Tag: experience

Entry #89 The Silence

I never appreciated the comfort that silence generates.

The world is a noisy place and always has been. Both my life, and Annie’s were filled with the constant din and noise of living in society. We both had difficult jobs that required constant interaction with others, and a world of noisy travel and endless meetings and the pressure to outperform our peers. Add in my musical career, and the constant mental noise became both unavoidable and unbearable at times.

It wasn’t until we met, that we were able to embrace a certain silence that emanated from our love for each other and the endless quest to just be alone together in peace, in a world full of noise and confusion. Despite our positions, we both bordered on being unsociable among others for reasons. In Annie’s case, being transgender and a person of color, meant she endured constant judgement and never felt safe among people she did not know. I dreaded my interactions with people even though being a touring musician meant I had to deal with crowds of people constantly. The music is what I lived for, never the people. In both of our cases, it seemed such a high price to pay for an unachievable mental calmness.

Once we met however, it took no time at all for us to realize that our peace and quietness came from our just being together. When together, we had the ability to bring forth the silence we both craved for. We spent hours and hours together, in the forest, at the beach, lying in bed together, enjoying the city skyline or the stars above at night without having to say a word. We could cuddle and snuggle and please each other without a word being said.

For us to find each other seemed a miraculous set of events. Everything about Annie brought me peace in our time we spent together. Her incredible intellect…her embrace of my doing everything possible to make her safe when we were out and about…her amazing body and the beauty of her soul. The silence we enjoyed together without having to speak a word, is something so rare, that when it is gone, it cannot be reclaimed.

There is no longer silence in my life. The gift of silence that Annie brought to me ended when she died. Hard as I may try, there is no reclaiming what she brought to me in life. The world is noisier than ever, and I push myself away from as many people as possible. There is no joy in the noise. My joy came from Annie, and the silence we achieved together. 

Entry #88: Hotels

Annie and I always chose particular types of hotels. In the beginning, we would stay at major hotel chains, due to the ease of finding nice clean rooms in well kept properties.

But one night that all changed.We coordinated a last minute trip to one of our favorite cities and there was some sort of convention in town, meaning most of the major hotel chains were booked up.

I searched around and found an interesting looking boutique hotel, booked it and looked forward to seeing it. We were both pleased when we arrived and checked in. All the amenities we required were there and the staff was much more friendly than at the major hotels. The room was decorated fine and the whole vibe was welcoming.

The biggest surprise was the over sized bath tub in the bathroom. Annie and I had not known each other that long and there were still things for us to explore together. That night I suggested we take a bath together since the tub was large enough for us both to fit. Annie was less than thrilled over the idea. Even though we had enjoyed each other intimately so many times, this seemed a bridge to far for her. It took a lot of convincing on my part before she relented.

Once we got into the tub, it took a while for me to get her to relax and enjoy it. She told me that no one had ever seen her naked in a bath and no one had ever wanted to bathe her or show her love for her body. She cried that first time. She was so deprived of love and physical contact that she did not know how to react or respond.

That might have been one of the longest baths ever.. We decided right then, that as long as we could find boutique hotels that fit within our expense guidelines, and if they all had rooms with large bath tubs, those were the hotels we would use.

And we did. The many hours spent together in a bathtub full of hot water, me showing her how much I loved not only her, but her body were some of the finest hours of our relationship.

I never took a bath before that first time and I have never taken one since she passed. Those experiences are gone forever from my reality, but never from my memories.

Entry #86 Unsure…

The end of another year is upon us, and the 16th anniversary of Annie’s death is only three months away.

I miss her every day, and my grief shows no sign of waning. Many days it is overwhelming and I stumble through the days unfocused and lacking the motivation to go on. No one understands, and even though I sometimes try and confide in another human, I can just tell that they not only don’t get it, they don’t get me at all.

When you fall for someone like I fell for Annie, there is no recovery once that is lost. Losing that loving person, whose touch was electrifying, and the bond we shared, that cannot be recreated with another is soul crushing. Not that I haven’t tried to meet someone who might share some of the same experiences or feelings. It has been to no avail.

