First Goodbye

Dear Anna, 

How do I begin saying goodbye? How am I supposed to say farewell when you're already gone? Even when I said goodbye at the hospital it wasn't real. I can't even process the fact that you're gone when I'm so far from home to feel your absence. Yet all the way across the Atlantic I can feel the loss, even if I can't come close to understanding it.

Where do I begin? You were my first confidant, the dear childhood friend that suddenly goes from neighbor buddy to that first inseparable companion as we faced the difficulties of puberty and life. You were the first person I confided with about boys, and only because you admitted liking them first. I was your copycat! Days on days we spent reading books by the pool, in your basement, in your room. You started your library, and helped me do the same. We loved our books! 

Books weren't the only thing we loved. You introduced me to the fun of crawfishing, and fishing. We were so small but I still remember how quietly we would sit for hours on the dock, taking for granted each other's company, but dang it we were going to catch something!

I remember the early days of our friendship. You were so quiet and I was a little intimidated by that. Nevertheless, in my next memories of you, we ran around like Indians in Alpena summer after summer.

Then we were neighbors! Morning bike rides, pick up sports, and wandering through the woods filled our days. Before I knew it, the constant activities turned into something more as we shared secrets and questions, naive and happy. So many nights walking by the channel, whispering under blankets, and simply just playing cards while you did your treatments. I can't look back at a memory of those years without your face appearing.

I know in high school our activities began to be a bit more sparse: I went to ECA and you graduated before me. Then I was in North Carolina and my brief trips home weren't long enough to spend hours together. The hardest part for me now is looking back and knowing I let us have that space. I know regardless, you heard as many stories about me as I heard about you since our mothers shared stories and secrets about us that they reported back after their daily workouts. I still came home and whenever we talked we could pick back up where we left off.

I still feel so guilty. Guilty that in my mind, whenever I heard you weren't doing well, I knew I should hang out with you just in case. Guilty that I didn't see you. Guilty. I love you so much, and I never even told you. I miss you so much. Why is this message my last to you, but the first I'd sent in ages? 

Everyone keeps saying how they got to say their "last goodbyes" to you at the funeral. I couldn't be at the funeral, I couldn't even be around people who knew you! So many miles away and I feel so alone, but also, so unable to get closure. But how can I get closure on this? How can I say my "last goodbye" when every morning I have to wake up and say goodbye all over again? Every morning, every day, is a new goodbye, and new pain. I'm waiting every second to see if it will be the one in which I shatter. I don't know when it will come, but the ache is always there. And I know I won't get closure on that. 

You touched everyone you met. Whether they knew you forever or just a day, I know you did. Your quiet smile, your love for books and Elfaba, your love for everyone. I hope I can live as well in 80 years as you did in 22. I know I lived in denial that this day would never come, but I know you lived every day like it was this day. Not to say you were perfect, but you come pretty darn close! My heart aches to know that we don't get to keep you down here, but I know there are no regrets. I just hope that through all you taught me and all the love you gave me, I can honor you in some small way, a little bit every day. 

Gosh I miss you. I love you. 

Gabry

Back in Bundoran

SOOO here is another post that I started writing a month and a half ago and never actually published so I'll put up this and then maybe start another post sometime soon1

Well, as much as I forgot it I really truly missed this green, misty island. Met at the airport by Collie and his banana shirt, escorted by Fiddy and already having claimed Jen and Liana (the other American girls in my program), we were quickly on our way to Bundoran and our first week, aka the culture week. While we did attend an awesome conference that included a look into Irish surf culture and a viewing and Q and A session with the movie Waveriders and its director, the week felt more like a chance to settle into the hostel. We got to know the people we´ll be living with for the next 2 months (including Sam, our fourth American) and the mix of Irishmen and Spaniards also staying in the hostel, with a Czech for good measure. I truly feel at home in this place, and I couldn´t say if it´s the people or the familiarity of returning, but I am truly loving it here, other than the terrible cloudy rainy weather, even though last week we had two beautiful sunny days.

Dickie took us hill walking! Known to the typical American as "hiking," rather than go all the way to the better known Cliffs of Moher where you have to pay to climb, we went to Sli

The social life of this place mainly consists in pubbing if you or going and watching waves. I´m not kidding. My new friends have taken me twice to go for a walk down to Main Beach and a quick car ride down the road to see Pmpa and the Black Spot. I have only been to the pub myself once or twice as of yet, one time to see Johnny Gallagher (look him up, he´s a BRILLIANT guitarist and great performer). Other than that, evenings are mainly spent with the majority of the long term residents of the Homefield Hostel sitting around and playing cards, watching TV, or have deep philisophical debates (that actually happened last night, not quite sure if we will repeating that any time soon, ha!)

