Entry #9: Plan B

There was no Plan B.

Annie and I were both successful at what we did professionally, working independently most of the time.

By this point we were spending less and less time at our respective homes and traveling together practically every week both for work and to spend as many hours as possible together. We both knew that this model was not sustainable and we would have to make some choices.

Walking together through the various cities was one of those special things we enjoyed in the evenings. Yet underneath it all Annie was always apprehensive. She did not feel safe walking streets at night no matter how crowded and safe it might appear. As time went on, her sense of the lack of safety caused me to become more aware of our surroundings and as I began to worry for her myself, the enjoyment started to wane.

Deciding what to do next worked out quite naturally. We looked at all the cities that we visit regularly and put them into columns to decide where the safest and most positive vibe presented itself. Deciding to give up everything for each other was no easy path but we committed to it. We had talked multiple times about starting our own consulting business. We also discussed what would happen if we sold and gave up everything we had to move in a single purpose together for the future. It would be both difficult and painful, but we loved each other too much to not take the chance.

We decided on Montreal. We both love the old centre city with all the shops, restaurants, and bakeries. The fact that French was spoken almost everywhere in the old city made it the most romantic place outside of France itself. We both had contacts there and they assured us we could find an affordable flat in the most desirable area. Montreal was and still is the most accepting city I have been in and Annie felt safe there. Another positive is that we could actually get married there and live a normal life together. The U.S. did not allow our marriage at that time and the environment for us would not be welcoming.

Our business could be run from anywhere, and investing in and opening a business in Canada gave us favorable status for immigration. We put in motion a lot of the pieces to make it all happen and started the immigration paperwork that was going to take some time. We both started the process of notifying our employers of possible departure schedules and both were more than willing to work with us.

The plan was to make the move when Annie returned from her surgery in Thailand. She was having wedding bands made there at the same time by an artist she had researched. We would move to Montreal, get married, love and live with each other the rest of our lives. That was the whole plan. That was the only plan. There was no Plan B.

Annie went to Thailand and never returned. The only regret I have in life is not making that trip with her.

Entry #8: Ellen

I met Annie and Ellen the same evening when they came up to me after a show. They were so different from one another that I didn’t understand how they came to be together. Eventually over the next few days most of the story came out from Annie and I almost couldn’t believe it. It turns out that they were born about 6 months apart to two next-door neighbor families in Utah. Annie’s mother is Thai/Vienamese and her father is black American. Ellen’s parents were both caucasian American.

Annie and Ellen were both tall and statuesque. Annie was 5’9”, model thin and always wore extremely high heels. Many nights she towered over me and I loved it. She was a clothes fanatic, always shopping for shoes and clothes and she sure could rock the tiniest of black dresses. She turned heads when she walked into a room and I would think…yeah…she is with me and all mine. Ellen was the opposite. She was a bit taller, I am guessing 5’10 or 11” as she was as tall as I am in the workout shoes she always wore, dressed conservatively for her government job and when she wasn’t working you always saw her in jeans and a sweatshirt. Just as beautiful as Annie, but she always downplayed how she looked and dressed.

Growing up together as best friends, it seemed to me that they could have been fraternal twins. Their sense of humor was quite the opposite. Annie would laugh at anything at any time, yet she couldn’t tell a joke without ruining the punch line. Ellen had the most sarcastic sense of humor I have ever heard. She could cut you down to size with a joke while she smiled at you the whole time. You never knew what was coming at you at any time from Ellen.

When Annie revealed to me that she was trans and we started to work through what that meant for us, she also revealed that Ellen was also trans. I am not a betting man, but I have no idea what the odds are of that being the case of two women who grew up next door to each other. Their stories are heartbreaking. They knew who they were at a very early stage in life and neither of them had the support of their families. Annie was thrown out of the house when she was thirteen. She stayed at Ellen’s house for a few days and things got progressively worse and they both ran away. Somehow they finished high school, went to college and had successful careers. They were always together whenever they met up in different cities.

