Cliché sadness

It's raining right now. One of those crazy East Coast rains that starts out of no where and by the time you can even think "where is the nearest Duane Reade is to buy that damn umbrella I knew I should have brought because "they" said it was supposed to rain but damn that thing is too bulky and I have an image to uphold" you are soaked. I did briefly get caught in it on my way back from my party of one Chipotle dinner.  

It's oddly quite across the street from me - the NYU dorm is still closed for summer renovations. I think I have a month or so left until I can spy in on the neatly arranged dorm cubes to see pj-clad students hiding behind their laptops. It seems every other window is aglow with cool blue artificial screening light from their brand new MacBook Pro's. I stare out a lot here in my apartment, like an old lady waiting for her son to come visit her. You know the one that never comes. I know relatively no one here. I have no job yet which is slowly draining the life out of me, I am sure Paul hates it too. It amazes me that in a city this big one can be virtually alone. Being alone fucks with you in ways I have never had to deal with. The upside is the dog gets lots (probably too much) attention. My legs are toned from all the walking I do and for the most part the apartment looks good. Not polished, not home but good to to visitors.

So onto the cliché. I was listening to This American Life's segments on Dad's. I only listened to half but it was a good half. *I love that podcast and I give Paul all the credit for introducing me to it. The subject of dad is an interesting one to me. To the outside world it may appear that I am lucky for I have two dads - a step dad and a "real" dad. The interesting thing is I am not all that close to either of them. They know all about me, my life, what I am doing, etc but we do not share a father-son relationship. So the segment I listened to was told by a guy whose dad died when he was 12. It was sad and hit me hard to the point where I almost started to cry at the point when the mom has to tell the kids their dad died. Sad right? However I had to suck it in for I was eating at the Chipotle by my house and crying there would be awkward for everyone. I thought about the sadness and of course I thought of my mom and the sadness not just around her death but around our future. By our I mean myself, my husband, our marriage, my sister, her kids, her husband, my stepdad and also the rest of our extended family.

So here I am in Chipotle, the weather outside is building, my mood is tanking and I still have half the burrito bowl to eat before I can leave. Young girls occupying the table adjacent from me laugh hysterically, having the time of their lives I suppose. This laughter annoys me and I realize after a minute of thinking "Shut up. STFU!" that their laughter makes me sad. It makes me realize that I am (other than my husband and dog) alone in this city. I am without friends, without family and while its on my mind without my mom. The ladder part of that statement bothers me. I hate that grief still can grip me after two and half years of losing someone. I guess the combo of the podcast, the loneliness and the weather caught up to me.

Well the weather has lifted and oddly so has my mood. I guess it's true that sometimes writing out what you feel can actually help. So tomorrow I won't be cliché (the cliché being sad while it rains) when I check in.

Be well.