So, today I was poking through Shakespeare nodes. I saw The Tempest. I was reminded of when I was Miranda in December. This was for my school, a Community College. No big deal, but loads of memories. Thinking of that play led to thoughts of another play: Measure for Measure (for some reason my school has a hard-on for Shakespeare). I was Juliet in that one. I had a huge pregnant belly.. knocked up by Claudio. So I started thinking of the guy who played Claudio. I smiled, because I like him so much. I remembered him talking to me, and how his hands felt on my shoulders. I remembered the way I felt all through rehearsals. Electricity; a play! I thought about this guy talking to me in between scenes. The only one who REALLY ever talked to me about any REAL things. He understood ways about me that nobody there did. We didn't know eachother that intricately, but he was plugged into some level that allowed him to see my landscape. We both understood some intangible thing about oneanother...I don't know. I liked him best out of everyone in the cast; out of everyone in any cast that we'd been in together, and there were quite a few. He asked me to dinner once, not as a date, but as a bridge. For conversation. Because he knew there was more to me than was being revealed in our talks in the theater. He knew we could exchange many more ideas. I knew too, but I was so terminally shy that I couldn't accept. Social phobias or something. Something.. eh.

Anyway, so that's what I was thinking about this morning. This guy.

And tonight I got a phone call telling me he's dead.

Something to do with his heart I imagine. He had a transplant several years ago. Leukemia before that. He'd fought hard against medical problems for years and years and won everytime. Or, at least, lived everytime. So I'm guessing it had something to do with his heart but I am not sure. Details are sketchy right now because he only just died this morning.

I should feel something more than I do. My reaction should not be: "Oh.. okay.. I understand, and there is no longer any chance that we might go to dinner."

Maybe my feelings for death were used up when another died two summers ago. I had actually talked with him about this close friend dying. He was very interested in how it made me feel. He wanted to know exactly what it was like to lose someone. Because he'd come close to death so many times, he wanted to know what it was like on the other side. He wanted to know how his family and friends would feel if he died. He wanted me to somehow tell him.

But I couldn't describe it to him because what I felt was so overwhelmingly everything. Maybe that is why I accept this now so calmly? I ran the gamut of emotions for her then and I cannot feel them again for him or anyone else? I do not cry and I do not ask why and I do not think that it isn't fair and I do not wonder if he can see me now and I do not wonder if he knew what was coming and I am not angry and I am not shocked and I'm not quite sad or guilty or depressed or confused and there are no what ifs in my head.

The only thing I feel is slight disgust at my own inability to feel for this person who I know I love.

But, oh my god. I felt something as I was typing just now. I remember saying a thing to him as I was leaving the theater one night. "I love you," I said. I remember his smile and he said, "thank you," and meant it.
So he knew that. So, good.
For that, I feel happy.