Annie had never had a real date, and it was a struggle at first for her to wrap her head around a relationship, especially with me being a male. Ellen was more grounded in that she had a girl friend/partner that she lived with in Denver named Lisa. I only met Lisa twice and it was under terrible circumstances. Ellen was one of the sweetest people I ever met. She accepted Annie and my relationship and welcomed me with open arms. Although I only got to hang out with her a dozen or so times, she treated me as if I was a long lost brother.

When Annie died, my whole world crashed and burned. I didn’t know it at the time but so did Ellen’s. A friend of mine had a place on the beach in Baja and said I could use it so off I went. I don’t remember anything at all about that time. Apparently I was there for about three weeks, but it was in a total alcoholic fog. At some point a neighbor complained to my friend about the guy sitting on the beach every day and drinking. Eventually he came and brought me back. Once I got back and working, Ellen and I met one night on the road, had dinner and hung out together at my hotel that night. She was in pretty bad shape over losing Annie as well. I could tell that the joy was gone in her eyes. I worried about her.

One story I told her was about a movie I had recently seen. I was on the road and a friend wanted to go to a movie and thought it would help take my mind off of everything. She recommended a movie called Blood Diamonds or something like that. Big mistake. During the plot the wife, one of the main characters who was a journalist was out in the country in Africa investigating and she was murdered by local gangs. It took the husband quite a while to figure out what happened and where and when he finally found out he travelled to that exact spot and just sat on the ground. Waiting for the gangs to come and take his life so he could be with his wife. In that very moment I knew what I needed to do to be reunited with Annie. I was going to Thailand. I got up and walked out of the movie with my friend frantically grabbing at my clothes to stop me. She got me back to her place and she and her husband took turns all night watching me to make sure I didn’t act on my impulses. Turns out I was a coward and couldn’t have acted on it anyway. End of story.

By the end of the night, all the stories and way too much alcohol and tears it was too late and not possible to get her back to her hotel. I offered for her to stay, she could have the bed and I would take the couch. She insisted on having it the other way around. She said she had an early meeting the next day so she would probably be gone before I got up.

When I finally woke up, she indeed was gone. She had left me the sweetest note however. She explained that she has insomnia since Annie died and spends a good part of her nights walking back and forth. She said she stopped at the bedroom door several times and looked in to see if I was sleeping. She said what she wanted more than anything was to slip under the covers and see what it felt like to snuggle with the man that Annie loved but she was terrified that I would freak out.

That was the last time I saw Ellen. She was so devastated over losing Annie that she committed suicide three weeks later.

Entry #7: It’s 3am

Every morning at 3am we have this ritual that we have perfected hundreds of times.

I embrace your sleeping body, positioning my head on your neck so I can inhale the smell of you sleeping.

Once I peel back the blankets and start to explore you from head to toe, I watch as your heart beats faster, your breathing changes and you give off more body heat.

Patiently waiting.

Waiting for the moment that always comes when you open your eyes, smile at me and we start our dance.

Every night we are together we dance at 3am.

But now it’s a different dance.

It is my eyes that now open only to find the bed empty and cold.

It is just a dream.

I live the dream every night because that is all I have left.

The dreams and the memories of what once was our nightly dance.

At 3am.

Entry #6: A Different Time

It was a different time in America when I met Annie. While we have come a long way in becoming a more accepting society, there is a long way to go. Today’s internet is so robust you would have a hard time not finding information on just about anything you wish to. Back then when we met, not so much.

On our third night (date) when she revealed that she was trans, I was so shocked that I was at a loss for words momentarily. I could not comprehend what that meant and asked her to explain. She said that while she lives her life as a woman and has since she was thirteen, she was born a boy. I said, that while I don’t know what that means for us, I don’t think it really matters. She responded that well…it will.

