howdy family,

it's about time. still. perhaps i'll always be writing about time. 
 
writing about the mechanical time we wear on our wrists, that we share universally with a bell tower, the 3pm coffee date you've been trying to schedule with a friend you haven't seen since college, the meeting your job depends on — can't be late. 
 
writing about the body time that wakes me up without a chalkboard screech from the phone i'd rather not keep on my nightstand, the time that makes itself known by restlessness and need to move rather than a plan that may feel wrong to follow through with but we force our feelings down to keep committed to our word.
 
mechanical time wants me to think of the past 6 months as half a year, 182.5 days, 4,380 hours, 262,800 minutes, yada yada yada. it is measured by an increment, not an experience. but my dear, loving family, this past 6 months has felt like a lifetime. each moment feels as though it never begins and never ends and an hour is an ant crawling through molasses. 
 
you haven't heard from me for a while. i've written and rewritten and scrapped and pieced newsletters together, trying to give you all an update. these experiences of my past 6 months have felt so important, so explosive to my life that i wanted it to be perfectly written with beauty, grace and dignity. but fuck it. here's my life, read it, do whatever you want with it. i just need to get it out of myself and into the world.
 
on the midnight between july 2nd and 3rd i met nicola. a mutual friend who has witnessed each of our oddities thought we might mesh. we did. i didn't know if it was a date or friends getting together, but by the end of the night, she gave me her heart. 
 
a week before a strange old hippie looking man named "love" ran up to her on the street. "you remind me of someone i used to know. you remind me of someone i used to love." he gave her a wooden heart with the word "love" carved into it.
 
i packed surprises for the night. a spellbound surprise, a shedding surprise, a sharp surprise, and a soapy surprise. at the end she said, "you've given me so much, i have nothing to give you. wait." she reached into her bag and handed me this wooden heart. i pinned it to my wall.
 
tuesday morning, july 3rd, she left and i already needed her back. she was busy until thursday night and it was agony being away. i had never felt so connected to someone.
 
on friday morning, 81 hours after we met, we were drinking coffee at my table. i had to tell her. "i only say this because it means something completely different than it ever has before. i'm in love with you." she said it right back.
 
by the following monday we were traveling to montreal together and i met both her parents. after 16 days i got her handwriting tattooed on my skin. after 7 weeks we got engaged. after 2 months we moved in. it was decided. this is my life partner.
 
if souls exist and if those souls are born and reborn over an over in thousands of bodies to live thousands of lives, it would make sense that some souls encounter each other more than once. i feel as though i have lived many lives with nicola. there's a deep knowing between us that we felt when we first met. that we really "know" each other. not logically, but like a soul knowledge. when you know, you know. and i fucking know.
 
on november 13th i started rehearsals for a new play in a new theatre up in new paltz, new york. on the 18th, on a break during rehearsal, i saw missed calls from my sister and a text to call back asap. 
 
within hours nicola and i were walking through security at the airport. she had been cradling me while her friends drove us to jfk. i stared at the ceiling wondering "why?"
 
i thought i wanted sushi, i hadn't eaten much. we still had an hour before the flight to california. it was a miracle there was a flight available that night. it was delayed two hours or else we wouldn't have made it. i thought i wanted sushi, i was hungry, but i felt more like a drink. 
 
i was drawn to this half moon bar in the middle of the food court. there weren't any seats, but i felt like i needed to be there. within 10 seconds two people got up and we sat down. i ordered a sierra nevada. dad didn't drink much, but i'd seen him with a sierra nevada in his hands a few times.
 
a week before dad had surgery on his back. it was supposed to get rid of this pain he'd been having. the pain persisted, but he's always so quiet about it. when i'd call it was never much worry. i wasn't worried. dad get's through everything. he's like superman. there was dissapointment in his voice that he may have to have a walker for a couple months and the doctor said his diet of doughnuts in the morning and peanut butter on matzo at night might not be cutting it. but it was always light. always with humor. always with a sort of protectiveness to shield those he loved from fear.
 
that sunday, an hour before i called my sister, mom and dad were in bed, discussing getting a second opinion about his back, facetiming with my sister and their grandbabies, just relaxing and spending time together. dad got up to get some breakfast, the doctors told him to walk around several times a day, even though it hurt. an ambulance ride and minutes in the emergency room later, his big heart stopped. sudden, unexpected, years and years too early.
 
the sierra nevada was cold. it was good. it relaxed me. nicola was holding me, i was sobbing into the sticky wooden counter. thankful to have my life partner with me. thankful to have someone who cares so deeply about you that she'll just take a week off from her mechanical time responsibilities to be there. wherever thereis. thankful she gave me her heart that first night and every night since. 
 
at some point a woman sat down next to us, i didn't notice. in a lull of tears she interrupted us. "i don't know what you're going through right now, and i'm sorry to bother you, but someone gave me this today and i think you need it more than i do." 
 
she placed a wooden heart on the counter in front of me. "love" carved into it in familiar handwriting. "this strange hippie looking man gave it to me today."
 
nicola and i were speechless. this symbol of our love, has reappeared in our lives when we needed it the most. it was one of those moments of pure magic where the world seems so infinitely small and oddly orchestrated in a way where you have to trust that everything happens as it needs to happen. in the tragedy and pain and darkness, it was shimmering.
 
going through my dad's nightstand i found a note he had written me. a list of "tidbits of wisdom." at the bottom of the list it says, "things always work out for the best because there is no other way for them to work out."
 
in the past 6 months i met my soulmate and i lost my father. it's not a trade off, it's not a balancing game, there's no sense to be made of it. it just is. it all just is. so i accept it. comparisons are odious. i don't know if things work out "for the best" but they do work out. they work out in pain, they work out in joy, they work out in a million beautiful ways and the proof is in this very moment. if a moment exists, if now exists, everything before must have worked out. somehow.



until next time, your loving son and brother, 

tepper saffren