Nothing to say. Just a bunch of big assed uber hugs.
. . . *Muah*          - Safe_Bet, 01/30/2010 

 

 

Dear Safe_Bet,

You tried to warn us, with your eulogies and what not . . .  but I didn't really get it, or perhaps I didn't WANT to get it.  Your spirit burned - no, burns - so brightly here, it seemed impossible, so I hoped for the best.

I started writing something like this the day I found out . . . Friday, when Amy posted on the Safe_Bet blog.  (And let me note, here, that from everything you've written, and her announcement to use, Amy is a mensch - you guys couldn't have been more right for each other.)

I could barely breathe for the lump in my throat*.  Then I read back through a bunch of your posts, but I didn't comment, 'cuz I didn't want to freak Amy out.  And it just didn't seem possible that you wouldn't be around with your razor-sharp wit and uber hugs and enormous heart and ya' know, just everything.  I got through the day at work by a thread.

And then I realized I was completely pissed at you for taking off - um, dying.  Seriously.  Pissed.  Dammit.  That's when I realized that I was grieving - the real "stages of grief" grieving.  Fuck.

I'm really bad at grieving.

---

The first comment you wrote on my blog:

"You were one . . . I started reading consistently. I did that cuz I thought that this was a chick that "got it" and with whom I felt would "get me" at some level. Was I ever right. You never disappoint me and you are always there with a heartfelt "verbal hug" when I need one."

- Safe_Bet, 10/05/2009

---

Dammit.  So were you - a chick that "got it."  That comment went through me, 'cuz it was exactly what I needed to hear . . . I was going through a tough time, and you boldly reached out.  At that moment, I really needed to hear your exact perspective . . . it broke in.  I felt better.

I saw you do that time and time again.  You'd jump into any conflict to cover a friend's back - whether you had a dog in the fight or not.  You laid into what was right and wrong.  You were present with a hug when someone was down.  You didn't hold back if there was something you could do to help.

Don't even get me started on your snarky, snerky, general smart-assery - nobody does it like you.  Oh yeah, and shameless flirt.  Yet, harmless.  Probably.  Maybe.  Love that about you.

And another thing - I can't fucking figure out how to go at the fact that I'm fucking grieving over someone I've never met, except through the stories we tell each other and the comments we make, and even THAT was fucking far too brief.  I'm already bad at grieving . . . this makes it suck all the more.

So I'm kicking that to the curb for future reference, and trying to just "let it be what it is" for now.   However, it does make it harder to explain to people I HAVE met.  Whatever.  Fuck 'em.

Part of it, honestly, is that you're a married lesbian with a family . . . and you totally came out loaded for bear.  You're a true femme - complete with CFM shoes - ferocious and fabulous and unapologetic.  Capable of the soft touch and the hard line.  And absolutely protective of your people. 

Many of us queer folk in rural spots live as foreigners in someone else's home town, and we crave a sense of connection, because there's so little in the way of true community FOR US.  We make a place for ourselves in the same way we make a place for ourselve at OS.  And goddammit, you were part of my community.

---

"It may just be the tint of my own rose colored glasses, but I see the underlying thoughts and interacts of a queer chick who was desperately trying to be straight, but ended up feeling disassociated and alone."

- Safe_Bet, 01/29/2010

---

You were part of my community.   And now you're gone. 

I wish I knew how to go at this shit.  Seriously.  I even thought about trying to clean up my language in this post.  Then I realized that you'd get it, you'd see past the gruff and just get it.

And I apologize for making this all about me.  It's a little about you, but really, it's about me.  It's not like I can begrudge you freedom from the body that was betraying you more and more . . .

I guess, most of all, I want to thank you for being part of OS.  For enriching and challenging us.  For being you, I suppose.  I'm sure there's a lot more to the story than appeared here.  That's okay.  You gave of yourself in so many ways.  Thank you.

Thank you for sharing yourself.  Thank you for "getting it."  Thank you for mattering so fucking much around here.

 And thank you for introducing us to Amy, and your kids.

---

So, on that note, here's the deal:

You left behind an awesome partner who is Poppi to your two girls.  When you asked your beloved to let us know that you'd passed, she did.  You knew we would embrace her, and we will, and we do.  You trusted her with everything, and it was evident in each word you wrote about your family. 

You made a safe bet with her.  You made a safe bet with us.

We're here for Amy, and for your girls.

We're missing you.  We're going to miss you.  That's because we love you.

Sincerely,

 Owl

P.S. I'm not ready for past tense with you yet.  Deal with it.  I haven't gotten to "acceptance" yet . . .

---

* This originally read something like "a lump in my throat the size of my fist."  Then I thought of the joke you would probably make about that, so I cut it.  I'm putting it back in, here, as a tribute to your, uh, excellent sense of humour.

---

*Image borrowed from Smashing Apps.

 

 

 

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