Annie was almost forty years old and had never had a relationship with a man and had no more than a handful of dates. She grew up in such fear for her safety and position in society that she closed herself off to everyone. Yet, on the first night we met, we both understood that we had stumbled into something that couldn’t be denied.

We met again the following week at a nice restaurant and the tension in the air was obvious. The few days apart had only solidified what we were feeling for each other. Our first kiss later that night was like a fire that consumed everything in the room. At one point I wondered if I would ever be able to breathe again. All of her fear and apprehension came to bear on the single moment she was so afraid of, but was desperate to experience. While we both wanted that final confirmation of what we felt for each other, all I could think of was that what I really wanted was to give her the love she lacked her whole life. I can’t recall everything I said, but remember mumbling something along the lines of “its only plumbing.” That night’s experience with Annie is something that I will never forget.

It just became better and better and more intense every time we were together until it ended.

There is no path forward to reimagine my experiences and passion for her with someone new. Deep down inside, I know that is my truth. She will always be the one and no one can take her place.

Entry #5: Afraid of The Dark

Annie was afraid of the dark. When it was finally time to say goodnight, she would ask that I leave the television on. No sound, just the video. It was the flickering light that would allow her to go to sleep. Total darkness was a scary place for her.

We had a connection where we could lay there for long periods of time and just watch each other. Just soak up the essence of each other. No speaking required. It seemed like watching each other silently was so powerful that speaking sometimes became harder.

The light of the television being on gave me more opportunities. I loved to watch her anytime. But when she slept, watching her just overwhelmed my thoughts. She was easily the most beautiful woman I had ever met in person. I don’t sleep much and many nights after she fell asleep I would lay my head down on her chest and listen to her heart beating and feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. Just being in her presence and sharing intimacy with her was the most amazing experience.

Many nights with tears in my eyes while she slept I would ask myself. Why me? Why would someone so beautiful and vulnerable choose me? Ten years older than her and just an average guy. Why would she choose me as the person to bare her soul to, to choose to love, to share her body with?

The answer to that question and a hundred others never came. They never came, because I never asked her. In some way I may have been unsure of the answer that might come, but the truth of the matter is that I thought we had forever to ask those types of questions of each other. It turned out we had no time at all before she was gone.

Entry #4: In the Dark

So here I sit here in darkness on the cold concrete wall

Watching the surf as it tumbles and falls

The waves roar in anger while hiding the darkness below

My mind is consumed in anger and darkness and at times it’s all I know

I know that you rest forever beyond the sea

But is it possible you are waiting for me

When you left, the darkness snuffed out your light

In a mind full of darkness can there again be light

I would come to you to embrace what is now done

But I cannot bear the pain of seeing your name on a stone

There is comfort and warmth in my darkness

My mind embraces darkness in order to see your light

I know that you rest forever beyond the sea

But is it possible you are waiting for me

I think of you very day

Dream of you every night

Remember your scent

Remember your taste

Remember your smile

Remember your joy

The memories are all that’s left

I want to leave the darkness where your light is bright

But fear that once the darkness is gone I’ll never again find your light

The dark place is safe and the dark place is bright

But is an escape worth the fight

Shattered and broken, shattered and broken

The ultimate heartbreak of a grief unspoken

At one point my journey will end

And then I will find you again

I know that you rest forever beyond the sea

But is it possible you are waiting for me

Entry #3: When The Music Stops

Annie loved the band. She would come to every rehearsal and show she could make it to. The music brought her so much joy it was infectious to watch her. I don’t think I have ever met anyone who could show so much laughter and emotion over just being in the moment of a live performance. Many times she would be right up front with the booming sound cabinets and this crazy grin on her face. She must have been a hippy in a previous life.

Never having really been interested in music before, she embraced it and went out and purchased an iPod so she could put music on it for later listening. I had no idea what she was listening to, as honestly, the subject never came up. I look back now and think, why didn’t I ever ask about that? It will remain as one of many unanswered questions that I wish I had asked when I could.

