I am humbled by the response to my last post. I also want to assure everyone that I am good (though that word doesn't even come close to the feelings I am having today) and haven't felt this good in a long time. Writing this made me release it out into the wild and no longer hold on to it, letting it fester and eat me alive. It's a piece of freedom to me.
I am afraid to post more for fear that all will think I am terribly sad. I am sad I don't get to have Alistair anymore. However, if I write how this all went, I will be a much more peaceful person. I love sharing it with all of you because I have been INCREDIBLY blessed to have all of you in my life helping me through this.
I think you deserve to know it all. Some of you have heard bits and pieces of this and I'm not really sure how to present it in a coherent manner. I don't want to post only the sad parts of my life over the last year and four months, I want to share the great things too. The memories, the revelations, the difficulties. It's a bit of my therapy. The world is opening up to me in a way I never imagined or thought was possible and sharing each of these things opens it a bit wider.
Alistair and I always loved adventures. Even little adventures and so this experience is just another adventure. Some of it is wonderful, some of it is completely mundane, some of it is very sad and scary, and some of it is things I am not proud of. But all of it is me, all of it is true, and all of it is freedom. Freedom to be sad, freedom to be happy, freedom to dream, freedom to remember, and freedom to be open to the next adventures.
I love your support, feedback, comments, and I want you to continue to do so. But just to repeat and be clear - this is my therapy and it is my gift to you so you all have the whole story and not just the pieces I felt okay to share with individuals. Please don't be sad, please don't be burdened, please just share in my journey to the freedom of the next adventure.
gosh - that was a bit preachy. okay - done with preachy. Love you all, thank you all and I hope in any small way, it touches you to hold what you love close, always say I love you and often, and to know it's okay to let things go.
hasta la pasta - my next post? my blind date with genius.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
When a bus ride changes your life
I was married for almost 6 years. Then I wasn't anymore. An unwilling widow. One voice mail, one bus ride, one phrase, "he can't honey, he can't" and my life changed.
In case you don't know how I met Alistair, it was on a blind date. I knew that night I wanted to marry him and spend the rest of my life with this man. I married him exactly one year to the day that I met him - April Fool's Day. It was just right. In the same way I knew I wanted to marry him, I knew he wasn't with me anymore.
September 7, 2007 I was riding the 15 down to the car dealership. I was really excited because I was going to be signing the papers for the new silver volkswagen jetta and starting on my way to Montana to drop it off for my husband, Alistair, where he was finishing his PhD. He was so excited. It was finally a car he had picked out and it was the right color, the right car, the right everything. He always felt he never got the right anything. So it was a big deal in our life.
The bus was packed with standing room only and I had been lucky to get a seat near the back of the bus. My phone vibrated, screaming to tell me I had missed a voice mail. I hate voice mail, so ordinarily, I wouldn't have checked it, but I had been trying to call Alistair all day. I wanted to tell him I was on my way to get the car since the last thing I told him the previous day was that I would call him when I was on my way. I figured I had missed his call while I was in the elevator at work (it happens with really bad reception and thick earthquake proof walls). So although HE hated LEAVING voice mails, I had left him several that day and I thought perhaps he had at last graced me with his voice.
It wasn't unusual to not hear from him on a Friday. He had school: teaching, seminar, classes, pizza with "the group". So, when the voice mail turned out to be from his professor, panic set in, though I didn't really need to know much more.
When I heard Mike's voice, Alistair's professor, asking me if Alistair was home with me, I already knew my life had changed. My whole body had this horrible aware sensation. Every nerve ending felt alive, but only in a survival way like having been suddenly awakened out of horrific nightmare when you aren't really sure if the dream was real or not. I knew why I felt that way, but I was avoiding the reality, even in those first few moments. There is always a chance that I could be wrong. Even though I knew my husband, even though I knew how he lived, and even though I knew how he played with his life, still, I wanted to believe there was a chance. Never in my life did I want to be wrong more than in this moment.
A poor young man on the bus must have realized my distress since he bent over and stopped me from rocking in my seat and asked so very gently, "can I help you?". All I wanted was to get off the bus. I think I kept repeating that, "i just need to get off this bus, i just need to get off this bus." It was hard to breath and hard to see and I was very warm. There isn't much to remember from then until the phrase, though I know hours went by.
I do know I called two people. Ciara and then Derek. First Ciara - and in fact, I don't remember if I called her and then Gus or vice versa, but I talked to one of them and said something like, "something is very wrong and I need you to pick me up from the dealership." They were in the UDistrict getting groceries. But one of them said, "we'll be there."
