And They Did

Gay people in Idaho got married today. Done deal in your home state, Ingrid, for the marrying type. 

There is no way we would not have talked on the phone today, were you here.

This is me, calling you.

Ring Those Wedding Bells

You should be here right now, Ingrid, celebrating the fact that Idaho is being pushed into the 21st century. A judge has finally ruled that gay folks in Idaho deserve to be allowed to marry, same as anyone else. And though it's not over yet, it's looking good for our sisters and brothers, Ingrid.

And one of the women who sued? She's from Kuna.

You would have loved this moment.

I do.

Happy Birthday, Pal

Happy birthday, Ingrid. You should be 55 right now, and taking a call from me about how old you are. You should be laughing, biking, eating cake, petting cats, playing the accordion, working, talking to your mom on the phone, making plans for a trip to Idaho or Europe or Carmel, wondering if you've got enough coffee (as if!), making a joke, making love, making a life.

You should be here, with us, celebrating. I guess we have to do that for you, now. So here it is:

You were irreplaceable, though I didn't always know that because I am sometimes a stupid human. The space you left will always be empty. And it will always be full, too. Of memories.

Happy birthday, old girl. I hope that whatever is next includes cake, lots of cake.

Love, Caren

Happy Our Gay Day, Ingrid!

It's that good day in the year, Ingrid, the 37th anniversary of the day we came out to each other.

Thank you, pal, for being there, for being half of what we were together, and most importantly, for being my friend all those years afterward. That first love we experienced together has lived in my heart all these years as the deepest sort of friendship. Thank you.

I miss you, Ingrid. So much. So much.

Love, Caren

Six Years and Another Loss

Six years today, Ingrid, since I sat in an airport in Florida, trying to absorb the news that you were gone. Six years that seem like forever. Six years that seem like a day.

It still happens, out of the blue, that I realize with shock that you are gone. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. I don't think I'll ever be used to it. It stinks that you don't get to be in the world and that the world doesn't get to know you now. That void doesn't grow smaller with time.

This year, there's another loss to mark. Your pal Iggy Bob, the cat that's in the photo at the top right of this page, finally joined you wherever you are. I hope you are both happy to see each other and thinking of nothing else.

I'm thinking of you. I'm missing you.

I love you, pal.