I was checking through my list of contacts in my Hotmail account today, when I realized I still had Sarah's old e-mail address. Even though the last e-mail I'd tried to send her had bounced, apparently I just never got around to deleting it. Seeing that was like having the wind knocked out of me - it just punctuated the fact for me that I can't send her e-mail ever again. I can't call her, talk to her, laugh with her, sit at Sunset Grill like we'd planned and drink wine until we got silly. Or in our case, sillier. I wanted to believe she was happy and that was why I hadn't heard from her. I wanted to believe that she and Isaac Tigrett were off seeing the world, because that's what she deserved. She had loved him for years, and had finally gotten him back into her life, and they deserved to be happy. What better life for a hippie than to be living her days out with the founder of the Hard Rock, for crying out loud? But now I'll never know how all that worked out because I never got to ask. Life is short and bittersweet; love is eternal.

Comments

Anonymous said…
can you tell a little more about your friend and isaac.I thought he was a loner and had nothing to do with women
8:02 PM
Janna said…
Even if I knew any more, I'm not sure I'd divulge. I never got to meet him, all I know is what I've said thus far. Suffice it to say that Isaac was just like everyone else on this planet - if he was a loner it was because he was afraid of being hurt.
10:21 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

I've never been good with expressing emotions. I always felt that emotions were a sign of weakness - part of being raised as my father's "son", I suppose. Lately I'm having a hard time bottling up those things that bubble up when people start flinging arrows and stones. Some I deserve. Others, less so. Innocent comments get taken out of context and used to further some cause. I make a genuine post about an overwhelming feeling I have, and someone turns it into an accusation, based on some sort of internet statistic that proves I've posted in response to something else. Frankly, I don't see the connection. I get angry more often than I used to, but I often feel like I've been kicked in the gut too. I'm not accustomed to that one. It usually brings tears. Intended kindnesses are perceived as attempts to control. And this post will be labeled as an attempt to send someone on a guilt trip - but hey - if the shoe fits, baby, wear it out.
Read more
I don't like funerals. I'm not sure that they're truly helpful to the family, but it is an expected part of the process. It just seems to me that their only true purpose is to serve as a vivid reminder that life is short, and that we never get enough days to do the things we want. I also don't like arguing with people. I think discussion is good, as long as its productive and doesn't devolve into namecalling, but I've always considered myself a peacemaker. I thought that was my job, to mediate and try to keep the peace between warring parties; it was a by-product of my parent's divorce. Perhaps that's the root of the passive-agressive tendency - I don't feel I can say what I really think, so I try to find a diplomatic way to say it without hurting anyone's feelings. Apparently I'm not as good at it as I think, so perhaps I should consider a more direct approach. The funeral was moving, and I'm glad that I went. But it does make me wonder ...
Read more
Maybe it is time to panic. Wednesday morning I took Michael to the ER with a severe headache - one that had awakened him at 4:00am. He said his vision was blurry in one eye and he was having trouble walking, so after running Heather to school and consulting with his allergist to make sure this wasn't some weird side effect of something he was taking, I took him to the ER at 10:00am. They did a CT - saw nothing. Started giving injections of dilaudid. Several hours passed, several doctors and nurses checked in on him and asked questions. I called Jimmy to have him pick up Heather after school and take her home, then around 3:00pm they did a spinal tap. Fluid looked clear. The neurologist showed up, began asking more questions, checking reflexes, etc. Michael's left leg felt numb and didn't pass the reflex test. The doctor decided an MRI was in order. That was at 6:00pm. After a nurse assured me they wouldn't take him anywhere without my knowledge, I ran upstairs to McDona...
Read more