Annie was thousands of miles away from me when her heart gave out. I didn’t know then and have thought every day since why I didn’t make the trip with her. I could have put things on hold, made arrangements for the things that needed to be taken care of. I knew she wanted to do this on her own as she had worked towards this goal her whole life. Yet, my thoughts on that week still demonize me.

Annie’s mother traveled to her to take care of the arrangements and although her English was not the greatest, she made the effort to keep me updated on what she learned. She was Thai/Vietnamese and had met her Black American husband when he was stationed overseas. Eventually he was brought back the states and Annie was born here. It was so ironic that she had traveled back to her mother’s country at the end and she was barely 40 years old.

It was by pure happenstance that I happened to be at home a few weeks later when a package arrived. I saw all the postage on it and it took a minute or two to realize it came from overseas. Annie’s mother had sent me a few of her things that she thought I would like to have. One of those things was her iPod. I was for sure not in the mood to look at all of this so I just put the box away.

A month went by and I finally started to go through the box. The iPod was dead so I borrowed a cable from a friend so I could charge it up. What I found changed me forever. There was only one song on the whole damn thing. The song we played that she found total enjoyment in. I had no idea what to think.

A week later we had a show. Load in all the stuff, wait and wait and wait for a sound check. Things didn’t seem right at the sound check but I could not put my finger on what was bothering me. When we tore into the first song opening the show, I knew I was done. I just mailed it in the rest of the night. That song was the only song on her iPod, I could never play that song again, never play any of those songs again. I walked away from performing music that night. It’s been ten years and try as I might, I still cannot get back the point of performing. Every time I have tried I only see that iPod. That iPod stopped the music.

Entry #2: Annie

Annie (not her real name) and I met quite by accident. At the time I was traveling the country doing phone sales by day and music at night. Turned out that Annie travelled for business and we happened to end up in the same city and the same club one night.

My position was second drums. In this band that meant I worked with the bass player to hold down the rhythm section and the other drummer played over me with all the fancy stuff. Over the years the band grew into a rather large group, with two drummers, two keyboardists, three guitarists and four horns. We were a cover/tribute band and there never seemed to be a lack of work.

Everyone hangs out after the shows and most of the time people come up to talk and old friends come out of the woodwork. As for me, I am an introvert and never enjoy that part of the evening. I like to do my thing and then kick back.

Minding my own business at the bar having a solo drink, up comes Annie and introduces herself and her friend Ellen (also not her real name). They caught the show purely by accident and started peppering me with questions about the music. They never heard of the band nor any of the music we played and wanted to know all about it. We talked for quite a long time before Ellen called it a night and left. Annie and I remained until the bar closed and we got kicked out.

Since she was going to be in town the rest of the week and we had a couple of rehearsals as well, I invited her to come along and watch. Throughout the rehearsal, I just could not keep my eyes off of her. She was so into the music that she would dance and twirl around without a care as to who saw her. I was seeing into the most unusual, innocent person I had ever met. Little did I know how far it would take us.

Turns out Annie and Ellen were practically sisters who grew up next door to each other and had been on their own since they were teenagers. That is for another story. Annie was an executive with an insurance company and Ellen worked for the government. Ellen refused to tell me what she did there but I am sure I was better off not knowing. While she was friendly, she had a bizarre way of staring at you when you spoke. It was as if she was reading your mind or something more sinister. It was very unnerving.

Annie on the other hand, commanded a large department at her company and was in a powerful position. It was such a polar opposite to her personal self when not at work. Many times she was indecisive, showing a wonder at the things that went on around her as if she had never experienced any of it. She reminded me of a ten or eleven year old always exploring from a standpoint of childish innocence when in fact they were both grown women of about forty.

