The death of a girl who believed in signs

There's a scene in Sleepless in Seattle, when Meg Ryan is trying on her grandmother's wedding dress as she talks to her mom about her fiance. The mom exclaims the way she and the fiance met was clearly a sign. Meg tells her she doesn't believe in signs, and then seconds later, in true romantic comedic irony, as Meg moves her arm and suddenly rips the dress, she turns to her mom in panic and whispers "it's a sign!"

And it was. Because (spoiler alert) she ends up with Tom Hanks, not the dorky loving fiance.

I can relate to Meg's character, as I am often quick to search for the negative signs, instead of the ones pointing to eternal bliss.

I wasn't always like this, once I was a girl who looked at the world around me in wide eyed wonderment, eager for signs that confirmed what I wanted. But that part of me died long ago.

16 years, long ago...

His name was David. He was gorgeous. Tall, handsome. A smile that drew me in. A year younger, which made me hesitate, until I caught sight of his smile again.

I met him on a playful summer's day at Twin Falls, minutes before I jumped off the back waterfall for the first time. I had eyed the jump for a while that day, and knew sooner or later I would take the plunge. He arrived with mutual friends, and as I climbed my way over, and stood at the edge, fear riveting through my body, knees shaking and confidence wavering; he caught my eye and shook his head "no." It was all I needed to push me over the edge. I smirked at him and flew.

When I emerged soaking wet and triumphant, we caught eyes once more and I knew he liked me and I liked him. We hung out for a couple weeks, coincidentally running into each other wherever we would go. Which wasn't so coincidental as his two friends had huge crushes on my sister and friend. While they outwardly pursued their objects of affection, David and I and shyly danced around that line of mutual attraction. All talking lied in the eyes, half smiles, and subtle gestures. It was a tremulous excitement... the silent knowing.

This all occurred the summer following the death of my Grandad. He was a sweet old man, who was gentle and kind. He repaired bikes for the neighborhood kids, loved mint chocolate chip ice cream, and carried butterscotch candies in his pocket. When I was little, he was my best friend. I was always by his side, and it was his hand I always reached to hold. And when we would hold hands, we would make a point to squeeze three times, a secret code meaning "I love you."

When I was 15 he had a small heart attack. He was scheduled for a bypass surgery in order to make things all better. I remember seeing him before he flew out to Oahu for his surgery. I had just finished my second attempt at obtaining my driver's license, this time successful. I visited him in the hospital happy and excited about my newest step toward adulthood. He and my parents all assured me his surgery was no big thing, and so, I casually wished him well probably more focused on me than anything else. Before I left, I held his hand, making sure to squeeze it three times.

He died during his surgery.

Six months later, I was still missing his presence in this world.

The signs...

On a cloudless starry night, my friends and I, along with David and his friends met at Big Beach. We did what normal teens did. Hung out doing nothing. We started as a group until slowly by slowly people paired off...

And then there were two.

David and I.

Alone.

He suggested we walk down the shore, and I agreed, both excited and nervous. As we walked, I stared at the sky. We didn't talk. Just walked in silence as the tension of our attraction became thicker and thicker. I could feel my heart racing as I bit my lip anxiously. I didn't know what to expect, but knew I was excited and having the time of my life. David grabbed my hand as we continued down the shoreline. His warm palms enveloped mine. The silence continued, as we trudged across the sand going with no destination in mind, just happy to be walking together. And then, he squeezed my hands three times. I came to a halt, turned to him, then turned my head up to the heavens. At that exact moment a star leapt from them and fell across the sky.

I was certain it was a sign.

So certain, I let him kiss me, even though he wasn't my boyfriend.

I went home that night feeling giddy. I knew deep down there was something extremely special in store for David and me, for surely the signs said so.

Surely.

Not.

Two weeks later, on a sneak out camping trip, I found him kissing my friend.

I was dumbfounded more than devastated because I just couldn't understand. And so, I decided that signs meant nothing. They were for fools.

Fast forward to now...

In my relationship with Erik, I battle my commitment phobic self daily. I sometimes surprise myself with how many issues I have, and how hard it is for me to be settled. There are days when I am certain about our destiny and others when I feel the future is what it is: unpredictable and unknown.

And it's funny, but the signs that point to yes seem to scare me more than the signs that point to no.

Our signs...

Most of our "signs" are found in the quietness of our daily life... the small things he does everyday to show me I am loved. But some are more symbolic. The messages from the world around, kind of stuff...

I remember on our second date we went for a hike. (The second date is always a turning point for me because it means "hey I actually like you enough to want to get to know just how much I can like you.") During this hike I saw my first ever mountain Naupaka flower. It's a flower I've kept my eye out for since the time I first heard it's legend as a child (http://christy-writes2.blogspot.com/2009/05/unemployment-mondays-ii.html#comments). I had many times over seen the common beach variety, but never before found a mountain plant. To me, the Naupaka flowers are something that symbolize romance and two halves destined to be together. And seeing this particular flower was a significant moment for me.

Perhaps if I was still the girl I was before meeting David, that experience alone would have convinced me that Erik and I are meant to be. It would have saved him from the questioning and doubt I sometimes find myself trapped in; but since that part of me died off long ago, it remains what it is. An interesting and cool coincidence.

The signs, the knowing, the meant to be's...they haunt me. I sometimes feel so much pressure to know my forever right here and now. I feel society and what not push us to believe in a level of sensing that seems more like luck of the draw. Is it really possible for someone to "just know?"

Maybe...

In my life, there are many people who "just knew," that remain together to this day and beyond. But I also know just as many who claimed that same destined-fate feeling that are no longer together anymore. As well as another handful of couples who's fates, as strong as they may seem, still remain unknown. This need to know drives me to points of insanity at times.

Erik and I. We don't know. Even when we think we do. We don't. No one does. Except those who do. But then again, who's to really say?

And so, as I continue to find my footing in the world of relationships, I must remind myself that each day is a new day filled with whatever signs I choose to seek out, and if I focus too much on predicting the future, I might miss out what I know right now.

That being said... this is not in anyway to discount those who "just know"- good for you. Really. This is perhaps, just to nullify my own feelings of inadequacy for not always knowing.

Good luck to all of us.