Staying Strong

"I still can't believe he's dead."

I texted Lion Wednesday night following the Dave Matthews concert in New Jersey. NovaCat invited me and I was thrilled to go and be uplifted by Dave's joyous strumming and dancing. What I took away from the concert: I still love Dave as much as I did in high school, if not more, Carter is a bada** and the IZOD center becomes one giant bong hit during shows. I had a blast, minus the mom in front of me covering her ears every time I yelled "WOOOOO!" in excitement. Why bother going to a concert if you have sensitive eardrums? Her tween daughter and son and husband (who had a killer hippy swing, by the way) were mortified by her ridiculous display of intolerance.

The concert was just the sort of activity I could handle and I was very thankful NovaCat thought of me that night. I was in great spirits until my cab ride home from Penn Station. I put my iPod on and stared into the city lights around me and the tide of tears that had been low for a few days rose again. Sadness. Grief. Anger. At my city. The "sleepless" city and its roaring nightlife killed Connor; it wasn't just a driver.

Luckily, Lion was up to answer me before I sobbed myself to sleep.

"M-. I know. Hang tough now. He'll always be with us," he wrote back.

"I'm trying... I've been OK this week, until now. Sorry, I know you have a bachelor party to get psyched for."

"No, don't worry. I feel the same as you. Can't make sense of it... or believe it really."

It's been two weeks since Connor's death and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. We all are. I'll think I'm doing OK then "Father and Son" plays on my iPhone or "Bring Him Home" from "Les Miserables" pops up in my dorky "Best of Musicals" playlist. I should edit the song titles to read "DO NOT PLAY RIGHT NOW." Why? How? Who? We were drinking and having a grand ol' time at Brother Jimmy's and Whiskey River just a couple of weeks prior and now none of us can ever look forward to seeing him again, but in memories.

I haven't been motivated to exercise, write or socialize. If you made a pie chart of my priorities, maintaining some sort of athleticism, blogging and spending time with family and friends would make up approximately 85 percent of the circle. I promise to get back on my B (as in blogging) -game very soon. Partying was not in the cards this past weekend so I escaped to Connecticut to spend some down time with mom and dad. Sadly, my intentions to surprise them backfired. Typical. Mom was in high shopping mode for a friend's wedding gift and dad spent both days working in the city. Oh well. At least I got to relax, enjoy a couple of long runs in the sticks, get my doggie fix on for the week, soak up a couple of margaritas with AlyCat and sneak in two solid meals with mom.

I find writing is usually cathartic for me, but I haven't wanted to sit in front of a computer for any amount of time beyond my work shift. Healing for me is talking with friends, spending time alone in my apartment, singing (belting in some cases) along to my favorite music and taking long walks.

Tonight I am meeting three of my closest friends: CalGal, TriGal and Fashionista for dinner at Minetta Tavern. From what I've read so far on Keith McNally's latest endeavor, it seems this evening will be nothing short of inspiring and just the right prescription for Mona's Relaunch 2009.

"This year blows." I wrote my coworker on IM.

"It'll get better," he responded.

One can only hope.