The more I try and ascertain what has happened over the intervening years, the more I have come to the realization that I am drawn to a specific type of person. When I meet someone new, I tread very softly and refuse to reveal much about myself until I can feel some level of comfort with that person. Does their life experience in any way relate to my time with Annie? Could they ever understand where I am coming from? Would they even care?

The majority of people I meet disappoint on so many levels. Why are so many people consumed with material things, and not trying to establish a dialogue or friendship with someone who can be empathetic and open to life experiences that may be different from those of the past?

In the end, the few people I have met that have made an emotional and mental connection with me have turned out to be just like Annie. Those few individuals have been both transgender and persons of color. I cannot explain why. I can only recognize the connection and comfort I feel in their presence, often because they are willing to share their experiences with me as I share mine.

The problem is, that for me, it is too late to meet someone new and forge one of those amazing relationships. I am just too old, and those few people I have met and connected with are far younger than I.

So as yet another year draws to a close, I live with my memories of Annie. Meeting another person like Annie, and being able to forge another friendship, and even a possible relationship remains just wishful thinking. These are lost years with more lost years to come. If I was a younger guy, there might be some hope, but alas, I am not. I am hopeful, and yet realistic in the fact that it won’t happen. I will never feel the love and touch of another person like Annie. I might yet be proven wrong, but hold no expectations. I believe I am destined to walk alone with my memories of Annie, a transgender woman of color who changed my life forever.

I believe I have finally reached the point of giving up…

Entry 84: Silence

Silence is so under valued.

The older I get, the more I realize that I get little enjoyment of conversations with most folks. Few have anything meaningful to contribute, and I am so tired of listening to or taking part in inane conversations, upon topics that have no value.

Silence holds much promise in a world overrun with noise, and the fact that most people only wish to hear themselves making profound (to them) statements about absolutely nothing.

Annie taught me so much about appreciating the silence. We could and did spend many hours together without speaking a word. All we had to do was look into each other’s eyes and it was as if we could read each other’s mind.

Our silence with each other was spiritual and sexual all at the same time. If you look into another person’s eyes long enough and in silence, you can actually see their wants and desires expressed back to you. I know this to be true, as Annie and I lived for these moments together, where we could just embrace each other even without touching.

The first time we locked eyes, we knew. We knew how much we desired one another without speaking a word. That first look, brought us a year of unbelievable love and a true sense of having found someone that could in an instant see into our deepest thoughts.

Annie was the gift I could never have anticipated. Every moment we spent together was a gift. The fact that she is gone has haunted me for fifteen years. The silence that we enjoyed so often, is often impossible for me to find. The few times I do find it, is when I travel to one of our favorite places like the beach or the forest. But even then, the silence is fleeting, as my mind is unable to embrace it without her.

The silence is what I strive to find, over and over again. Finding that silence is the only thing that will provide me with the peace I yearn for. It is all I can hope for, because the truth is, I will never find another Annie, and most other people bore me to tears.

Entry #83: 82

82 is the number of entries I have made to this journal prior to this one. I never anticipated that this endeavor would have gone on for this long. Despite all of the things I have written to this point, I feel that there is so much more I care to write about. If only I could motivate myself to reveal more of my memories without falling back into the darkness that inevitably results, It is hard to believe that after all of these years, my grief continues to be worn on the surface of my being. It is inescapable.

If you have not read all of the entries, and are in any way confused over my incessant babbling on, then I would suggest you go back and start at the very beginning with entry number one and as you move forward, a more complete picture of who Annie was and how our lives intersected will emerge.

When I think back to the loss of Annie, that single event shattered my life forever. I left my career, eventually restricted my travel to places other than those we shared together, and when faced with the fact that I continue to age, and decided to no longer work for the benefit of companies, I now spend my time dabbling in anything that cannot be said to be a serious endeavor.

