One of my favorite movies of all time is "L.A. Story." My daughter and I quote lines from it all the time at each other, just to crack ourselves up. I was feeling melancholy yesterday, and she reminded me it was probably time for me to watch it again.
There's a line near the end that set me thinking:
"Why is it that we don't always recognize the moment when love begins but we always know when it ends?"
I remember the exact moment I fell in love with Asa. We were on our first date - we went to a Joan Osborne concert at Popejoy Hall in October 1996. She was touring to promote her "Relish" album. We had great seats right up front. Third row, Orchestra Left, on the aisle. She was rocking the house; he grabbed my hand and stood me up next to him and danced with me. There was so much joy in him, so much genuine heart -- I looked up into his clear blue eyes and boom. In that instant I knew in my bones this was a man who would never lie to me, never hurt me, always accept me, and love me as much as I loved him. And I was right. And that love never ended.
And it never will.
I've been thinking about Asa's ashes. It was rotten yesterday; a customer made an ill-considered comment that had me fighting tears all day. I was still low this morning, when I got an idea. I put some of his ashes in his little garden, on either side of the front steps, and I don't know why, but it made me feel better. I wondered; if I keep some of his cremains with me, will that make me feel less alone? I'm conflicted about the whole idea, but I can't begin to say why. Well, at least I have plenty of time to work it out - I promised Asa I would take him and his dogs on one last walk, scattering all their ashes together up in the mountains, on a lovely day in May. And so I will.