Entry #15: Disfunction

When Annie described her family life and her journey, I found it to be a heartbreaking story.

She said that she knew who she was by the time she reached ten years old. While her mother supported her in minor ways, the animosity she received from her father devastated her. He railed against all her decisions, and when she was thirteen he threw her out of the house.

Against all odds Annie and Ellen surfed couches at the homes of friends and worked their way through high school. They went to the same college and even though they both worked around their classes, they could only afford one studio room on campus, which they shared until they graduated.

Both were lucky to land full time careers after graduation. Ellen with the government, which meant moving to Denver and Annie with an insurance company, making the move to Seattle. While building their careers they found they travelled frequently to the same cities and saw each other at least twice a month.

When we met, Annie was thirty nine, and Ellen was thirty eight. Neither were able to keep in touch with their families although through friends Annie made sure her mother always knew where she was. I remember many nights we would lie in bed and she would tell me horrible stories of her childhood. I grew to despise her father, even though we would never meet.

Even though we had not yet completed the arrangements to live together and move to Canada, our lives together were as normal as could be expected taking into consideration the discrimination she endured in the country at the time. She would take me to dance clubs in three of our favorite cities where she knew she would be safe from scrutiny and there would not be any issues. These clubs were unlike the bars or music rooms I frequented. Everyone was there to have a good time and no one cared about your personal life. We always went as a couple and were accepted as such.

After Annie passed and the months of anger and despair seemed to ease up a bit, I found that everything had changed for me mentally. It wasn’t enough that I gave up playing music. Traveling to the same cities we always travelled to, I found myself walking down the same streets, looking into the same shop windows, picking out clothes for Annie even though she was gone. One morning I woke up to find a bag on the table with a beautiful sexy dress in it. I obviously bought it the night before. At least I had the receipt so I took it back. I knew I had reached a turning point one night when I went into one of the clubs we had both visited so many times. It was so strange to go in as a male without her on my arm. There were some looks and I got the distinct feeling I wasn’t welcome any more. I was at the bar having a drink when a woman came up next to me, grabbed my ass and said hello. I turned to her, smiled and said sorry I am just leaving. I don’t know what she had in mind, but I was not interested.

I knew right then that I could not continue on like this. All of the adventures and the life we had in those cities were now just memories and every visit became more difficult. When I returned home, I quit my job. I could no longer play the music and I couldn’t continue to mentally tear myself apart revisiting those places. I just did not care about anything.

Over the intervening years the band has continued to reach out to me to play shows, but I just can’t do it. I still love music and will frequently go to some of my old clubs as long as the music is not what I played. Since I gained all the weight, most of the people I know don’t recognize me and I am ok with that. I would rather just pay for a ticket and sit in a dark corner in the back and enjoy the music without having to interact with anyone. I don’t travel much either and when I do, I pick places I haven’t been to before so I don’t have to face those old places.

I can face the fact that I have some sort of mental deficiency in dealing with this past, but the thought of going to a complete stranger to discuss it seems a bridge too far to me. Writing seems to be an adequate outlet for now, but what I miss most is having that human physical contact that comes from a having a true friend you can just hug and touch and discuss your true feelings with.

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 #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.