I just came back from Rose Hills, placed a larger than usual bunch of baby’s breath by Billy’s bench, and walked over to his headstone where I knelt, begging and crying for it all to be different. But it’s not. With my sweat pants soaked from the wet ground, I bent over, and wiping away the rain from his picture, I gave him a long kiss. I wrapped newspaper around the Christmas tree that last week I’d placed by his bench, and ran back to the car, turning to Steve and telling him how much I wished he’d met Billy.
I lost my Dad this year, and I lost the home that Billy and I shared. Both were a hard sharp kick to the nuts, no doubt about it, but nothing compared to four years ago. Nothing like it.
It’s what I’ve gained in 2005 that gives me hope and comfort. I came back to Los Angeles, the city in which I belong, the place where the love and support of friends engulfs me. My job is fantastic, and I’ve gained the respect and momentum that confirms that hard work pays off.
My love for Joe deepens every day. He’s complicated and thorny, but also as sweet as a swig of codeine cough syrup. We have fun and I can’t wait for him to come back to LA.
So with my new dog in my new house in Los Angeles, I can only be humbly grateful.