Well. This is Awkward.

There's an elephant in my blog. I'm sure you've noticed. I can barely type because she keeps nudging the words, sneaking her way around them.

I see her in the comments, too, pushing thoughts out of the way and squishing sentences before they're even formed.

I admit it. It's a little awkward.

I wanted this to be a short post about drawing on fruit, or picking a perfume, or spending a day in the park. But then the elephant stepped on my toe, and I was like, "Hey, why don't you pick on someone your own size?!" and she said, "And here I was thinking you were a dinosaur."

The thing about imaginary and/or invisible elephants- or, at least, the thing about this particular elephant is - she ain't wrong.

I am a dinosaur, and we handle elephants bite by bite. So here goes, in four ho'oponopono nibbles:

I'm sorry.

Oh, my dearest Best Beloveds, I am sorry. I am sorry I wasn't here for you this last year. I'm sorry if you didn't feel like you could bring me your worries.

I am sorry for the weight my trials placed on your heart, and for every breath you took that carried with it a stab of pain.

I'm sorry I wasn't there to mourn with you the loss of our Dave, our Grayson - our silly, wonderful, morbid, introverted, wildly-zingy friend. I'm sorry I wasn't the one to tell you the news. I'm sorry I didn't take better care of him.

I'm sorry I haven't acknowledged you. Truthfully, I just don't even know how. You lifted me up when I was down, and tethered me to home so I couldn't just fly away. How do you acknowledge 900 letters? How do you acknowledge the thousands of emails to Dave, letting him know that you were there? How do acknowledge a GoFundMe account that gave me the funds to have tacos with mamasaur on my first day of freedom? And a place to live? And time to grieve? How do you acknowledge the children who sent love, the spouses who reached out, the pets who put paw to paper, and the bigness of every gesture?

And I know you think your gesture was small. Everyone seems to. But that's the thing about families, it's all counted as one, and y'all have a mighty rawr.

It humbles me. It, honestly, mortifies me... because I don't deserve it.

I haven't been very good. I failed, a lot. I swore, more than I ever have. I lost my temper, I gossiped, I've punched cars, and opted not to forgive. Sometimes, for short moments, I forgot about my real world entirely, caught in the stickiness of imprisonment. I am so, so sorry.

I almost lost my mind, but I kept it together because of you.
I owe my sanity to you.
... such that it is.

So mostly, I'm sorry that I came back wrong, or at least different.
You deserve better,
but I came back worse.

Please forgive me.

With that said, please forgive me. I can't undo the last year, but I will be here for you now. It is a slow transition process for me, but I am working towards it.

You can reach out to me, and I will reach back. My email is rawra.avis@gmail.com, and all the best contact info will stay updated on the side.

Thank you.

In time, I will find a way to thank you. (I think it might involve spray paint, a giraffe, and a few dozen balloons.) Thank you for every post, every word, every prayer, every good thought, every kind remembrance. Thank you for every noodle and cup of coffee. Thank you for the RawrLove book. One day, one of my girls will tell you how happy I was to cart it everywhere with me, from bunk to bunk.

Thank you for the thank you letters that reached my friends, my fire captains, and my officers. Thank you for keeping my home warm for me. Thank you for taking care of each other.

And thank you for Dave. For knowing him. For knowing us. And for loving us anyway.

"They take care of me," he said in his unmailed letter to me, "At least, they do everything but kidnap me in order to try. I can't take a damn breath without remembering I am loved, so it's ridiculous for you to worry about me being alone."

I shake with gratitude every time I read that.

Thank you.

I love you.

I do.

____________________________________________________

Phew! I'm so glad to be rid of that elephant. Now all I have to do is make some coffee, clean my room, and start my life over from total scratch.

Is there anything you need to get out of your system, or anything you need to know, so we can move on to arbitrary pictures of John Stamos and tales of prison nothings? Do you practice ho'oponopono? How do you like (or not like) the new theme?