Entry #14: Introvert

I have always been an introvert. The truth is that I find most people either uninteresting or down right disappointing. Idle conversation just does not hold my interest and I would prefer to listen most of the time and if I have something of value to contribute I will.

So many conversations are initiated by people who just like to hear themselves speak. I am just not one of those people. Many of those same people show no interest in what is happening in the lives of others they are friends with. They are happy to pass the time with meaningless conversation, but seldom if ever ask the questions of another that would show that they are truly interested.

Over the years, my habit of listening more than speaking, and asking the hard questions of my friends gave me perspective into their lives. I can count on one hand the number of times those types of questions were posed to me. Disappointing, right?

Annie turned that model upside down. She immediately started out asking questions, and in return revealing her personal self. She was and still is the only person that managed to break through to me on a personal level. She was the only one who proved she did care by making the effort. Even today, I can start out a conversation with someone new, ask some questions, reveal some facts and still not get a question in return. I have to believe that most people just do not care how others feel or what is going on in their lives.

We had the deepest, heartfelt conversations between us as we described all our fears and hopes to each other. We both loved rain storms. When a storm was approaching we would head to the nearest beach to feel the fury of the storm and the pounding of the waves. The dark energy seemed to revitalize us.

Storms are a lot different for me now that she has passed. I still go to the ocean if I am near, whenever a storm occurs but no longer get the same result. It is always the same for me. I wait till the rain begins to pound on the sand and walk to the waters edge and sit and wait. The spot is always chosen where others are out enjoying the storm. I always write Annies name in the sand in front of me and wait. I wait for the rising waters to wash away her name as the tears stream down my face. No one else can see the tears because of the rain pounding on everything.

It would be so easy to just get up and walk out into the water and never be seen again. But then what? There is no guarantee I would see her again. Nor is there a guarantee that the memories I have of her would still be memories, or would there be nothing but darkness? The risk of losing those memories, which are the only thing that keeps me going every day is too much to consider.

So, when the tears finally subside, I get up and leave. There will be another storm and then I will be back to write her name in the sand once more.

Entry #13: The First Time

I remember the first time. After all these years, that moment is burned into my memory forever.

We were in Montreal for a show and it was just another rehearsal like so many others. We played the songs exactly the way we intended them to sound and then sat to listen to the playback.

Annie snuggled up next to me with her head on my shoulder as the music began playing. All of a sudden, when the voice track began, she was singing the lyrics in my ear to the music, soft as a whisper so no one else could hear.

In French! In stunned silence, I just sat there squeezing her hand, hoping the song would never end and I would breathe again before I passed out. As the song went on I could feel her shudder as she sang. When the song ended, I turned to face her, completely confused, only to find her in tears.

Annie said she had not spoken French in years, and she loved me so much she just became overwhelmed in the moment and it seemed to be the only way she could express herself. I had no idea she could speak any other language but English. She said yes, she also spoke Vietnamese and a bit of Tagalog.

After that evening, she spoke to me in French a lot. I mean every day. I do not understand 95% of what she said and she would translate in English immediately, but I had to hear her speak to me in French.

The hours, spent gazing into her eyes as she lovingly whispered to me in French just melted me. I will never hear her voice again, but those are memories I will take with me forever.

Entry #12: Shopping

Annie loved to shop. It didn’t matter what city we were in, she always brought back her latest purchases to the hotel to show off. I don’t know how she found the time with her regular day job and the fact that we always had plans of some sort for the evening. She was obsessed with always having the latest fashion and she would do her research to find the appropriate event or in-place for us to go so she could dress to kill.

I am not much in the shopping world, but have to admit that her constant desire to be in dress up mode did start to affect how I dressed as well. I couldn’t let her be seen with a bum when going out on the town. So I shopped as well.

Shopping with Annie had its perils of course. We enjoyed shopping at night, so we could walk the streets together in the shopping neighborhoods. Stores were always lit up and it was great people watching as well. I always walked on the street side with Annie because that is what a gentleman does. We could be innocently walking down the street having a conversation and suddenly I would find myself alone talking to myself. Sometimes it would take me several minutes to back track and find out which store Annie had dove into. Anything sparkly or sexy displayed in the window would draw her in.

