Escape From Reason @shipsandmoons - Tumblr Blog

Sunday morning, on the way to @thegingerwall Funeral, I prayed about what to read in the car to prepare myself. This is Philippians. I read up into chapter three weeping. God is good and in God's infinite wisdom God loves. Take heart, even when it's broken.

Grant Harding and Finding a New Normal

Grant Curry Harding 11/20/87 - 10/14/15 “Oh, HELLO Mary! Uhhahahaha, you’re SO funny, Mary, really, it’s like you don’t even TRY!” The above photo is from my ‘surprise’ birthday party in 2010.

I’m at a loss. I sit here this morning, on the seventh day of your absence, undone. When the idea of Ethan and I finally getting married started popping up, one plaguing thought on my mind was how your and my relationship would change. What does it mean to love someone this much AND love someone in an entirely different sense, and how can we stay this way in a respectful manner? You’ve always been my non-romantic, extremely platonic in every sense of the word soul mate kindred spirit. What we had felt monumental and more permanent, but not just permanent in the future sense -a permanence that has been going on long before we were ever created, perhaps the way that people should treat each other and love others. You knew it, I knew it, and in that knowledge we created magic. I’ve loved you for years, and you’ve loved me. You’ve cared for me, and humbly allowed me to take care of you. We had a devotion to one another that is incomparable to almost anyone I know, until I met my husband. It was quite a few patient and delicate conversations with Ethan when I tried to explain what you and I were, Gail and Hard, weirdoes at large, desperate to understand each other at every moment, and hardly ever struggling to do so, and never interested in each other in THAT way. But, Grant, you set a standard for other men in my life to follow.

I know that these posts that we are writing are not for you, but for everyone left behind reeling. All of this is light shown on the different parts of you we all experienced. We are finally putting a little more pieces together so we can love you more and know you better.

I remember almost everything, but to be fair, I remembered almost everything before you died, too, because you made me into a better human, a more loving and beautiful woman, funnier, stronger, braver. We didn’t just help each other be more us, we helped each other be better ‘us’es.

We’d ‘break’ into my ex’s mill loft in NoDa to try and play N64, never be able to figure it out, no matter how many times we tried and ALWAYS found ourselves at his piano, playing together, making stuff up or working on each other’s current project. Or worse, when you’d make me play alone while you watched and listened. Whenever you made me do that was always a horrific and freeing moment. You loved listening, and I was always nervous playing, but that’s what we would do sometimes. When that ex and I got into a particularly huge fight, your instant remedy was a Possum Hunt at the Padgett house. Sure, we never needed a reason for one, but you knew I’d feel better anyway.

Actually, that possum hunt leads to a great Gail-Hard story. We had all split up into two team cars: Matt’s and Yours. I was in Matt’s car team. Our car drove and drove for maybe 45 minutes, shining lights looking for anything moving in the dark night, rushing into the grass beyond fences. It wasn’t too long before we came upon your team, stranded on the side of the road. After much deliberation, it was decided that Matt would ferry people back to his house and bring back supplies from the garage so we could figure it out. I stayed behind with you. Supplies in hand and everyone back at Matt’s, you and I stood staring at the open-hooded engine. We tried everything we could think of and were still stuck with no moving vehicle, so your answer to this was to beat up the engine with a wrench. You banged on it quite a few times, and I’m cracking up as we get back into the car. You put the keys in the ignition and I said a sentence that had become something quite common for us: “Wait, Hard, let’s pray about it first.” So, we did, “Sweet little Jesus, please use your God Magic to heal our car. We love you. Amen” You turned the key, and the engine purred. The look on our faces when we realized that one or both things worked is something I’ll never forget. Sheer childlike Christmas glee. We yelled a hallelujah and a thank you, and that was one of our miracles.

You always knew what I needed. Sure, we’d talk about things we wanted prayer for, were struggling with, were hoping to accomplish, but you knew what I’d need and when. Like that possum hunt, you invited me to your family’s house for Thanksgiving after Brian broke up with me. I was the worst people-person, and dear Harding family, I am so sorry for moping the whole time!! I was in such a painful haze, and Grant’s Christlike answer was for me to share his family on a major holiday. When my family found out, they were in tears, grateful that I wasn’t going to be alone for another one.