On Monday we started the actual program, the OITC, or Outdoor Instructor Training Course. Dickie is our instructor.

London!

So I finally made it to London! And Ireland by now, doing the late posts, sorry about it! But London was very enjoyable to say the least. Aside from having a great time with Timi and his family, I was introduced to one of the nicest cities I've ever been to. Other than an interesting first experience trying to figure out the bus system on my own, nothing was too challenging about the new country, probably because they all spoke English. I mean, I wasn't necessarily expecting any challenges but I've always heard the British were a bit stuck up and they proved that false while I was there (although while the Irish are friendly up front, I had to start the conversation with those in London, who were then immediately kind.) My first day in London was mainly a recovery one. Other than going to the store to buy shampoo and conditioner, I mainly stayed in. Regardless, even on that short trip i could feel the energy of London. I've never been to a city that feels quite that alive! But Thursday I finally got to do all my sightseeing (thanks to Timi, I know he didn't necessarily want to show the American around.)

We began by taking the tube to Tower bridge, which I am standing in front of below. I learned that there is nothing interesting about London Bridge, while Tower Bridge is the fancy one. 

We walked by the Tower of London, and I took another more pictures of the Tower Bridge from the other side of the Thames. As we walked down the water front, which was very nice, we made our way toward Shakespeare´s Globe and the Tate Museum.

 

The picture of Shakespeare´s Globe is above, or rather the new structure built around the outside. After a quick picture on the wrong side of the barrier and a peak inside, Timi and I continued on our way to the Tate, which is a free museum. After one floor of thought-provoking art, my hunger got the best of me, and since Timi wanted me to try Nando´s specifically, we headed out to see St. Paul´s Cathredal on our way to the Tube.

Before Timi and I headed on our way, we got a quick picure on one of the many bridges over the Thames. Timi thought we could find a Nando´s by the London Eye (also near the London Dungeon, Big Ben, the London Aquarium, and many other awesome attractions we couldn´t enjoy in our hunger) but with no luck we were on our way again, headed toward Buckingham Palace and Green Park.

While we planned on seeing Buckingham Palace after dinner, Nando´s and exhaustion proved a fatal combination and we cut our sightseeing short, but not before walking around Picadilly Circus, which was a beautiful area of town.

After a lovely day, and overall lovely visit with the Borges Da Silva family, I headed to Ireland on Sunday after fun Friday and Saturday nights with Timi´s friends in Wimbledon and another place I honestly don´t remember the name of, most likely because it´s spelled differently than it is pronounced. Regardless, I loved London, I loved it more than I could imagine a small town girl like me could love any city, and I hope to return one day.

The sun setting behind Big Ben and the House of Parliament, looking across the Thames at the London Eye and the many other attractions

Slán

I say "slán" because according to google translate that means "bye" in Irish, but knowing google translate that could mean "ham sandwich." Regardless, I will stick to my guns and say "slán" to everyone as I depart for Europe on Monday. In one day. In approximately 36 hours. And in that time I need to wash a month and half's worth of laundry (thank God for Christmas clothes), unpack from my latest trip, and spend quality time with all the people I'll miss (although that last one is optional). Thankfully, my father helped me make my linkdin account yesterday and hopefully I'll be able to get myself set up with a job waiting for when I return from the Emerald Isle in 3 months. Ha. Well it doesn't hurt to dream big.

For any of you reading my blog for the first time (which will probably be a few), I'm going to use this as a way to communicate my Irish adventures to all my beloved fans, uh, I mean friends and family. Thus I will post every adventure, whether it's on a surfboard or a catwalk, and every attractive Irishman encounter for those of my friends who believe that is my sole purpose and the only reason I should be transversing the Atlantic (because who doesn't want to meet her soulmate when she'll have to leave him a short two months later) but you know, honesty is my number one policy so buckle up people, you're in for a ride.

That is if I ever actually wash my laundry and pack some clothes.

My dearest Mama has reached the point of pity for me that as she walks by me lying on the couch or sitting on the floor eating chocolate instead of packing she just quietly shakes her head, giving up a long time ago on encouraging me. The last thing I heard from her was a mumbled "Well you made your bed, now sleep in it" as she passed me on my third hour of netflix. I told myself this blog is desperately more important than packing. Will update if I ever actually make it to London. 

Well, slán for now y'all! Wish me luck!