Lightning Bolts

The thing about good days is the speed in which the universe, God, or whatever greater power it is that you believe in, can spin around and strike you with a ferocious bolt of lightning, burying you under in a hellfire of hurt, pain and desperation.

These bolts of lightning remind you of the cruelest, most painful reality of all: You. Are. Human. And being human fucking sucks.

I still remember the first glass of wine we shared. It was bright, bold and deep ruby red—just like her lips.

The way she swaggered into the restaurant with her unruly curls and tight black dress made my heart leap into my throat. I would never forget the way my fingers tingled as I gently embraced her and introduced myself.

She was bright like the sunshine in a life that had only ever been shrouded in dark clouds. Pure and golden, she radiated everything good on this Earth and I knew she had to be mine.

Surely someone like me could never deserve someone like her...

“What type of wine do you drink?” she asked, her azure blue eyes glazing over the menu before flicking up to rest on mine. They captivated me and made me forget my own name, let alone what type of wine I drank.

“Merlot.” The words left my mouth without any input from my brain.

And so we shared a bottle of Merlot as we shared all of our deepest desires and darkest secrets.

This was it. She was “The One” and I had just had the greatest day of my life.

A month turned into a year and once again, we found ourselves sharing another glass of Merlot—her in a white dress, me in a tux.

A vision, that’s what I thought as I watched her from across the room, her lavishly bold red lips, wrapped around the edge of a crystalline wine glass.

This! This had to be the greatest day of my life!

Little did I know then, that in saying yes to the sun, I was also saying yes to the pain.

Two years and nine months later, we cracked multiple bottles of wine with our friends and family as we celebrated the mini version of us turning one. One whole goddamn year old.

So intimidating was the thought of bringing her into this world. Could we protect her from all that was horrible? Could we teach her all that is right from wrong? Could we show her what it is to truly, madly and unconditionally love? Could we show her what it was to be human?

Of course we could. Because we knew it. We’d known it from that first date. From that first look. From that first sip.

Until, that is, we realised that we were speeding towards the precarious, unfinished bridge that was our life together.

“Stay, don’t go,” I said.

“It’s okay, don’t fear,” she said back.

But I did fear. I feared for her, I feared for me, I feared for our daughter.

We were launching towards a life without one another. I was so fucking afraid.

And do you know what she did? She strutted her way towards the closet where we kept all of our wine (and our linens, but mostly our wine) like she was on a Victoria’s Secret catwalk rather than on her way to a bloody, insurmountable battle.

She pulled out a bottle of wine—the same Merlot we shared on our first date.

We are coming full circle, I thought. We were honouring our opening as we prepare to watch it close. She really was walking towards those Victoria’s Secret angel wings... God’s angel wings.

Silently, she poured two glasses to the brim with rich, red liquid gold and pushed my glass towards me.

Bright, piercing blue eyes locked on mine. She didn’t need to say anything because the clink of glass on glass said it all: fuck cancer and I love you. All at once.

This was it. This was the ferocious bolt of lightning about to bury my heart in a hellfire of hurt.

Without that first glass of Merlot, she wouldn’t have flashed her brilliant smile, she wouldn’t have stolen my heart, she wouldn’t have died in my arms.

I watched this strong, brave women, slip away into nothingness. My bones filled with sorrow and my soul with bitterness.

Being human fucking sucks.

To be human is to be capable of love and to be capable of love is to be capable of excruciating pain.

It’s not for the faint of heart, I thought as I watched her disappear. For without being both strong and brave there was no way to withstand the torture of heartbreak.

And losing her was the epitome of heartbreak.

The lights went out and I wasn’t sure they would ever turn on again. I wasn’t I would ever be whole again. When would these shards of glass stop stabbing into my heart again and again and again?

Like a glass of wine, our love was rich and sweet. Like a rose forever trapped in eternal winter, she was no longer bold and ruby red.

All that was left was a sorrow of plain, insentient colours.

She taught me a lot, my bold, ruby red rose. Drink lots, embrace often, love ferociously, for we are all unequivocally going to die some day.

The universe spun me around, flipped me upside down and inside out and struck me with a lightning bolt so malevolent and debilitating that I thought I would never smile again.

Then the sun peaked out from behind the clouds, the birds flew down and sung their theatrical tune in my ears and the ocean waves ebbed, flowed and crashed into the shore with grace and determination.

The thing about bad days is that eventually, the good days start to roll again and we are reminded of the greatest, most bittersweet reality of all: We. Are. Human. And being human is fucking incredible.