Saudade
by Nicole Cushman
Saudade is a Portuguese word with no equivalent in the English language. It refers to a deep state of nostalgic or melancholic longing for an absent something or someone, alongside the knowledge that the object of longing might never return. Saudade combines happy and sad feelings by invoking the recollection of experiences, places, or events that once brought pleasure or joy, which now trigger a sense of emptiness, like someone or something that should be there in a particular moment is missing.
The concept of saudade is at once beautiful and tragic. I imagine it’s also elusive for those who haven’t experienced it. Having lived in a near constant state of saudade for a year now, I’ve tried to articulate what it actually feels like, in my experience.
Moving through the past year without Luke has felt like being adrift at sea. I am missing my anchor and regularly feel unmoored or destabilized without the solid foundation we built together to buoy us. Most of the time, it simply feels like longing. I just fucking miss him.
I could talk for hours about what I miss about Luke. Some of the things I think about regularly or which have occurred to me recently include:
Having a thought partner and teammate for making major life decisions
Consistently hearing the words “I’m proud of you” and “I’m so lucky to have you”
Having someone to text every time my plane lands to let him know I made it safely
How he remembered to bring a card to every birthday party
Toasting our coffee cups in the morning and whatever we were consuming at night--be it seltzer, bourbon or bowls of ice cream
Checking the back of his head every time he shaved it to make sure he didn’t miss a spot and assessing the evenness of his sideburns
Our secret high five, used only during Stanford football games
How he flossed his teeth for 20 minutes while I got ready for bed in the other room, just so he could watch a TV show I refused to watch with him
How he snapped photos on the subway of every small dog he could to send to me
Coming home to a pile of torn out magazine pages stacked in my spot on the couch and knowing instantly they were New Yorker cartoons he thought I’d like
Falling asleep next to him at night and waking up with him by my side in the morning
Today is a national day of mourning on which people across the country (and, indeed, the world) honor the thousands who died 18 years ago in the city I now call home. Perhaps it’s fitting that I add my grief to this collective day of remembrance. While I detest most of the cliches people utter in the wake of tragedy, one that rings true for me is “grief is the price we pay for love.” I am forever changed by having loved Luke and by losing him. I have become acquainted with the darkest corners of my psyche; I have swum in a sea of emotions previously uncharted. I have also witnessed and received the brightest, most blinding love from our community. I am keenly aware of this gift: I know that deep, passionate, honest, supportive, forever love is possible because I had it.
Much like this city after 9/11, I have felt myself rising from the ashes recently. I have felt more like myself in the past month than I have all year. I have much more to say about that, but I’ll save it for another day. For now, I’ll leave you with with a song. Cesária Évora was one of the first artists Luke introduced me to. She was a beloved singer-songwriter from Cape Verde. Sodade is the Cape Verdean word for saudade.