Dear Levi,
In the training zone today, I listened in on calls. They called it "shadowing." I heard a call to the sweetest, sweetest little old lady. The way I picture GiGi. The way I want to be. And when we initially asked for her husband, the primary mortgagor, she had to tell us, "Oh, he just passed away..." It was so, so sad to hear that. What do you say? She was softly crying, but I could hear a smile in her voice over the condolensces as she said, "It's okay, sweetheart. I just love hearing his name."
And that... wow. That is how I still feel about you. Always have. Levi. No... Levi Pierce Fowler. I remember when you taught me to spell it right - Pi, not Pei. Like the mathematical equation, so fitting for someone so genius as you. Fowler, like in the Bible twice. Levi, like the best and brightest of the Israelite tribes. Levi, another name for Matthew, after your dad. I always dreamed to someday hear "Dr. Fowler, L.P." Like the sign I wanted to make for you at the airport.
I loved your name... still do. It makes me so proud, the way I know it makes your dad proud, your grandma, and your little brother and sister. I dreamed to one day share your name, did you know? Mrs. Levi Pierce Fowler. It would be such an incredible honor... it makes my stomach tremble just typing it out onto my pitiful little laptop. I would never deserve that. But I love hearing it.
If you never come back, I will always be just like her.
Levi Pierce Fowler, the love of your life, right?
No, he chose to move on.
Oh, I'm so sorry...
It's alright, sweetheart. I just love to hear his name.
Levi.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Sunday, September 8, 2013
Houston
America feels so clean. It's hard to describe, really, how just stepping off the plane and looking at perfect little white clouds on a brilliant cerulean sky just feels cleaner than the dull gray skies of Kiev, the dim green skies of Frankfurt. There is just this freshness in the air, this ambiance of light and polished tiles and asphalt for miles. And grass. Oh, my word. Real, lush green grass flooding up to the sidewalk. I just want to kick off my flats and dance around and fall oh happily onto the lawn outside the airport, under the big blue Texas sky, and deflate in relief to be back on sturdy US soil. This has been a hard trip, you see. The trip home - it was a breeze. I hardly felt any fatigue, every connection was smooth and effortless, the bus ride even mercifully uneventful. But coming back here? It must be God's hand because the adversity has been incredible. After a grueling, sweltering bus ride all day and night, rank with the smell of fermented vodka seeping from the pores of the fat Russian man behind me, America is beautiful. It is perfect. Except that you are here... and the memory of all we were. And the reality of your betrayal. You left me, Levi, and you never came back. Maybe you never will. You made me a promise, a pinky promise, and you sealed it with a kiss. I trusted you... with all my heart. And I can pray you come back, but no matter what I do here... America is so beautiful, and yet, it is so empty now.
Birthday
Dear Levi,
Tonight I saw you across the way at church and you weren't with Anna. You were sitting with your guys and for the first time, I felt hope. I knew it was a delusion, that she wasn't far away and would soon have you again at her side, but I closed my eyes and tried to capture the tears inside where no one would see them, judge them. Because in that moment, I could almost see what my prayers, answered, would look like. And I knew it wasn't real. It was just a dream. A cruel, bitter, endless dream.
And when I walked into the gym drop off the gifts for the Lande's little boys, I walked right by you and her on the way out. It's funny, almost. I saw her before I saw you. So beautiful, so perfect. I don't recognize you anymore. I think my memory is slipping away a little bit more each day, until the biggest connection I have with you is the sound of your voice. The memory of your taste and smell. When I saw you tonight, with her, so close in the gym, it was like being shot in the gut. It was hard to walk by and hold my composure, because I was afraid the tears would start falling before I could get out of your view. Not that you would see them, because you don't watch me. You never watch me. I can't remember what it felt like that you ever did. Was it ever real, that you looked over at me on the bus that night on the way to the ice skating rink? How could it have been real? I hope she makes you happy. By your facebook picture, you are very happy.
