About two years ago, I decided to leave my longtime home of NYC and travel across the country to make a new life in Ashland, Oregon. OMG, what was I thinking??? Just kidding. I am liking it here. It is not New York and of course there are so many people and things that I miss, but it has been good for me. It's beautiful and so much quieter here that I'm forced to actually relax and have times when I do nothing. You know what? It is actually healthy to do that. Who knew.
One of the reasons I chose to leave NYC was because of the death of my mentor and friend, Donna Krampf. I blogged about this a year ago. In a weird way, I was inspired by her death to take a chance and make a huge change in my life. Recently a close friend and college classmate of hers found my blog post and emailed me. It was so lovely to hear from someone who understood what a loss it was not to have Donna around anymore. Two years have gone by and I can honestly say that the move was the right decision for me at the time. Even in death, Donna continued to give me good advice.
It has been a time of death for me lately it seems. I guess I am getting to that age, depressing as that sounds. (This from someone who still has never been to a funeral.) My uncle from when I was a young child died a month ago. His name was Lou Przybylowicz. He taught me how to ski, sing along to Rod Stewart and Abba, and the importance of a good pierogi. When I was four, he taught me how to spell his name and wherever we went, he would show off this talent of mine. Maybe this was the reason I ended up such a good speller!
My grandfather is also dying. He has been ill for a few years, so while this turn for the worse isn't unexpected, you're never quite prepared for it either. Instead of going to Mexico as I'd planned this week, I'll be going back to Dayton to see him for what will probably be the last time.
I bring all of this up not to be morbid, but because in celebrating my 2-year anniversary away from NYC, I got to thinking about memories and what they mean and of course with all of the death surrounding me lately, I've been spending more time on the past than usual. Memories are a bit like rain pebbling a window. You can almost see the full picture, but not quite, and as time passes, different aspects of a memory seem to come through.
Whenever I go to NYC I feel like I'm coming home and strangely, that is the same way I feel when I think about people I love who are no longer with me. I suppose that's how it'll always be, no matter where I live.
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