It is said somewhere, that people look at the world with a glass half full or half empty perspective, and that choice determines your level of happiness. Well…I have a glass. My glass has both. One half is half full and I use that to relive and hold dear all of the memories and joy I can bring forth about the times Annie and I had together. The other half is full of the darkness and bitterness of loss without closure. Trying to find a balance between half full and half empty is no small feat, and I fail more times than not in trying to keep myself afloat.

So, this is entry number 83.

My glass tells me there is more to come.

Entry #72: My New Friend

Recently, I had the opportunity to travel from my home and sleep in a strange bed. It was there that I have found a new friend. It was a nice bed…very comfortable and spacious.

Once I got into the bed however, I found a human sized pillow along with a note explaining that this pillow was meant to be hugged when sleeping. Well, of course, I had to try it and it brought back so many memories of Annie.

One of the many things Annie and I loved to do was to just lay in bed, all stretched out hugging each other with nothing between us. It wasn’t just about making love or having sex. It was the comfort we felt with each other in the naked state.

When our schedules were not filled with meetings or clients, we took every opportunity to do this together, even during the day time. Annie would purr and push her body back against me as I hugged and enveloped her. Her actions told me that she felt safe in this bed with me and that in turn made me so happy. The fact that this action provided her with a sense of security was overwhelming in some sense.

Well, Annie isn’t here any longer, and yet, this simple pillow helped me to re live all of these memories of those intimate moments of trust and safety with her.

I don’t seek out another to share these memories or even to make new ones. People are so disappointing to me on so many levels. It has been frustrating to say the least and that is why I choose to not even try any more.

But…I do have a new friend now. I think I will purchase one of these pillows. The feeling of serenity it gives me is indescribable, and I don’t have to worry about being judged by another human who does not even attempt to understand my feelings or thoughts.

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 #39: 12 Years

In  just 10 days, the anniversary of Annie’s passing will be upon me.

I find it impossible to face the fact that it has been so long. Not a day goes by that I do not think about her. The most mundane of things I observe at any given time will make me think of sharing what I am seeing at the moment.

I have read so many articles on grief and moving on, that at times my head spins. The hard truth of the matter is, I cannot move on. One result of not being able to deal with her death, is the fact that I gave up drinking alcohol in any form.

Failure to drink alcoholic beverages has managed to keep most of my demons at bay, except in the rare occasion where I forget and actually take a drink when out with friends. It only takes one. One drink and the depression and darkness overwhelms me and all I can think of is Annie, even while still being among other people. Immediately, my demeanor changes and I must find a way to graciously make an exit. When this darkness roars back, I am in no mood to engage with anyone.

Twelve years without her. Twelve years without intimacy because I am simply afraid that nothing and no one can ever replace what we had together. How could I ever share the baggage I carry with anyone else? Would anyone else care? Would anyone else not run in the other direction, should they find out? My silence, my darkness I find to be the safest of places.

Twelve years without her has made me into a different person. I don’t enjoy large crowds and most of the time I am quite content to be solitary and alone with my thoughts. I listen more than I speak, and I suppose most people think of me as rather indifferent due to my lack of engagement in what I perceive to be inane conversation. Just another piece of baggage I carry with me.

As the date gets closer, I will close myself off to more and more people. It is just what I do. Right now I will be thinking of her and make plans to visit one of the favorite places we shared together. Spending the day in one of her favorite places won’t eliminate my funk, but it will grant me a few hours of pleasure, just by reliving our mutual love for that place.

Many writers and other people just say to move on and get over it when dealing with this type of grief. In my case, the fact is I will never be able to get over it. I will never be able to get over the fact that Annie died without being able to experience what she worked her whole life to achieve. She was cheated out of the love that I have for her and the life we would have made together. In a world filled with hatred and dismissal of who she was, we had our own little bubble of safety and love that provided her and therefore myself with a peace that is lacking in the world even after all these years.

So here I wait for the anniversary of her death yet again, and I wonder how many more anniversaries I will see before I am able to join her.

Entry #38: Memories

Sometimes an every day observation can become a trigger of memories from the past.

Recently, I was out and about and happened to glance at a passing metro bus.