By day three she started to reveal the personal parts of her life to me and it became apparent we had a connection that neither of us had had before. The more intimate details of her history she revealed, the more confused and apprehensive I became. I had never met anyone like her before and I wasn’t sure what to do with all the information she was giving me. To this day, I still do not understand how it came to be that we met, much less grew that bond, as we came from such different places and only met by circumstance. By the end of the week, it became obvious there was something serious going on between us as we began to coordinate all of our travels in order to spend as much time with each other as possible since we lived in different cities.

Neither of us anticipated anything like this happening and as we went forward, trying to find out how we fit in with each other, it became more exciting with each passing day. Nothing in my life experience had prepared me to meet someone like her. And every hour away from her became agony.

Entry #1: Hiding In Plain Sight

Hiding In Plain Sight

I have been attempting to start this blog for quite some time without success. Recently, someone I know wrote a post that became the trigger for this introduction. She couldn’t have known, and will never know, because she in fact does not know the actual me. She’s never asked.

Growing up in a middle class household, there wasn’t much lacking. Except for one pretty important thing. There wasn’t much love spread verbally. Actually none at all that I can recall.

One always looks to parental input regarding the fact that they do in fact love their children. I don’t think that my siblings or I ever heard those words. Not only did we not hear the “I love you” sentiment from either of my parents, there was a total lack of verbal approval for any of our accomplishments. Never an “I am proud of you” for this or that.

It took many years to realize that the complete lack of verbal parental love or approval during those formative years, leads one to hide their feelings. And, that can easily allow you to compartmentalize everything into little boxes. Once you start down that slippery slope, it is hard to regain equilibrium. As years pass by the little boxes get bigger, stuffed to overflowing with more hidden thoughts and you gradually squeeze out the light, leaving you with a head full of dark boxes filled with dark thoughts.

On the surface, to your friends and people you meet, all seems well enough. But it isn’t. You put on a happy face, people come in and out of your life, but no one really knows what goes on inside your head. No one really knows your true self. No one asks.

You hide all of that. It is all too easy, as there are so many ways to hide. You hide behind your professional accomplishments, various relationships, sports you take part in. Easiest of all is to hide behind any creativity you might have, your music, your art, and your writings. You present yourself on all of those platforms and people will comment and possibly praise what you present to them, but it is in the end unfulfilling. You take it all in and walk away. The fact is, they do not know you. They only know what they see on the surface.

Most of the time this works out pretty well. But you have no way to know when someone or something will trigger the key to unlock those dark, hidden spaces. When that trigger happens, one of two things may result. One trigger can allow the light to shine in bringing some new insight and clarity. Or, it can bring those dark thoughts to the surface, turning them even darker and have you struggling to slam the box shut harder than ever before. Once you have them, the dark thoughts are always there. They are just boiling below the surface, looking for any excuse to escape and consume you.

It was quite surprising then that some years ago, I actually met someone who managed to trigger both. We met quite unexpectedly, in a situation that might never have been repeated. She brought a blinding light into my average life that was all consuming. She had such a contradictive personality. She was fierce, and strong in her business life, yet vulnerable and with an innocent sense of wonder about the world in her personal life.

For some reason, I became the one she would share her story with and it went both ways. The hiding was put to rest and the more she revealed the more light was unleashed. Over time, the stories, the quiet moments, and shared experiences came with knowing someone on the deepest level by taking the time to ask who they really are and in turn listening to their answers. That type of bond requires no hiding. It is an unbreakable bond that keeps the darkness at bay.

Until it breaks.

It was broken on the night of her ultimate victory that morning over her lifelong biological struggle when her heart simply failed. And that failure became the other trigger.

The trigger was instantaneous, bringing forth a rage and despair that unleashed all of those boiling beneath the surface thoughts from all of those black boxes hidden away for all of those years when there was light. So although ten years have passed, the darkness is now the place of safety. The walls against the light are now stronger than ever. They have to be, because to allow for a trigger to possibly bring in the light again, an open the door for the second trigger exists. And that is a chance that cannot be allowed to repeat.

The hiding is once again the safest place, since no one really knows you. They can’t know you because they won’t ask. They only see what you give them.