If you don’t already know about my grandma shirley’s matchmaking club, that would be helpful to read about first. They are short reads: here & here.
I went on a date with a man who had recently and unexpectedly lost his mom. While it was clear she was his best friend, he didn’t appear to be in a state of perpetual sadness. On the contrary, he was vibrant and enthusiastic as if her passing was all the more reason to live each moment to its fullest.
When I got home from my first date with him, he texted me photos of him with his mom. And in one of those photos, he was wearing a white shirt with a small red rose where a pocket would be.
And so, of course, I went on more dates with him. He was fun and attractive, he was successful, and he was so crazy about me that it was intoxicating. And I didn’t mind, I loved his whole vibe.
I never know how to write about the break-up part of these stories. For now, I will just say this one ended chaotically, and it made me sad. It was clear that he wasn’t my person, but as I went out on a walk shortly after our breakup to talk to my Grandma Shirley about it, I mostly wanted to ask her: why?
When it comes to the afterlife, I imagine some sort of all-knowing transcendence that happens when you cross over from life to death. Like you keep the essence of who you are, but you become filled with the knowledge of what is real and what is not. Of what is hidden and what is true.
So I couldn’t understand why Grandma Shirley would match me with this guy, and I was sure to tell her that. But the strangest thing happened, I felt his mother come through. She said she was sorry; it was her idea. He was hurting, and she wanted him to find a new best friend. And she really thought it could be me.
