These are just few of my favorite things

I had a great 2 years in the U.K. Life as a student is anyway super. The backdrop of awesome places like Keele and Manchester only add to the charm! Even though I never intended to stay on forever, now that I'm back almost 4 years, there's a few things I really really miss, and have strong cravings for sometimes! Off the top of my head, in no particular order...
"Full English breakfast" at Weatherspoons. 
Fried eggs with runny yolks, crisp bacon and baked beans. 
Sausages and mash. 
Heat and eat meals from MnS Food. 
Cheap wine. 
Carrot cake. 
Angel cake. 
Red velvet cake. 
ANY cake. 
Daylight at 8pm. 
Weeknights at KPA with friends. 
Cafeteria food. 
Weekly trips to grocery stores. 
10 trip bus tickets. 
Random £1 shopping. 
Trafford center and Arndale. 
Train journeys. 
Bus rides. 
Strangers holding the door for you.
Politeness.
Random kindness.
Huge tress with bright blossoms. 
Primark. Shoes. Dresses! 
Steak. 
Pubs. 
Doner and fries. 
Afghan food joints. 
Curry mile. 
Counselling at Beacon. 
London. 
Being alone. 
Random walks.
Iceland.
Christmas.
Autumn!
Frost. Snow.
Choice of alcohol.
Variety of cleaning stuff - wipes, sprays, mops...
Hot chocolate.

Uh oh..that's longer than I expected. Got to find a way to visit soon! :) 

Difficult decisions

My grandmother is very unwell. She has been deteriorating for the last few weeks. It is heart-breaking to see her shriveling like that. Of course I want her to get better. Of course I want her to get out of bed and walk around like I am used to seeing her. A part of me knows though, that the possibility of that happening is quite bleak. It is something all of us have been told indirectly by the doctor.

Last week, she stopped all food and water intake and was semi-conscious for almost the entire day - flitting in and out of wakefulness and sleep. That's when the time came for one of the most difficult decisions. She is lucky in that she is surrounded by her children and grandchildren who love her dearly. But having so many people care for you complicates matter too. Every one of us wants the best for her. Each of us want her to 'be back'. Yet, there is a fundamental difference of opinions and values. While some have deep faith in medical miracles, others are of the opinion that prolonging her pain is unnecessary.

The question was, whether to admit her to a hospital or continue to care at home. It was hope vs. acceptance of a painful reality. But more than that, it was also the guilt - of giving up too easily, of not having done enough. After much deliberation, disagreement and drama, it was decided that she would be moved to a hospital. So that she could get round the clock professional attention, so that if there was even the slightest chance of her recovery - it wasn't missed.

It has been almost 4 days now. She is in the ICU. Only allowed visitors for 30 minutes in the morning and 30 minutes in the evening. Undergoing multiple tests everyday. With tubes stuck down her nose and wrist. Knowing her, I am guessing she is terrified. Her fear of abandonment must be stronger than ever before.

What is the point of this, I wonder. I understand why my elders made the decision they did. I know it was not an easy one. Yet I can't help but think - what if we had a different view of life and death? What if prolonging life artificially did not trump respecting death? Why are we doing this to her? So she lives on for a few more weeks? Are we really doing anything to reduce her pain? Or just consoling ourselves that we didn't let go. And who is it that we are trying to convince? We love her, we all do. Why does it have to be proved this way?

Tears

If you'd pause to think, you would see
my tears hold the answers that you seek
do you really seek answers, i often wonder
for i don't hear you pause
i hear your questions
and the anguish behind them
and i wish i could put the tears into words
but i can't
they flow, when there are no words.
i have always been
at a loss for spoken word
smiles and tears i am easy with.
my tears are not a means
to seek vengeance or to hurt
to punish or to rub in.
they are an expression
of a girl who is at a loss for spoken words.

Memories

My stomach hurt from laughing so much. This man had a wicked wicked sense of humor! I don't think I have laughed like this for decades now. As a divorced, reclusive workaholic 50-something, I did not give myself much opportunity to lighten up and enjoy.

I met J on an online dating site. I am quite a skeptic when it comes to connecting with people via internet. Call me conservative, old-school, whatever. I just don't think it's safe! But a friend of mine - one of the few non-work-humans I am in regular contact with - created a 'profile' for me and insisted on playing the matchmaker. I am not sure what made me indulge her, but I did. And I must admit, I'm glad about it!

The first person to 'express interest' in my profile was J. His profile described him as a teenager trapped in a middle-aged man's body. I found that funny; and with more than necessary goading from my friend, I started talking to him through chat. Our interests matched on many levels, and differed on many more. I had never come across anyone like J. He seemed to have interests ranging from wine to cricket, Harry Potter to Jagjit Singh, World wars to cottage industries. He seemed to know something about everything. He had strong opinions about politics, philosophy, science, economics, the list seemed endless! Yet somehow, he seemed real, grounded. Not once did I feel out of my depth or that I was interacting with a pretentious douche. After almost a week of near constant chatter about everything under the sun, J suggested we meet (his exact words: "'coz frankly my dear...my fingers hurt from all the typing!"). 

So here we are, 5 hours after we first met in person - having the best time I have had in years. To be completely honest, I don't think I am attracted to J. I don't think he is attracted to me either. But he seems like a terrific person. He reminds me of my ex-wife in some weird way. We were great together. She was my best friend for the longest time. My pillar of support, my confidante, my strength. No, it's not how you think it is. We did not part ways because I am gay. She knew about it. Maybe not when she fell in love with me...but soon after. 

We were really young then. Maybe it was foolish to get married knowing fully well that we would never be everything that the other wanted. But this was the 1980s. I couldn't dare to openly declare my sexuality. I don't think I can do it even today! I was not too sure about my sexuality either... But both of us were sure of one thing - that we loved each other's company. And in the innocence and recklessness of our youth, decided that that was all it would take for us to live happily ever after. Our families gladly consented to the match. 

Neither of us realized how frustrating it would get - and how soon! Not just because there was no sex in the marriage. We had an unsaid understanding. Both of us could gratify our sexual needs outside the marriage. I was naive enough to believe that this arrangement was flawless. I was in for a shock when 4 years after our marriage - almost 10 years since we had known each other - she declared that she was pregnant. And that she thought it was best to raise the child with its biological father. Needless to say, I  was devastated. I felt cheated, used. Why couldn't she just have sex without getting attached? I even tried reasoning with her. Told her that we could raise the child as our own. I would be the best father there ever was. She trampled over my heart by telling me that she did not love me anymore. That both of us were not in college now and one of us had to be an adult an put an end to our crazy "social experiment" that we called marriage. 

'Don't tell me you missed my finest joke!' J's voice jolted me back to the present. I couldn't keep reminiscing over something that happened almost 20 years ago. Why then, did it still feel so fresh? Why did it still hurt so bad?