Then I called Derek - I told him I knew Alistair was dead. Derek told me that I was over-reacting (and he was right to say that then). I just knew it. I just felt it. Nothing was more clear to me than that during that walk from the bus to the dealership. Bless Derek for his talk with me all the way to the dealership. I don't remember really what we talked about, but only that he was reassuring.
When I got to the dealership, John, the guy who sold us the car, came up to me and said, "ah. . . we had some problems with the paperwork." You see, he was trying to be funny. We had to have the papers fly all around the country to get the proper signatures and stuff. But right away he saw that I was in distress. I said, "I'm having a personal crisis right now and my phone is running out of charge. Can you find me a charger for a razor?" He went right away to find one. I don't remember seeing him until Ciara and Gus got there. They talked to him and then took me home, to their home.
Like I said, I think hours went by. Gus made me dress in some sweats. Ciara made me drink some beer (I think I needed a shot, but beer was good to start).
I hadn't heard from Mike after speaking with him on the phone on the bus. He asked permission to have the door knocked down to see if Alistair was in there. I gave it. I needed to know.
When I called back and Mike's wife Donna answered. I'm not sure how long she was on the phone with me but it felt like forever. Hours after I had spoken to Mike, hours after I had given him permission to have the police knock down the door, hours after I had called Alistair's parents, hours after I had called my best friend to come and pick me up from the dealership, hours after she and her husband kept telling me that I couldn't be certain since no one had seen him - sure there was another answer. Hours after I already knew what no one could tell me yet. Hours after; Donna was giving me a blow by blow (and yes, it felt like a blow by blow) on what was happening. "Ok, Mike's at the door with the police. Mike's in with the officers. They're still in there. Mike's on his way out. He's walking towards me."
"Donna, please can he tell me?"
". . .he can't honey, he can't. . . "
And I was falling. . . .
falling. . .
That tie I had felt on the first night was the same tie that told me he had left me. Something he had promised not to do
ever
yet here I was.
alone.
no more tie.
floating out in the blackness
alone.
In case you don't know how I met Alistair, it was on a blind date. I knew that night I wanted to marry him and spend the rest of my life with this man. I married him exactly one year to the day that I met him - April Fool's Day. It was just right. In the same way I knew I wanted to marry him, I knew he wasn't with me anymore.
September 7, 2007 I was riding the 15 down to the car dealership. I was really excited because I was going to be signing the papers for the new silver volkswagen jetta and starting on my way to Montana to drop it off for my husband, Alistair, where he was finishing his PhD. He was so excited. It was finally a car he had picked out and it was the right color, the right car, the right everything. He always felt he never got the right anything. So it was a big deal in our life.
The bus was packed with standing room only and I had been lucky to get a seat near the back of the bus. My phone vibrated, screaming to tell me I had missed a voice mail. I hate voice mail, so ordinarily, I wouldn't have checked it, but I had been trying to call Alistair all day. I wanted to tell him I was on my way to get the car since the last thing I told him the previous day was that I would call him when I was on my way. I figured I had missed his call while I was in the elevator at work (it happens with really bad reception and thick earthquake proof walls). So although HE hated LEAVING voice mails, I had left him several that day and I thought perhaps he had at last graced me with his voice.
It wasn't unusual to not hear from him on a Friday. He had school: teaching, seminar, classes, pizza with "the group". So, when the voice mail turned out to be from his professor, panic set in, though I didn't really need to know much more.
When I heard Mike's voice, Alistair's professor, asking me if Alistair was home with me, I already knew my life had changed. My whole body had this horrible aware sensation. Every nerve ending felt alive, but only in a survival way like having been suddenly awakened out of horrific nightmare when you aren't really sure if the dream was real or not. I knew why I felt that way, but I was avoiding the reality, even in those first few moments. There is always a chance that I could be wrong. Even though I knew my husband, even though I knew how he lived, and even though I knew how he played with his life, still, I wanted to believe there was a chance. Never in my life did I want to be wrong more than in this moment.
A poor young man on the bus must have realized my distress since he bent over and stopped me from rocking in my seat and asked so very gently, "can I help you?". All I wanted was to get off the bus. I think I kept repeating that, "i just need to get off this bus, i just need to get off this bus." It was hard to breath and hard to see and I was very warm. There isn't much to remember from then until the phrase, though I know hours went by.
I do know I called two people. Ciara and then Derek. First Ciara - and in fact, I don't remember if I called her and then Gus or vice versa, but I talked to one of them and said something like, "something is very wrong and I need you to pick me up from the dealership." They were in the UDistrict getting groceries. But one of them said, "we'll be there."
