So I look up this man/boy I remember as a cute surfer, crush worthy, a little but plenty back then older than me, who only knew me as one of the friends of younger sisters to his surfing buddies - that guy. In my mind was his salty sun blond hair (weren't they all blonded by the sun, weren't they all beautiful?), his tan and most especially, his grin. Cocky, in the nice way. That's what's on my mind. Not a stalking, just curiosity. Whatever happened to that boy?
The first thing I come across is something about his wife, someone whom I've never met. His wife, who has a rare and bitterly aggressive cancer, attacking parts of her body that even cancer usually leaves alone, taking them from her. I see a photo of them, arms around each other, standing on a dock on the river near my old hometown, small gentle smiles, twin mouths, bodies melted together, almost one. He still looks like a surfer guy, she looks like a surfer girl. They are beautiful. And I am humbled. Again.
But I can't think about it that way for long, in fact, because then it's all about me again. The whole power of her/their walking this unchosen journey is...them walking this unchosen journey with such grace, jolting me out of my no harm intended/done but trivial self, looking to find a surfer boy grown to a man. Stop. Right there.