Some people don't think you ever were in love with me at all. The very thought is... devastating. I never deserved you, I know. You were the noblest, sweetest, most hopeful person I'd ever met. And I loved every thing about you, every single thing. You inspired me, and even now, your memory continues to. But it's a two edged sword, because it kills me as much as it pushes me. But that you never loved me? I went back to our blog, to the first posts. To my favorite, the one you wrote on January 28 , 2011. About turtles and how many seconds between our last post... your name spelled out in binary... about dancing and lying in the warmth of the sun in the grass together... about loving me. Loving me, Noelle. You called me the sweetest, most precious names in that post. And reading it, I can't help but know deep down inside that you did love me once. And it gives me.... a sad hope... a silent prayer... this tiniest, faintest, and probably doomed hope... that you could someday love me again.
Tonight I walked around the lake Hefner and saw a sailboat, and the Big Dipper, and a gorgeous moon rising over perfect waves dipped in soft crimson light. It was magical. It was... incredibly heartbreaking. Like the memory of so many promises, so many dreams. It wasn't just my best friend I lost. It was a life. It is the next fifty years, our children, my wedding day. I walked around the lake and held back the tears, because I'm trying to be strong for you. You would want your girl to be strong, to be brave. I am trying to honor the person you would want me to be. But tonight, you are having a date with Anna. And I walked around the lake alone, rent by grief that may never, ever be healed.
Tonight was my twenty-fourth birthday.
Tonight I saw you across the way at church and you weren't with Anna. You were sitting with your guys and for the first time, I felt hope. I knew it was a delusion, that she wasn't far away and would soon have you again at her side, but I closed my eyes and tried to capture the tears inside where no one would see them, judge them. Because in that moment, I could almost see what my prayers, answered, would look like. And I knew it wasn't real. It was just a dream. A cruel, bitter, endless dream.
And when I walked into the gym drop off the gifts for the Lande's little boys, I walked right by you and her on the way out. It's funny, almost. I saw her before I saw you. So beautiful, so perfect. I don't recognize you anymore. I think my memory is slipping away a little bit more each day, until the biggest connection I have with you is the sound of your voice. The memory of your taste and smell. When I saw you tonight, with her, so close in the gym, it was like being shot in the gut. It was hard to walk by and hold my composure, because I was afraid the tears would start falling before I could get out of your view. Not that you would see them, because you don't watch me. You never watch me. I can't remember what it felt like that you ever did. Was it ever real, that you looked over at me on the bus that night on the way to the ice skating rink? How could it have been real? I hope she makes you happy. By your facebook picture, you are very happy.
Some people don't think you ever were in love with me at all. The very thought is... devastating. I never deserved you, I know. You were the noblest, sweetest, most hopeful person I'd ever met. And I loved every thing about you, every single thing. You inspired me, and even now, your memory continues to. But it's a two edged sword, because it kills me as much as it pushes me. But that you never loved me? I went back to our blog, to the first posts. To my favorite, the one you wrote on January 28 , 2011. About turtles and how many seconds between our last post... your name spelled out in binary... about dancing and lying in the warmth of the sun in the grass together... about loving me. Loving me, Noelle. You called me the sweetest, most precious names in that post. And reading it, I can't help but know deep down inside that you did love me once. And it gives me.... a sad hope... a silent prayer... this tiniest, faintest, and probably doomed hope... that you could someday love me again.
Tonight I walked around the lake Hefner and saw a sailboat, and the Big Dipper, and a gorgeous moon rising over perfect waves dipped in soft crimson light. It was magical. It was... incredibly heartbreaking. Like the memory of so many promises, so many dreams. It wasn't just my best friend I lost. It was a life. It is the next fifty years, our children, my wedding day. I walked around the lake and held back the tears, because I'm trying to be strong for you. You would want your girl to be strong, to be brave. I am trying to honor the person you would want me to be. But tonight, you are having a date with Anna. And I walked around the lake alone, rent by grief that may never, ever be healed.
Tonight was my twenty-fourth birthday.
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