There was a young couple I could see through the window and it brought me back to a time when I had my first girl friend.

At the time, I was 15 and she was sixteen. I was a transfer student into a new school and knew no one. By the luck of the draw I entered into a biology class and was assigned a table and partner. 

I don’t think I grew up in a bubble, but the fact is that everyone I knew and saw at school was white. I didn’t know or have any non-white friends. Not purposely, but that’s where I lived.

So I was quite surprised to be paired up with an African American girl. As it turned out, we both hated the class and neither of us could grasp what the hell we were supposed to learn. 

She made the funniest faces constantly during class. Well, we hit it off and became friends. More than friends. I would walk her to home and school and we began to spend all our free time together. Within a few weeks we were inseparable.

We were young and naive and thought we were in love.  There were many trips around town on the bus together as neither of us were old enough to drive.

We loved to hang out at the beach and kiss and make out everywhere we went. This lasted well into the next  school year.

Laura was a petite little thing and while the teenage hormones raged in both of us, she never let me get past the heavy kissing part. I didn’t care, because all I wanted to do was be with her as many hours of the day as possible.

She never brought me to her house, nor did I bring her to mine.

A mixed race couple was taboo in those days and we knew neither of our families would approve.

So it happened one day that I went to meet her before school and she didn’t come out. No one answered the door. Not the next day or the next either. I showed up on the fourth day and was pounding on the door when a neighbor lady asked what I was doing there. I told her I was there to see Laura. The lady said matter of fact, they moved three days ago.

I was stunned and frantic. How could she just leave like that? Well, we had no cell phones, computers or Internet back then so it was impossible for me to find out what happened or where she had gone. She was just gone.

I would not see or hear from her again for over forty years.

When I met Annie I was so confused, I tried to do a little research and began writing a blog about our shared experiences. It became an outlet for me and Annie enjoyed reading it and then we tried to dissect everything we were experiencing. When Annie died, I decided that I could no longer look at all the things I had written and had shared with her. There was no longer any joy in those words.

It was quite a shock then, to receive an email from the blog only days before I intended to delete it all, from someone who claimed to be Laura from my high school days. Of course, I did not believe her for a minute, but in follow up emails, she told me things that in fact only she would know. So we began to correspond.

I had so many questions. Among them was, why was she reading my blog at all?  She said she had stumbled across it when doing some other reading, and after reading it all, she had a feeling it was written by me so she reached out.

Turns out, she was as lost as I was over her leaving. In fact, her father had seen us together more than once, and had decided without telling her that the family would move rather than let us keep seeing each other. I just could not understand and finally she admitted to me the reason. Her father feared for her safety and refused to believe I was a decent person. I continued to ask why and finally she admitted that she was transgender and knew this about herself for years before she met me. Not only did her parents not know what to do with that information, they tried to hide her away from anyone they did not know personally.

After they moved, within months she ran away. Eventually, she ended up in England, finished her education and began a career. Here it was forty plus years later and she has a successful career and had been living in Japan for over a decade. Laura said she is happy with her life and the choices she has made, is still single and has no desire to ever come back to this country. But, she said, she would love to meet me sometime. I said that would be difficult as I never travel to Japan.

Laura said there might be a solution. She was scheduled to speak at a conference in Canada in a couple of months, and would I be interested in meeting there? Once she gave me the dates, I could see I had some free days from the tour and agreed to meet her there.

Our visit was so good. She is still as petite as she was in high school and just as beautiful, although with a few more wrinkles like the rest of us. We talked for hours, and in the end I was so happy that she found me before I could delete the blog. I told her all about Annie and she already knew most of it from the blog I wrote.

We have stayed in touch since she went back to Japan. She really wants me to visit there. She said once I see it for myself, I would understand what peace and beauty there is in that country, and why she will never leave to live anywhere else. One day, perhaps I will take her up on her offer.

She is happy in who she is, has found acceptance there, and her life is so much more in tune to nature and with peace. I could use some of that myself.

I guess I am glad to have seen that couple on the bus, because some memories are from a better time that might be past, but still a part of ourselves.