Entry #67: Death and Dying

I have been thinking on this quite a bit lately.

While none of us are immortal and we all will face death at some point, I have to wonder what my thought process will be when my time arrives.

It is not just about me however. The reason this comes up at all to me, is because my thoughts always, and I do mean always, turn to Annie.

I did everything I could to protect her from the haters and from harm during our time together. Yet, my mind cannot accept that I could do nothing to save her from the inevitable.

I was not there for her at that moment, and I will never be able to forgive myself for that. I wake in the middle of the night quite often with tears in my eyes, wondering what she felt as she faced that moment. Was she aware of what was happening to her as her body failed her? Did she know that I was not there beside her? If she did know, would she ever forgive me for not being with her in that moment? Was she able to carry my love for her with her?

I feel a certain terror and anxiety over this constantly, and there is no resolution for me, because no matter how much I might cry out to her, she cannot answer.

My time will come.

I have not yet boarded the last train to clarksville just yet, but I am on the off ramp to that one way track. And…the thought of facing my own demise without knowing what she felt haunts me.

That is where my mind goes and I have not been able to find a way to stop it.

Entry #66: Losing My Mind

It has been thirteen years, three months and eight days since Annie passed from this world. She has been with me in spirit every day, and my love for her has never waned. Often, I think of the day when I will join her wherever she is.

Mindful of how others might perceive my grief, I have managed to prevent those thoughts and feelings from seeing the light of day when others could also see them. I have become an expert at hiding myself.

Yet, my mind has managed to turn on me. While I know in my heart, I will never give up on the memory of Annie, I seem to have another woman break into my thoughts more frequently than I could have predicted. My friend I have written about a few times has become an important part of my life and thoughts, even though we do not see each other as often as we have in the past.

It is a platonic friendship, at least at this point. We have never shared a romantic embrace, kiss or anything like that. And though these things have never happened in real life, they occur more frequently to me in my dreams.

For the last two days, I have been bedridden with illness and there is where my mind decided to attack me. I may have been delusional in my illness, but I prefer to think of it as a harbinger of possibilities, even though the universe will not give that to me.

You see, she appeared to me at my bedside yesterday. I felt something take hold of my foot and when I turned, there she was. I watched as she shed her clothing and stood before me as she pulled back the blanket and joined me in bed. The visual of her beautiful, nude, melanin body against me with her braids covering our heads like a curtain, was such a rush that I had a difficult time breathing. She has shared quite a bit of her damaged journey in growing up, and I knew in that instance, I finally had the opportunity to show her how a man could not abuse her, but treat her with physical love.

And then a neighborhood dog barked, my eyes flew open, only to find the bed empty next to me. It was all a dream.

So close. So close to showing her a loving experience.

I must be losing my mind when my dreams are more real than the reality of my life.

Entry #65: Stay or Go

Writing this blog has never been easy. Reconstructing all my memories of Annie and the life we experienced together during the short year we had each other has been heartbreaking and uplifting at the same time. Make sense?

Until this past week, I have shared this blog with only two other people that I know in person. From them, I receive only respect and encouragement to keep writing and express myself in the only way I can, as I am not an eloquent speaker.

This week, I shared it with a third person. Someone whom I have known for 6-8 years in social settings, always seemed like an open minded person. We discuss many topics, and I have been supportive of her struggles during Covid, as that is what a friend does.

Sharing this with her was a terrible mistake. A side of her came out that I never knew existed. Rather than give me understanding and empathy over the words I write, I received hate, bigotry and disrespect. After reading most, if not all ( I could tell by her comments), she decided to die on the white privilege hill of her own making.

To paraphrase, since I never had the thought to record her comments, she could not understand why I would ever love an Asian (American) like Annie. I wasn’t sure if she was taking issue with Annie being Asian or transgender, or both. To top it off, she took issue of my writing about my feelings for my black friend. She wanted to know why I couldn’t simply find a white woman.

Well, she is now gone from my life and I have no regrets about it. How dare she comment on who I loved back then, and who I have feelings for now.

The hate and comments I endured during my time with Annie was common back then, even though I knew nothing of it until Annie and I became a thing. It was a constant worry for us wherever we went…would she be safe…could I keep her safe…constant vigilance as to who was around us at any time or place. It was exhausting to fear violence that could erupt without warning.

I thought that was behind me after all these years, but with what has happened in this country with the murders of black folks, and the terrorizing of transgender POC, I realize that this country is no better off than it was back then. Now, when I go out in public with my friend who is black, will my whiteness bring on trouble for her as well? Must I scrutinize every person that comes close to us when we are in public?

I have no solution to this dilemma, and I absolutely refuse to give up not only my friendship, nor my feelings for her. I will fight the haters wherever I find them. Who I choose to love and be seen with is no one’s business and I will make that crystal clear to anyone who gets in my way.

I waffled back and forth as to whether I would delete this blog. Yet, I find that I cannot let the actions of bigots deter me living the truth of who I love and care for.

If someone has issues with me writing about my relationships and friendships with women of color who may be transgender or cis, then just get over yourself and stay off my lawn.

I do not, nor will I welcome you into my life.

So, if you have read this far, just know that I will keep on writing about the women who have made such an impact on my life. This is not only my truth…it is their’s as well.

Entry #64: Structure

Structure is a vital component of daily life, at least for me.

During this period of Covid, the structure that at one time helped to regulate my days seems to have vanished. As the days turn to weeks, and the weeks have turned to months, it appears that I am adrift most of the time.

My to do lists continue to grow. Those items on the list that have been completed continue to become smaller with each passing day.

Structure for me has been an elusive goal since losing Annie. What was once the backbone of my existence has failed me more and more as time progresses.

While I had managed to remove most people from my life, in order to refuse anyone else from observing my grief and lack of caring, there are a few people who I kept close. But, as Covid recedes and people get to go about their business in a more normative way, those two or three people now have better things to do.

Pushing everyone, save two or three individuals away, may have served me well in the past, but now, in the present, I am more isolated than I suppose I intended. I can recognize that I need to do something about this, yet there is a complete unwillingness to try and meet new people. I hold onto frail hope to be able to visit with them more often, but now that their lives are moving forward, I am confident I will be left behind. Rather than become the pest that they will shun, I retreat daily into the darkness that has given me comfort these past thirteen years.

It is tiring to watch myself from outside my own body as I struggle to remain relevant to those two or three people, when the truth of the matter revolves around my inability to let go of everything that Annie meant to me.

Most days, my mind is like a rudderless boat, adrift in the sea. Never knowing which direction it will take me. I start things I don’t finish, put off starting new things, with the knowledge that they won’t be finished either, and through it all, the few people who could and would listen to my ramblings, busy themselves with their own lives. I see them less and less frequently, which leaves me to revisit the dark times more and more often.

The darkness of my mind is the friend that provided me a structure of reliving my memories and grief, and I can now see that this friend is not done with me yet.

So there is that at least.