Life is, well, life. As is death, apparently.

Some days, you just wish for the unattainable; a new pair of shoes out of your price-range to go on sale, a job that may be very out-of-reach, to marry a Pro football player (Jay Cutler, I love you). For me today (and for the last few months), I have desperately wished to speak with my grandmother who passed away in July. The woman was hip, fun, trendy, sweet, loyal, loving, strong (amongst many other things - and at the age of 76). Can we really sum up a person in a few words? No. Can I talk to her out-loud like I did when I was picking out her clothing for a funeral? Of course. Do I sound like I'm batty when I do speak to her out loud? Duh.

Thank (god, friends, family) that I can speak freely about missing her. I wonder, though, if my one-day children and grandchildren will have to go through what I am and long for me and the comfort that I give. Bottom line: amazing people are missed in an amazing way.

Merry Christmas, all, and Amma, you know.

Today is the first day of the rest of your... week.

Is it ever good to settle for second best? When comfortable works and it always feels like happiness is just around the next corner so you can't enjoy the day in which you live? A wise woman once reminded me in my quest for the right job: baby, you just gotta love the one you're with.

So, today, I have enjoyed the beauty of the Colorado scenery. I have cuddled with my puppy and told select people that I love them. I cooked dinner for a deserving few. I went grocery shopping, watched a movie and wore my favorite sunglasses. Today, I loved the one I'm with.

A New Brand of the Lonlies

So, I am going to say something out loud that I assume to be a universal truth that would have been helpful to know before my beloved grandmother passed away on July 3rd; there is a time after the care-taking, the last breaths, after the wake and the funeral and the burial and the reception. After the bulk of the grief and the numbness that comes when talking about the deceased. A time when really it seems like the unbelievable physical and emotional pain have subsided and you feel like you and your life may actually be permitted to return to normal. That is the time that you realize that you are lonlier than you have ever been. Sometimes, there are tears. Sometimes, there is anger. But, for me, it is a basic pain that settles in your chest like it owns the place. Breathing becomes more difficult and it can seem like all the good in the world has been muddled into shades of gray. I imagine this is what it feels like to have a sumo wrestler on your chest after your first love just broke your heart. Depressing? Absolutely. The end of the world? Of course not, but for a split second, you recognize that this will all happen again, only instead of knowing how to handle it because you have been there before, it will be just different enough that you will have to start at square one. Such a pity that human beings simply aren't impervious to gut-wrenching loss.

Beyond the death of a very dear friend, family member and role model, realizing that you have left your home, friends and job prospects in the familiar can alone be dismal. I always recommend the silver lining perspective of the world, but sometimes when the unbelievable courage you have been holding onto for dear life slips even the tiniest bit, it can be ok to admit defeat for a moment (if even only to yourself). Bottom line is: moving away was easy, a death can make it more difficult than anything else you can ever remember. I'm fighting feeling weak for wanting comfort and to not be reminded of the loss of a life and the absence of another life in the first place.

Wait, I forgot, wasn't I coming out here to get a job?

Huh...

As I flew away a week ago today, I was struck by million different thoughts, but what was funny was that none of them were of any consequence. The night ahead with a good friend, a glass of red wine, some quiet time. None of these thoughts pertain to the endeavor ahead or the challenges to be faced. I can't approach these with anything but supreme confidence, not out of necessity or cockiness, but out of subconscious certainty. Maybe that sounds naive or even unemotional (at the very least cocky), but I guess I feel proud of my ability to adhere this perspective despite recognition of it. In a rare moment of chaotic clarity, I have decided to take my notorious "what's the worst that can happen?" philosophy and apply it to my more adventurous side. Until this moment, I have been on the positive side of resigned. Not to say that I am unfeeling, but once I decided to change my life and it's path, the rest was easy. No task too large or daunting enough; the hard part was taken care of. As much as somethings don't seem real, neither does Denver and - happily - I have little choice or opportunity to change my mind. This could be my modern Ellis Island. Instead of political asylum or escape from lack of food or oppression, I'm affording myself and escape from the doldrums and lack of color. It's not the Irish Potato Famine or genocide, but I'll take it.

I can see where I should be freaked out. I'm not. My foolishness apparent.

A good deal of family helped me pack and move nearly nineteen years of family memorabilia out of my childhood home in the last two days. Either I am more adaptable than I give myself credit for or I am too idealistic about how easy this move is going to be, but either way, I'm still ready (sore and exhausted, but ready). It took a much bigger uhaul to carry my things to storage (7 boxes, a bed, a chair and an ottoman) and my things that will be sold over the next few days (too much to even count - does anybody need a duvet or an old Britney Spears cd?).

But random "after two days of grueling manual labor" thought: is it totally egotistical to write a blog in the first place? I am actually a little bashful (albeit I am usually self-deprecating and am not showing a huge deviation from the norm) at the idea of someone besides my mother read what I am up to daily. Well, today, we drove, we worked hard and I sat in hot water in the hopes that my back doesn't feel like Tito Ortiz kicked my ass tomorrow.

So, it's official.

Small town Susie is moving to the big apple. I got a personality the size of the island so I figure it was meant to be.

I have reset my blog to showcase the move. I am looking forward to starting a new chapter in my life and not looking forward to saying goodbye. I'm hitting the reset button on my life so stay tuned.