Then I called Derek - I told him I knew Alistair was dead. Derek told me that I was over-reacting (and he was right to say that then). I just knew it. I just felt it. Nothing was more clear to me than that during that walk from the bus to the dealership. Bless Derek for his talk with me all the way to the dealership. I don't remember really what we talked about, but only that he was reassuring.
When I got to the dealership, John, the guy who sold us the car, came up to me and said, "ah. . . we had some problems with the paperwork." You see, he was trying to be funny. We had to have the papers fly all around the country to get the proper signatures and stuff. But right away he saw that I was in distress. I said, "I'm having a personal crisis right now and my phone is running out of charge. Can you find me a charger for a razor?" He went right away to find one. I don't remember seeing him until Ciara and Gus got there. They talked to him and then took me home, to their home.
Like I said, I think hours went by. Gus made me dress in some sweats. Ciara made me drink some beer (I think I needed a shot, but beer was good to start).
I hadn't heard from Mike after speaking with him on the phone on the bus. He asked permission to have the door knocked down to see if Alistair was in there. I gave it. I needed to know.
When I called back and Mike's wife Donna answered. I'm not sure how long she was on the phone with me but it felt like forever. Hours after I had spoken to Mike, hours after I had given him permission to have the police knock down the door, hours after I had called Alistair's parents, hours after I had called my best friend to come and pick me up from the dealership, hours after she and her husband kept telling me that I couldn't be certain since no one had seen him - sure there was another answer. Hours after I already knew what no one could tell me yet. Hours after; Donna was giving me a blow by blow (and yes, it felt like a blow by blow) on what was happening. "Ok, Mike's at the door with the police. Mike's in with the officers. They're still in there. Mike's on his way out. He's walking towards me."
"Donna, please can he tell me?"
". . .he can't honey, he can't. . . "
And I was falling. . . .
falling. . .
That tie I had felt on the first night was the same tie that told me he had left me. Something he had promised not to do
ever
yet here I was.
alone.
no more tie.
floating out in the blackness
alone.
Three whole different people
So, I was looking at the last three posts I put out there and it seems like three different people. There is no context, no transition, no sense to the flow of time.
But is that really that surprising?
So, here is context to the time of flow. The Mariners win, Less than three weeks later, Alistair died. More than a year passed while I was trying to deal with Alistair dying. I spent most of it doing theater because it was something that kept me REALLY busy and where I felt needed, so the post after the "memorial" post (gawd, that sounds awful, but I can't think of another thing to call it), is the post about all my theater stuff. I have done so much in the last year in trying to heal. It really is three different people.
I suppose, if you know me, and you read my blog, you would probably put those pieces together, but those that don't, probably don't get it. I feel like I need to pick up from the Mariners game to really have anyone understand what I've been through. Though, I'm not sure I actually want to do that for others to understand. I want to do it for me. Every time I write about something, I feel better. And I want everyone to know how much I truly appreciate them for what they've done and how they've been there for me.
I know, I know, it's just another empty promise to keep posting, right? Maybe, but I figure, if I say it out loud, it's either TRUE or I'll have to make it true. I hate disappointing other people, so if some of you could keep me honest, that would be great. Though, you've all done so much for me already, I don't really get to ask anymore. I've dipped into the bank enough times over the last year and a half, I would understand if any of you thought I had over drawn a bit.
Next time, I want to tell you what it's like to have your life change on a bus.
But is that really that surprising?
So, here is context to the time of flow. The Mariners win, Less than three weeks later, Alistair died. More than a year passed while I was trying to deal with Alistair dying. I spent most of it doing theater because it was something that kept me REALLY busy and where I felt needed, so the post after the "memorial" post (gawd, that sounds awful, but I can't think of another thing to call it), is the post about all my theater stuff. I have done so much in the last year in trying to heal. It really is three different people.
I suppose, if you know me, and you read my blog, you would probably put those pieces together, but those that don't, probably don't get it. I feel like I need to pick up from the Mariners game to really have anyone understand what I've been through. Though, I'm not sure I actually want to do that for others to understand. I want to do it for me. Every time I write about something, I feel better. And I want everyone to know how much I truly appreciate them for what they've done and how they've been there for me.
I know, I know, it's just another empty promise to keep posting, right? Maybe, but I figure, if I say it out loud, it's either TRUE or I'll have to make it true. I hate disappointing other people, so if some of you could keep me honest, that would be great. Though, you've all done so much for me already, I don't really get to ask anymore. I've dipped into the bank enough times over the last year and a half, I would understand if any of you thought I had over drawn a bit.
Next time, I want to tell you what it's like to have your life change on a bus.
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