I suppose it’s quite common to feel very small in a crowded church smelling of wet coats and baby powder. And I suppose it’s very pedestrian to wonder what you are doing with your life when you listen to a pastor talk of a boy who never really got the chance to live his. To feel that this must all be a mistake when you recognize that this baby’s first words were also his last

I suppose it’s quite common to feel your heartbreaking with an ache so intense your hand instinctively moves to your chest. To actually have your insides hurt with such a force it steals your breath and leaves you lightheaded. To realize that it is possible to cry your hardest without making a single sound. To find that sadness hasn’t swept over you- it’s invaded you.

I suppose it’s very commonplace to find yourself feel like something has broken when you see the uncle who once told you that “crying is for sissies”, openly sobbing, clenching handfuls of tissue. To see shy grown men shake their heads, hands stuffed in their pockets, not bother to wipe away their tears. To watch a mother whisper such a private and choked goodbye you have to look away, because such anguish does not need a witness. And I suppose it’s expected that you find yourself wishing you knew what to say but to finally (finally) learn that sometimes there are moments where words will not fit.

I suppose it’s very ordinary to see firsthand the difference between crying, weeping and sobbing, and to find that it is the weeping leaves you saddest- the beautiful restraint of it all seeming very brave. To close your eyes and hear what a church full of grief sounds like.

And I suppose it’s expected to revert to being a child again and to ask “Why?”. To take the frustration of no answer and want to bargain. To know that in an instant whatever you have you would give- to end the sobbing of a man who can’t stop repeating his sons name.

And I suppose it’s very natural to be shocked at just how hot your tears are and how fast they can fall.

I suppose there is just nothing sadder than toys in a coffin.

In case the “#2″ confuses you, this is my second post about women who have shaped my life. I got this idea from Bre and it’s been a great way to get me really thinking about the people I know. It’s been interesting realizing who comes to mind when I try to figure out who to write about. I find that often my instinct is to write about someone who is funny, or someone who I remember vividly due to their personal quirks or personality but I’m trying to avoid that. To me, the idea of shaping implies something learned, something that’s helped guide me into being the person I am today. That’s why I have to include Miss Fabulous.

If I didn’t love her so much there’s a chance I would hate her. I’m not kidding. She’s talented and funny and beautiful. She’s everything that my New Years resolutions want me to be. She’s one of those people who speaks multiple languages, can dance like an extra in a Missy Elliot video, travels (and when she does she sleeps on the beach, not at the resort)to exotic places, knows how to knit and make the best guacamole you’ve ever had. And if you asked her, she could probably figure out a way to do it all at the same time. And she makes it look so effortless.

See what I mean about the hating thing?

But here’s the thing. I couldn’t hate her. I could never even be jealous of her, even though she is able to tan the color of a coconut while I burn like a tomato. Or the fact that French rolls off her tongue like it’s her native language and I’m still stumbling through “my shirt is green”. Or the fact that she kayaks and climbs mountains while I sit in traffic jams. I just have nothing but big love for her.

Why?

Because.

Because she’s the person who gets the “ungettable” things about me. She understands why I only like eating green gummy bears with no heads. Or why it’s imperative that I discuss why I’m against the idea of peeing on someone as foreplay. Or why I can be a happy and smart girl and still need to call her at midnight just to confirm that I’m not going to die alone.

My house burnt down two years ago. I called Miss Fabulous from the scene and after establishing that I was okay, she giggled. Maybe to someone else this would have been the wrong move, but as the one who knows the unknowable, gets the ungettable, she realized that I needed it. It was the completely unexpected reaction, but one that was appreciated. Everyone had been so kind, so thoughtful, so serious, but Miss Fabulous wasn’t. She made me realize that regardless of how I dealt with the situation, my house was still gone. So we laughed. And honestly? The laugh helped. I still cried my eyes out later, but being reminded that I could laugh, made things easier.

We met in school through her, but now Miss Fabulous has moved away. I miss her like crazy. The way you miss the last day of summer or the feeling of discovering something you love for the first time. Though I don’t see her as often as I used to, Miss Fabulous still reminds me to keep learning (hence the self-taught French lessons), to never doubt myself when a boy lets you down (again) and to watch Shark Tale for the best hip hop moves. She reminds me that you don’t have to live close to be close and that if my house burns down again, it will still be okay to laugh.

And if I don’t laugh? I know she will be there to listen to me cry.

Dear Citibank,
First of all, thanks for all the letters. I haven’t been getting a lot of actual hold-in-my-hands-golly-gee-it’s-for-me mail lately, so getting repeated envelopes addressed to me has been exciting.

I love that you are so excited to give me a credit card. All the exclamation points seem to indicate an abundance of real joy over this opportunity or a maniac sugar rush, either way- it’s contagious! Guaranteed! Low Interest Rate! Pre-Approved! I almost expect a smiley face at the end of each. Maybe that’s something you are working on?

And can I just say that I love that I’m pre-approved? Knowing that you like me already without ever talking to me or knowing anything about me makes me feel really good. I mean, this world is so crazy now and everyone is getting judged on how witty their bon mots are, or how sci-fi their sneakers look, or what kind of job they have yet you managed to skip all that nonsense and approve me based just on me. And that’s a nice feeling. If only there were more like you Citibank, the world would be in a better place.

I also really am in love with all the different templates of credit cards you have, I have to admit they are a great signing up feature. Though I’m partial to the ladybug design, I’m not sure it’s a right fit. Don’t get me wrong, I love ladybugs, and I like the idea of my credit card showing that I’m intune with nature but I have a feeling that I would get tired of the lady bug. And although I do love being Canadian, the credit card covered with maple leafs isn’t quite right for me either. Perhaps the mysterious plain black card would work- it reminds me of the story I heard about Jessica Simpson and her black Mastercard that apparently has no limit. If we could work out a similar deal, I think I could find time to fill out the form.

While others groan at finding yet another letter from you in their mailbox, I’m charmed at your repeated attempts. I admit it- I’m a sucker for persistence. Whether it’s a credit card company or a man I should stay away from, not giving up usually means I give in. Oh, and I especially appreciate that the president of the whole Citibank shebang has taken the time to actually sign my letter. I mean, from what I gather from the website you citibank folk are pretty busy, so I appreciate the extra touches you guys are putting in. And can you pass along to him that I love his penmanship so thoughtfully displayed in his signature?

Sadly however, I don’t want another credit card. I won’t try and sugarcoat this since I’ve already called and told you. I just feel like one card is enough. And I know, I know, I should be wanting another one because I’m young and reckless and every store is putting out their spring line, but Citibank- I have to stay strong. I feel we’ve gotten quite close with all the recent mail and phone calls but I’m asking you to now be a good friend and support my choice. Maybe try me again in a year. Perhaps then I will be in desperate need of a card that shows my love of the maple leaf. But not today Citbank, not today.

If you want though, you can still keep sending me the letter. Like I said, the mails been a bit slow and I like finding things addressed to me. Plus, all the exclamation marks boost my mood.

Sincerely,
brandy