Do You Know What It Means?
A friend posted about the meaning and value of things and people, and I began to think about all of it because of what she wrote. Mainly, because in an email exchange with my brother, he was pondering why I gave Sty the significance of grieving him as a loss. And coincidentally, I was thinking of New Orleans as we are in the 10th anniversary of the 2005 Federal Flood.
The meaning of New Orleans now, of almost not having New Orleans at all, and what it meant to me, having returned after 16 years in California to my beloved city only to find it underwater three months later – that’s a lot.
The meaning of a house that was designed for me by my husband who never lived there nor completed the dream of us – me, him and a child – to be a family – living in our home in New Orleans. Another whoa, wow, a lot.
The meaning of Sty, the first man to pursue and tell me he loved me in ten years. What?
We imbue the meaning, right? We fill these vessels up with all that crunchy goodness. Or do we? Do they come to us with their own context and narrative and blend into ours?
The house – the LaLa – was my dream to come back here to New Orleans – my home – a dream of belonging. A place to be haunted by, a place to miss, a place to be. And in it, a home to seek refuge.
The husband, the man who could be the Antony to my Cleopatra, who could meet me head on. The child to make us a family and give us a grounding in future tense.
Have I over estimated who Sty is? In 2007, a neighbor of a friend I was staying with in Istanbul read my coffee grinds and told me my heart was sealed up after my divorce, no inroads and no out roads, just a big, black, solid mass.
I would say Sty holds plenty of meaning and I will also admit that the imagining of Sty is more than the actuality of Sty.
To love again is the goal. To try again is the heart of the matter.
All we can do is be grateful and take or leave the meaning to move on.
Thanks for cracking the man code, Sty.