The Coldest Week

 

The last week of January is always the coldest week of the year for me. Two women who were a huge part of my life passed away decades apart in the same week. 

I think that's partially why I'm not really a fan of my birthday week because it comes so close to that cold week. People passing away suddenly never sits well with me, and that's why that coldness never really goes away.

 Twenty-seven years ago, I lost the first person who really understood me, helped guide me into the person I am today, and never made me feel like I was weird. 

My grandma was a saint. She was my mother's mother. A teacher, a helper, someone who would give her all to help someone else, even if it was a total stranger. She had this aura, this presence of peace and kindness that was just omnipresent. She was creative and encouraged my creativity, much like my mom does today. She had seen a lot of the world for what it was, endured the prejudices within it, but held on to her faith and empathy when so many others would have been broken easily. 

My grandma loved so many, and she knew she was loved by many more. That quiet chuckle enveloped a room just as her smile radiated it. The day we lost her came suddenly. One night, we were enjoying TV together, laughing and having fun, and then she went to bed that night and didn't wake up the next day. My grandma was the foundation of my entire family, and her absence in our lives was noticeable. We had always been a close family, but I can't deny there had been some distance created because of my grandma not being here.

I think about her constantly wondering how she'd react to the world today. I know she would be proud of the people her grandbabies and ultimately her great-grandbabies grew up to be, but she'd also be wary about what's going on. Still, I know she'd remain hopeful that change will come and things would be better one day, even in her quiet stillness. That's the kind of woman she was. 

And I know she would have loved my Sammie.

Four years ago, I lost the second, the one I gave my heart to, the first person outside of my immediate family I really loved who I knew loved me back.

I met her online. She knew my work and was a fan, and we started talking. I learned she was an artist and a writer who loved cartoons, anime, and video games, especially fantasy, RPGs, and puzzle games. We clicked instantly and were friends for the longest time, and I knew I was falling for her. Hard. I didn't want to tell her because, let's face it, I had never really been lucky when it came to women, but I followed my heart and confessed to her. 

Fortunately for me, she told me she had feelings for me as well, and we were together... even though we were several states apart. The thing about being in a long-distance relationship was improvising, creating time together, and just being creative in a lot of ways. We've been through it all. Lots of highs, lots of lows, but we were there for each other. 

The first time I met my Sammie in person, we embraced and just held each other because we never thought we'd ever be in each other's presence. When it happened, we made it count. She visited my part of the world once. I went to her part of the world a couple of times. She took me to my very first anime convention in my first visit, which just happened to be my birthday weekend. God, that was nearly 14 years ago this year. The second time it was a surprise for her birthday. I felt awkward blindsiding her like that, but her reaction in seeing me is a moment I'll never forget. Trips completely out of my comfort zone, but for her, I'd do anything. We were always connected, but being with her in person just felt right. 

I knew I wanted to do right by her. Aside from my mom, she was my biggest inspiration in everything I did, and for over a decade, she was the love of my life. 

I talked about the day I learned she died a few years ago, and it's still as fresh as the day it happened. Her mom told me what happened, and I was confused. I doubted her at first, and then it hit me hard. I was heartbroken, inconsolable, and just... 

Look. I wanted to do so much with this woman. I wanted her to be my wife. I wanted her to be the mother of my children. I wanted to give her the world and as much love as she had shown me, and to walk in this world without her in my life just felt unfair. I was angry at so many folks. I was angry at her family. I was angry with myself. I was angry at God. 

And when I stopped being angry, I just cried. I didn't want to do much. I didn't want to go out anymore. There was nothing out there for me, so why bother? I lost my best friend. I lost my first real love. And there were days I just didn't want to be here.

I hated those days the most.

I just felt cursed in the months that followed. I lost eyesight in my right eye. I lost a lot of my clothing, books, and art because my water heater burst. My computer stopped working. I was just broken, and the universe felt that it wanted to break me even more.

But I didn't let it. I thought about the people who needed me the most, especially my mother. Short in stature but big in heart. She's fragile these days, which is why I'm her caregiver nowadays. She raised me, and she had always been my rock.

I thought about my Sammie who wouldn't let me break and do her damnedest to lift my spirits.

I I thought about my grandfather, who I was a caregiver for after I graduated from college until he passed away on a rare snowy November morning. He called me Slick and was so proud of the man I was, but I know I got to be that way because of the influence he had on my life.

I thought about my grandmother, the brightest light and the first real loss I ever had in my life. Though memories of her fade over time, I could still see her face and hear her sweet soulful voice in my mind. 

And with those fires burning within me, I got out of that cold, dark place. I started drawing, writing, and creating again. That fire raged and burned brightly, and you know what? 

It still burns, but it's a good burn. It still hurts, and that part of my soul will always remain tender.

The last week of January still feels cold to me, but as it does every year, that coldness slowly fades. The loss of my grandmother and the loss of my first true love still hurts, and I remember them both fondly. 

I just hope somewhere in the great cosmos, they're looking back at me with a smile and think of me as fondly as I think of them.