A eulogy (from εὐλογία, eulogia, Classical Greek for “praise”) is a speech or writing in praise of a person(s) or thing(s), especially one who recently died or retired or as a term of endearment.
In this suffering, this divorce, this new death, there are people who have been my sky, sun, and my breath when I couldn’t breathe. This eulogy isn’t about the loss of my marriage, but of the people who are saving me from letting go of life.
Eulogy 1 is for B.
The first time I cried into a suffering submission, my husband was in the next room. He had just told me how miserable our marriage was, how there was nothing worth saving. And I walked into a room and wept. I cried in such a way where you are shattered and collapsed. I had hoped he would walk in at any moment to console me but he didn’t.
So I cried alone and didn’t know who to call and I’m not sure why, but I called B. It was late, and he picked up the phone. I told him my marriage was over, that my husband didn’t love me anymore, and I didn’t know what to do. B was quiet. And I just cried and he listened. He said it was okay. He sounded scared but he said it was okay. He listened and reminded me to breathe.
He would later say often that he didn’t know what advice to give to me, but sometimes you don’t need words, sometimes there is no comfort in words, you just need someone who can sit next to you in the darkness. And that’s what he did.
I first met B at work and sometimes work felt like camp. Or jail. And we were floor mates. And inmates. As years passed, I learned more about him and his beautiful creature that is his wife.
He is wacky and is always surprised by life. He is one of my favorite people despite our differences. He is creative and spacey. He can also be quiet. Sometimes he doesn’t know what to say and you can see him think and when he doesn’t like something, he makes faces. He is a rebel at heart and a natural teacher, but the kind of teacher who wants you to color outside the lines. He doesn’t pin labels on people and believes people are capable of anything. He gives people chances and accepts and allows mistakes. He prefers to live in his mind but knows that sometimes there is no space in it to share with others, so he likes to be in his mind in the presence of people.
He is a creative cook, in that he uses recipes as suggestions and guides, and then creates an unknown dish and it is often delicious. He is shy and expresses himself in creating. His reality is a fantasy and his world is a canvas in which he steps into and out of.
I have only heard him call someone an asshole less than a handful of times, and once it involved my divorce.
He can see both sides of any situation and sometimes it is frustrating, but he tries to be fair. He tries to find meaning behind actions. He wishes to create and allows others to create because he believes we are all creators.
He hates complainers. And negativity. He can feel the vibes much like the vibrations against his fingers on his guitar.
I have no idea how old he is because he is timeless and eternally youthful.
He allows me to call in moments of pain and self discovery. He keeps himself in tact when I am coming apart and he reminds me that in life, there is pain and beauty.
He is my artist and through him he reminds me to create.