and I would have stayed up with you all night...

    A dear friend - one of those friends who will never truly understand how dear he is, because he is incapable of perceiving his own worth in such terms—has set me off in search of understanding what it means 'to save a life.' Specifically, he's made it clear that I have indeed saved his, and he (not "in turn") wants to save mine. I smile ruefully as I write this; does it not require that my life will require 'saving' at some point? Well, in all likelihood, it will. It has, before. And it's been saved. In big ways, and in uncountably more small ways, the infinitely more vital small ways.
    What does it mean to save a life? To love somebody, enough, to? I think it means, to mean to be there. To be there, with intent. This is not accidental presence, just finding oneself in the same elevator. It is to seek the company of one who needs one's company, whether they can (or will) seek it, or not.
    It means, in visual terms, stuff like this, things I've found as I've packed. Proof that this life's been saved...
    Postcards from friends in far-away places (thinking of friends when we can't be together)
    silly gifts (so much bacon! and voodoo! and Gumby is doing something illegal with Pokey...)
    ...including silly gifts that involve intrigue
    It takes an extremely special man, one who is firm in his masculinity and his role in life and friendship, to create a bat-rack that he knows (or even has an inkling) will be used, as a secondary purpose, for displaying jewelry
    grace
    sweet notes, hidden in plain sight
    sweet notes, packed in boxes, displayed from the moment they arrived
    The Best. Bookmark. EVERRRRRRR. (found at work, and enjoyed with my colleagues)
    It's Burqa Furor. What more can be said?
    A gift from a man I never dated, but wanted to. I think it was a sly compliment.
    Some quotes from the queen of malapropisms

    George - sigh
    one of my closest colleagues is a great deal more, um, positive than I am. You've perhaps heard of Arthur?
    My world-traveler friend has had some terrifically bad dating luck. Thankfully, she's been kind enough to share it with me, in the form of cautionary tales.
    Even my colleague with whom I most frequently have reason to disagree can make me smile, as with this mock-up
    Poor H. She didn't quite get the gist of this, at first, and thought it implied a compliment to vegetarians. That was a rough day.
    World-Traveler Girl was previously in my employ, and as such, was required to leave messages for me. They were often left in the form of illustrated notes - or just illustrations.

    Did I make my point? It's not the stuff, so much. It's the message that matters. And wanting to convey it. It's asking the question and waiting (or pushing) for the answer. It's checking in, periodically, to see if the silence is just the usual weather, or if there's been a climactic change that requires adjustment. It's the hugs that take your breath away, not because they squeeze the air out of your lungs but because of what they mean, what you mean. That, maybe, is how to save a life.

[title quotation from "How to Save a Life" by The Fray]