Fresh Wound

Some things got harder, more complicated and painful after the fire.  From the friend who suggested that I wasn't using the chimenia properly, to a next door neighbor who is not being reimbursed his full amount for the fire damage to his house, to dealing with Larry's former human resource manager who makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up and speaks to me as if I'm a naughty schoolgirl.  Life is about running around asking people to do things out of the goodness of their heart because, no, I don't have a second form of ID, no, I don't have my account number.  It's 2:44 am as I type.  Sleeping has been erratic.

One of the most painful things about Larry's death has been the lack of communication from Larry's friends.  They were a tight knit group who seemed to really embrace me during the nine years Larry and I were together.   Did they grow to dislike me or is death just too painful for them to walk through it with me?  I got some emails from a few after the fire, but not one of them, including Larry's two best friends, have picked up the phone to see how I am.  Larry and his two best friends and I were all in a band together .  A few people got together  and decided to hold a fundraiser for me.  I put aside my resentment about the two best friends and invited them to perform.  One of them declined, the other totally ignored the request.  I don't think it's about me, but it hurts and yes, I do think he got the email.  

Of course, the hardest thing about the fire is being without my Montana.  What a sweet soul.  I miss wrapping my arms around her and her silliness.  Montana was my sensitive artist,  full of quirks that only I understood.  

On the flip side, I move on Wednesday.  The move will do many positive things for me.  It will put me much closer to my afternoon workplace in Princeton, close to a lot of convenient stores,  the NYC train station and a ton of organic/healthy food sources and Princeton friends and clients.  I will have a pool on the premises.  

I know from Larry's death that the rushing around slows down and the pain subsides but this is a fresh wound that has re-opened some of the old.  

Three and a half years ago, when I accepted a job as operations manager of a public access television station, my entire work life changed for the better.  I've been given creative opportunities and won awards and feel pretty fulfilled.  The thing that keeps me from pitying myself is suspecting that there is even more of that coming and the possibility that so much radical, forced change will usher in many unique opportunities for me.