The first
time I cried in front of him was on a
sunday.
It was January I believe- but I can't tell you for sure. He
always tended to have that effect on me. He was such an easy going
person that many of our memories together went unrecorded and
unwritten, only to be remembered in the torrential cavities of our
minds. That was quite a big step for me, considering I had always
considered myself an organized person with a healthy tendency to
create list after list reminding myself of what needed to be
done.
It was only until I experienced the unconventional method of simply
sitting back and letting things happen that I realized that my
feverish list-making habits were nothing more than a bulleted way
to stress over ever-changing things. There was no real method to
the lazy madness ensued by Jacob and I, so I supposed calling it
such is misleading.
Together we experienced the madness of life itself in its untouched
form, untainted by the hands of us and humanity around us.
We learned that when you leave things to happen, they occur the way
they are intended to.
Sometimes a baby bird must die for a flower to grow. Sometimes you
must let someone leave if they aren't doing you any
good.
The first time I cried in front of him was when my dog died.
I had never been good at crying in front of people. When I was
little and I would find myself with tears streaming down my cheeks,
I would go stand in front of the mirror and stare directly at my
red, distressed face. I could only ever stare for a couple moments
before I'd find myself starting to giggle at the atrociously
hideous face before me. Snot nosed and puffy eyed I'd end up
full out laughing at myself because I couldn't even believe how
ugly I looked with those stressed out tears pouring out of my eyes
and that downturned gasping mouth that made me look like a fish out
of water.
It sounds vain, trust me I know, but ever since then I had taught
myself never to cry in front of people. Never in a million years
would I have expected myself to be sobbing into the arms of a boy
as kind and beautiful as Jacob was (my ugly crying face was
completely not expected to ever see the light of day).
But that was the thing about Jacob.
Everything was different with him.
While I cried, Jacob didn't make a sound. No comforting hum
came out of his chest and no gentle words left the salmon pink lips
that kissed me ever so softly on the forehead. Instead of trying to
tell me everything was going to be okay, he just held me.
He rocked me back and forth calmy, his strong arms holding my
trembling frame in the secure sort of way that made me feel at
home.
With him I learned the value of silence. The undeniable worth of
letting someone pour their heart out to you and listening as a
student rather than as a teacher. Theres a lesson to be found in
everything that happens, but sometimes it's best if that lesson
goes unsaid.
I still think about him, Jacob I mean. All the time in fact. His
presence is always there.
There is no sadness in his absence in my life however. Just a
thankful presence of memories that lay fondly in my heart.
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iwishiwasdifferent