In the beginning, when I would pick out clothing for her she would politely decline my choice saying it was a bit too conservative for her. After a few times like that, I decided to change tactics. I would choose some of the most scandalous outfits I could find. She loved it. Who knew? From that point on she insisted I shop with her, hang out by the dressing rooms and give my opinions. Nothing was too sexy or daring for her to wear.

One night when we were in Montreal she decided she wanted to go shopping for some personal lingerie. I said sure, I can just hang out at a coffee shop as they were on every corner in the old city. She said no, she had a particular shop she always went to for those items and I was to come with her. When we arrived I noticed the windows were all covered for privacy. I told her I didn’t think it was such a good idea for me to accompany her inside, as the clientele might not like a male inside while the ladies were trying on all sorts of things. She just laughed at me and said I was being provincial and she grabbed my hand and in we went.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t embarrassed. There I sat on a comfortable chair while she tried on numerous things and would strut over to me to get my opinion. The fact that the sales women and other women trying on items didn’t even bat an eye that there was a male sitting right there in the open while they took items on and off while I desperately tried to focus only on Annie was distressing to say the least. She finally decided on her purchases and I said, great, we need to get out of here. She laughed at me so hard I had to join her. She was totally enjoying my discomfort in the whole situation and promised to give me a private show when we got back to the hotel. As we walked away, she whispered into my ear…think how much more you will enjoy it the next time. I just shook my head thinking how in the world did I get so lucky to have this sexy, sometimes fearful, sometimes fearless, sometimes powerful woman to look forward to being with the rest of my life.

Entry #11: Gerald

A long time friend recently passed away. He had a very long and productive life.

Gerald and I met when I was in my late teens. He was in his early thirties at that time and he was a priest unlike any other. My friends and I would hang out in the local pool hall and we always saw Gerald there as well. One day we happened to get chosen for a scratch game with him and that is how we met.

I really did not know how to take him at first. He played pool like a shark, drank as much or more than we did and could tell the dirtiest jokes you ever heard. At the same time however, he was the sweetest and most supporting person you could hope to meet. He always listened to our troubles and dispensed his advise and thoughts to us no matter the subject.

We remained friends over the years and while he eventually moved to a position on the east coast, there was never a doubt about keeping in touch. It was one of those friendships that you just can’t explain. We were so different and so similar in opposite ways. Eventually he resigned his position and married a wonderful woman who was a stabilizing force in his life. He never thought much about his place in the world. He just went about his business helping less fortunate people in any way he could.

It came to pass one day after I met Annie that I really needed to have someone to talk to. Someone who could listen to my thoughts of love for her and fears about how our life together would play out in a country where she was not welcome. I called up Gerald and we spoke for quite some time. In the end his advice was to stop worrying about what anyone else thought or said about our relationship. It was none of their business and if they wanted to make it their business, they were no friends of mine. He suggested we simply love each other and find a place where we felt comfortable and safe and choose that for our home. Yes, he agreed Canada was a much better place. He held a lot of disdain for the U.S. claim of morality while the people acted like prudes whenever the topic of sexuality or gender came up. I do believe his thought process was ahead of the times we lived in, and was shocking that it came from a priest.

I wish Annie could have met him, as I am sure she would have enjoyed his friendship as well. He passed peacefully in his sleep, which is the preferred way to go in my opinion. Ours was a friendship based on mutual respect and a willingness for each of us to listen to what the other had to say. There is very little of that in the world anymore and those types of friendships are rare indeed. I know this to be a fact because after losing Annie, Ellen and now Gerald there is no one left that I can say gives me the same respect that I am willing to give in return.

While I am sad to see him go, I know that Gerald made a huge difference in many people’s lives while he was here. I am grateful to have enjoyed a lifetime of friendship with him and who knows, perhaps we will meet again in another time and another place.

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