My surprise birthday party you, Matt, Michael, and Cole threw -the one when you guys called me up asking why I wasn’t at home, only to find that you were magically in my home waiting for me already- your idea of perfect presents was Moon Sand and a First Grade Arithmetic workbook. I had never been given a more perfect set of presents, perfectly us. The boxer tattoo, or as I called it: Our tattoo. You wanted me there when you got it done, and waited for me to get off work even though you scheduled it before then. I love that dang tattoo, and I loved helping you figure out where to put it, which took almost an hour of dialogue. One night at EBs, Matt bought me a $20 cognac and everyone wanted an experimental sip. When it got to you, you took it and said thanks, shot the whole thing bottoms up, and every person we were with dropped their jaws. Your response, “Mmm, yeah, that’s pretty good.” You were so apologetic when I told you the significance of your actions, and wanted to buy me another one. No way, dude, that was worth the $20 Matt paid. Every single Hate Game movie night, but most especially the one when “Lost Boys” won -a movie you had been planting for months, and was always hated out of the game- and you were so happy that you did laps around the Campbell house, insisting that that was one of the happiest moments of your life because you love that movie and it never ever wins.

To this day, I hold tight to words you told me one of the last nights we were in each other’s presence, before I moved out West years ago. We were alone somewhere, off doing something ridiculous and the natural evolution would be to one-up the other to the point of almost hyperventilation. At one point, it had become so outrageous, crass, and extreme, that you had to stop what we were joking about to tell me, “Gail, when I’m with you, you make me feel like I’m a normal person, that I’m not weird or in a zoo or some shit. Being with you is a good and safe place, and I’m so glad we have it. I mean that, Gail, I’m grateful for you.” All I could do was hug you and tell you that I lucked ya, and that you helped me feel normal, too, in a good way -not a boring, lame, useless way. I remember the time I was reading a book about Mister Rodgers, and we would talk about it and decide we were going to be more intentional and try to not let the other forget how proud we were of them. I never did. You made me so proud. There was never a moment where I wasn’t absolutely and incredibly proud of everything you were and looked to become. You are my hero, Hard.

When I had to move back to Orlando last minute, it was so difficult , but we made it work, and I spent almost all of my weekends back up in the QC anyway to be with you guys. “Make me vomit”, would be our code phrase to hang out. Moving to California two years ago was worse. We kept missing each other every time you and Flagship were out here, even on my birthday, which I remember you taking hard. I recently read through all of our texts on my most recent phone which matched the duration of my life and times in California. Through it all, Hard, you’ve been there. You always answered every time I called, no matter the time of day. You still prank called me. You still sent me videos. You still poured out all you were for me. I know it hurt you that you couldn’t make it to Best Man it at my wedding. I can see it on my phone, right now: our love. Thank you. Thank you for your encouragement. This California culture has been so difficult to adjust to, and you always pushed me to keep trying, that I’d find people like us out here, too. I haven’t yet, really, but I am still trying.

I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t insist on picking me up from the airport five weeks ago, our first time seeing each other in over two years, and this happened. I walked out after the craziest travel blunders to find you in that brand spanking new black Cadillac. There was not a moment of disbelief, but more OF COURSE that’s what you’re driving to pick me up. How classically Hard. What a blessing that we got to get lost on an adventure one last time, got to experience life in a way only we could one last time, got to share matching beers one last time, got to prank strangers one last time, and I even got to see you play one last time -the last time I ever saw your face. We spoke about your plans for Seattle, your struggle with Charlotte, your dreams and your nightmares, your recent relationships, your darkest sins. But we also spoke about the beauty of life and growth and change. You were especially concerned with whether or not my new husband was funny and weird and let me be funny and weird, which of course he is and does, but you were comforted knowing he was one of us. He was worthy of taking over as my caretaker, and you would really have loved to love him, too.

When I heard the worst news of my young life, I wanted to be there with you. I would’ve given anything to switch places with you. But that’s not how life works, and that’s not how death works. I used the term ‘kindred spirit soulmate’ in the beginning and I didn’t use it lightly. That term is sacred. I know it’s true even more so now that my spirit is being shredded apart with you gone. It does feel like I’m not really all here anymore. All I could do was worship. I am nothing. I know nothing. The numbness I feel ebbs and flows, but God’s goodness remains. Thank you for changing my life forever. If anything, I know God is real, because of the beautiful and complex galaxy that Grant Harding was had existed.

Now, here I am, safe in my house you never got to visit and with my remarkable husband you never got to meet, and I carry the overwhelmingly joyful burden of spreading all that you were in Christ Jesus to the people of my new city, and thus you will live on. I luck ya, Hard. Forever and always, I luck ya.