Crafting Variety

Cupcake in Memory

Trigger warning for those sensitive to suicide topics.

Just for the record, I love cupcakes. Moist, delectable cupcakes with frosting. Lots of frosting.

And I can’t eat them now without a physical reaction. My gut clenches and tears find their way to my eyes. Oh, I still eat them and enjoy them, but I can’t have one without remembering that day. The day my friend took his life.

I walked into the student center where I work after calling Mark to find out where he was. No answer. Not unusual, he often didn’t hear his phone or got tied up with work. He’d meet me in the pub later like he always did, I assumed.

Down the stairs into the main corridor, and met one of the dining employees. She had a tray of cupcakes in her hands.

“Those look scrumptious.” And knowing the college’s dining service, I knew they would be.

“Want one? They are leftover from a meeting. We were trying them out.”

Tell me, who passes up a free cupcake that looked like chocolate heaven? Not I. So I walked into the pub, cupcake in hand, and filtered lots of greedy looks and comments to abscond with the treasure in my hands. I ordered food, then found a table and texted Mark. Hey, Mark, just checking on you to make sure you are alive. The amount of horror I feel at that choice of words now is superseded only by the fucking cupcake.

I ate my lunch, chatting with coworkers that stopped by, inquiring why I was dining alone. We joked that I got stood up by my work spouse.

And then I ate that cupcake. It was delicious. Everything perfect a cupcake could be. I was close to licking the frosting off of the paper, it was that good.

All the while my dear friend’s body was getting colder. All the while a small amount of blood dripped down from where the bullet had entered his skull. All the while the gun had dropped to the floor after the shot rang out.

My friend was dead. And I was indulging. The two items are not related, I know this. Yet they will be forever linked in my mind.

The kind, sweet soul that he was would tell me that of course I should eat the cupcake. That I should always eat the cupcake.

I will, Mark. I promise. I just wish you were here to share it with me.

Crafting Variety

Starlight

I finally switched over the calendar in my loft to December. Yes, I realize it’s the end of the month and the new year is close upon us. I haven’t spent much time in my loft, which I use for writing, yoga, and where most of my books are, for quite a while. Life, work, busy, busy, busy…you know how it is.

Now that I have a couple days of reprieve, I am picking away at the clutter and clearing space for peace and creativity. Finally, I flipped the calendar to December, already wondering which of the lovely calendars I received for Yule and Christmas will take its place.starlight

I stopped all movement when I saw this calendar page. I think my heart and my breath both caught and remained suspended for a long, long moment. This page is a gift, a message, from Tanya, my beloved friend who passed two and a half years ago.

She called me Starlight in every email, her name for me. The artwork I know she would have adored. Every part of this picture represents our friendship, well, more than that. She was the sister of my heart, and always will be.

This page was a reminder. To clear out the clutter, physical and emotional, to focus on what matters, and settle into my core being. To write. To dance. To laugh. To revel in beauty and magic.

I may have pushed that sign away, caught up in the spin of life, but the universe waited until I was ready to listen. So with gratitude for my beautiful friend, I smile and breathe deeply. I settle in to the core of my being, ready to move forward. Knowing she is always looking out for me.

Perhaps I’ll change the calendar pages promptly this year.