a birthday, a wedding, a funeral

“I’m anxiously awaiting a new post,” someone said to me the other day, and I sort of shrugged. I haven’t paid much attention to this blog lately; I’ve been knee-deep slogging through actual life with not much time to stop and pontificate on what it all means.

The BF and I spent eight glorious days in Provincetown celebrating my close friend Jimmy’s 30th birthday. (As a side note, when did all my friends get so f-ing old? Every time I turn around someone’s turning 30, and in October we’re celebrating another friend’s 40th. Lord.)

The week couldn’t have been better. Perfect weather, lots of laughter and lots more liquor. Ptown isn’t exactly known for its nightlife but we managed to hit either A-House or the Crown every single night we were there. At this rate, my liver might not make it to 40.

On our final day of the trip, the BF and I left our crew behind and mounted the long hike out to the beach. If you’ve never been to Ptown, you may not realize what a commitment this entails. The beach is beautiful once you get there, but it requires an almost comical trek through the wetlands to reach the area where the gays gather.
Once we were there, I wanted to rest, but the BF was chatty and affectionate. I soon found out why. He was trying to figure out a way to pop the question. He’d planned the whole outing and had a ring hidden in our backpack.
No one believes me when I say I didn’t see this coming, but I seriously had no idea. We’re not sure yet of the specifics but considering a ceremony next spring or summer. Details to come.

On a more somber note, we came back to ATL and were met immediately with some grim news, reports that our friend Todd had died over the weekend. This is a person we traveled with to Mexico back in December and have seen often this summer, one of the few guys in Atlanta that my BF immediately clicked with. He was one of the most consistently upbeat and positive people I’ve ever known; unlike me, he was nice to everyone, always welcoming, eternally generous.
This is the first friend I’ve lost since high school and I’m still going through all the expected stages: disbelief, shock, anger, numbness. We attended the funeral on Saturday and I was moved by the pastor’s homily, which was personal and authentic in a way that too many eulogies are not. He spoke of Todd’s passion for life and his love of travel. He pointed out how difficult it is to find a photo of Todd where he’s alone.

I’m still trying to wrap my thoughts around all of this, to find the unifying lesson to tie all the events of August into one neat bundle. Maybe there isn’t one that’s not totally artificial. Life is beautiful, life is hard.