Two Lucky

In two hours I will be on my flight back to Singapore.

It’s been a long year. A year ago I moved back to New York with Rusty, and though I had an idea I might be leaving this city alone, I never imagined this day would come with such… calmness.

The man I pledged to spend the rest of my life with, the man I swore to save, I lost him. Kant once said that true love occurs only in a condition of complete sacrifice, when one person gives to another the totality of his being, his raison d’etre. If so, in Rusty’s death, I have lost myself forever, too. At least, that was how it felt when he died. Since the day, my journey of grief has been a process of piecing myself together again; in a way, grief is not so unlike amnesia.

In finding my way back to myself, New York has been a knowing guide. I live daily in pockets of moments, walk among memories that pop up around New York streets like wild, fantastic flowers. These flashbacks - his smile on 11th Street, his fingers under the table at Piccolo Angolo’s, the corner on St Mark’s Cathedral where we sat waiting for him to catch his breath - come back to me as little gifts, tiny bookmarks in the grid of our New York life. To have had this past: to have had the time to spend with Rusty, to have had our home, and finally, to have had the gift of saying good bye - how can I not be grateful?

When Rusty died, leaving New York seemed impossible. My instinct was to possess everything, keep everything still. Don’t change, I pleaded. After so many months, so much has changed. I’ve learned to respect time. I’ve learned to let go. I’ve learned to say good bye.

So good bye, New York. And thank you. You’ve been a great lover, a good friend, and a beautiful home to Rusty and me. I’m sorry to go, but it will not be so long before I see you again.

This entry was posted on Saturday, December 15th, 2007 at 8:56 pm and is filed under New York. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.