lifetime lived. But it was freeing.

That line...[they're] basically done...as sad as it is, I think it's very poignant in its simplicity. Because being done with something isn't necessarily a bad thing. Being done with one thing, gives way for something else. And in this case, I'm sure it's a journey without pain and suffering, full of unimaginable beauty.

sweet lew

That's me with my friend Lewis back in February 2006. We were at an Oscar Party, dressed to the nines, drunk as skunks, balls to the wall. Okay, so it wasn't THAT rowdy, but our table was covered with half-sipped chocolate martinis and screwdrivers that we'd hoarded right before they shut down the open bar earlier in the night. And by night's end, we'd finished them all.

I remember Lewis lost his camera that night. He'd gotten it for Christmas and had been taking pictures ever since. Hundreds of pictures were on that camera, and unfortunately the camera was gone. We figured someone had probably stolen it.

And to be honest, I think Lewis was more upset about the memories he'd lost, rather than the camera itself. I mean, the camera was replaceable...but the moments in those pictures? Well, it'd be impossible to recreate them.

Of course, a few hours later, Lewis had moved on. He was past losing the camera, and on his way to making more memories, posing for pictures in other people's cameras. Like mine. Or our countless other friends.

But that was Lewis. He just made the most of everything. I mean, he was born with a heart defect for which he'd had an artificial valve implanted since he was little. But you'd never know it. He never let it slow him down. And much like the way he just went on having fun even after losing his new camera, Lewis just went on having fun and enjoying life, even with a heart condition.

I mean he just really lived. Truly balls to the wall I guess, actually. He did things that made him happy. He never acted like he was more fragile than the rest of us, even if in truth he actually was.

I remember a few weeks after Oscar night, Lewis leaned over and told me that in the fall he'd be having heart surgery to replace the old valve. I was a bit shaken up. I mean this was serious shit. But he let me know that it would be okay, and that it would be for the best. I mean, the valve he was using now was getting pretty old. "Better to be safe than sorry," he'd mentioned.

He was dressed like a vampire or a super hero. Something with a cape. It wasn't Halloween, just a theme night for him and his circle of live band karaoke friends. I remember him whispering into my ear, his cape falling over his shoulder, someone on stage was drunk, and singing something loud and fairly obnoxious. But just like he did after losing his camera on Oscar night, Lewis just went on with the night, having fun, creating moments...as if nothing happened.

Lewis died July 8th, 2006, just about 4 months after he told me about the heart valve replacement. He was 24.

It's been two years, and for the most part it doesn't hurt to think about the loss of Lewis. But sometimes, like today...it's harder.

I guess for all of us who knew Lewis, it's a lot like when he lost his camera on Oscar night. Right after, we were distraught. We were borderline frantic and shocked. But as timed passed, we went on. We started having fun again, occasionally looking up to the sky as if to check in on Lew every once in a while. We kept on creating moments, even though we still felt like there were some empty spaces where Lewis should have been.

And now, two years later, we still do. But unlike the camera, Lewis is not lost. A little piece of him is in everyone he ever knew. And we are all better for that.

Miss you Lew.
November 11, 1981 - July 8, 2006.

charles leonard

My friend Erica reminded me that the pink stapler I talked about yesterday was picked out by her.

So, technically it is her stapler. She's since moved...to Arizona...and I will be leaving my current job very soon, so I figured she'd want me to take good care of the stapler that she so obviously was once very closely connected to.

So I'm stealing it. Okay, not stealing. Rescuing it. Who knows what hands might rest upon its clear, pink plastic parts in the future?! I don't want to risk it. Erica is a dear friend, and I'm sure that she'd only want the best for Charles Leonard.

Yes, the stapler's name is Charles Leonard. It says so right on the bottom. Which made it much easier for me because that name is just brilliant, especially for a pink stapler. No time spent trying to come up with a suitable moniker. Nope. Charles Leonard was already bestowed upon this fine piece of office equipment.

I plan to take Charles Leonard to JV with me. It'll be a big move for him, but in the long run I think he'll be much happier.