Entry #50: Broken

Admitting to yourself that you are a fundamentally broken person is a hard reality to accept. Hiding that fact from others is so much easier.

When Annie died, I became a broken person. In eight short weeks, the thirteenth anniversary of her death will be upon me, and if anything, I am more broken than when she first died. I simply cannot get beyond the fact that she is gone forever.

With the pandemic raging, there is less and less human contact with others, and that works to my benefit. Without in person meetings, I no longer have to put on a smiling face and deny my grief to others by appearing as a normal person. Normal is long gone for me.

Only one other human, (my muse “A”) who I know personally, understands my broken status, and even she does not know the whole of it, since she has never read the entirety of this blog. There is no one else to confide these facts in, as I am distrustful of most others, due to being judged over and over again for who I decided to love when Annie and I were planning out our lives together. I know in today’s world there is more acceptance of who Annie was, but it is not good enough for me. There still remains too much hate in this world for her and what we had together.

I often debate with myself about moving somewhere new, and attempting to start over again, but in my heart, I know it will not make any difference. While new scenery may be enjoyable, and moving to a place where no one knows me would be refreshing, nothing in my grief will change. I will just drag my baggage wherever I wander.

I accept my broken status. No…I actually revel in it. For, were I to explore therapy or medication to conquer my darkness and grief and move on, my memories of Annie may diminish if those things were to be resolved. I can never allow those memories to fade away, as they are the most intimate part of me left.

The world is full of broken people, and I am just one of them. I may one day meet someone who would take the time to ask the right questions, and pierce my wall of silence, but I don’t hold out much hope. I will carry on in my own broken way, reliving all these memories Annie and I made together as long as I keep breathing.

Entry #49: Nature

Annie wasn’t a huge fan of nature. It took quite a few trips into the forest or on various hikes, before she was able to enjoy the beauty I so desperately wanted to share with her.

One time I specifically wanted to take her to one of my favorite places, so we grabbed a spare blanket and pillows from the hotel and off we went to explore. Once we arrived, we set up next to a small stream so we could enjoy the sounds of the water and the birds in the neighboring trees.

After a while, Annie lay down with her head in my lap and totally fell asleep while I stroked her hair. I was so surprised that she was so comfortable that I began to think of all the issues she had. Annie had a lot of issues, most of them surrounding her fear of not being accepted and all the roadblocks thrown in her path due to being transgender.

The longer I sat with her the more issues I could list, and I quickly realized how unequipped I was to be able to help her through all of them. I didn’t even know what I didn’t know, and felt like I was failing her each time one of her issues came to fore.

This was one of the hardest moments to come to grips with. I knew most of her issues by this time, and yet I had no idea how to help her other than to continue to show her how much I loved her.

In a few short months after this day, she passed, and my feelings of having failed her overcame everything I tried to do. How could I have allowed this to happen to her? I had no answers then, and in the aftermath and through the advancement of technology over the years, I was now able to research quite a bit regarding her situation, yet it gives me no solace to know now what I did not know then.

And yet, despite all this time that has passed, I cannot shake the dread in my heart that I failed her when she needed me the most. I am an old guy now, having lived the last 12 plus years without her. I am not sure how many years I have left myself, but what I do know is that the hole in my heart is not fixable. Going through the motions most days, her spirit is with me in everything I do. My friends constantly ask me what is on my mind and why I have become somewhat of a recluse. There are no words I can share, as Annie’s passing has brought such overwhelming sorrow to my life that I cannot bring myself to trust anyone with my feelings.

Entry #48: Hot Dogs

Annie always had the ability to surprise me when I least expected it.

One of the things that we enjoyed doing together was going out to dance clubs in certain cities where she thought she was comfortable and not threatened. One of those cities is San Francisco.

So it was one night, that we went out a little later than we normally would to a club where we had not been before. A great time was had, especially doing a lot of people watching. People were definitely dressed for a good time And it was fairly crowded.

By the time we decided to leave, we were pretty hungry, and it was into the early hours. I doubted we would be able to find an open restaurant, but to my surprise, there was a Mexican hot dog cart outside of the club.

Now, we all have preconceived ideas about different things. Annie wanted to get a hot dog. I was shocked! Not only had she never said she liked hot dogs, but the idea of watching her eat a hot dog made me laugh. It just seemed to be so incongruous to watch her eat a hot dog while standing in the street with mustard seeping out of the bun and onto her lips. I wish I had a picture of that moment.

Even a hot dog can surprise you at some point..

Entry #45: Walking

Annie and I walked the cities we visited as much as we could. There is nothing quite like walking various neighborhoods and observing the daily life that ebbs and flows. You can’t get that when in a car or a bus.

However, walking in nature is quite different. When I proposed to Annie that we take a walk into the forest for the first time, she was completely unprepared. She readied herself with a casual dress and some flip flops (and I hate flip flops). I convinced her to change into tights and since she had no hiking shoes, we had to go shopping.

Upon arrival at the trail head, she claimed to be ready, yet I could sense her reluctance to begin. I had no idea until that moment that she had never been on a trail or explored nature in any serious way.

We started out, and the quiet, save for the sound of the wind in the trees just overcame her. We walked for a long time, holding hands and just watching and listening in our own silence. As we progressed, her grip on my hand tightened more and more and I was pretty sure she was having a problem being somewhere where she had little control and where she depended on me to explore and find our way back.

Finding a nice log that was free of insects, we sat in the silence, and tried to absorb the energy of both the forest, as well as our comfort and connection with each other. I knew she was not able to completely relax when I noticed she was shaking and seemed to be trying to say something but was having an issue.

I said we can leave if this makes you uncomfortable, and she just turned to me with tears in her eyes and said she never thought she would ever meet a man who got her. When I asked what she meant, she said that all her life she refused to engage with men as she had been bullied constantly when growing up because of who she was.

That caught me off guard as she had never revealed that before. Annie had never opened that door until we met. This revelation was just another in a long line of reveals from her that proved to me that we had something special that neither of us anticipated.

After getting up off the log, we walked for the better part of the morning, just holding hands and feeling the electricity flowing between us. This happened to be the first of many, many walks we took in nature over the next year.

I miss her every day, especially when I think of walking out and about in nature holding her hand and having that living connection to someone I get.

Now, I am too old to find another like her, but it sure would be nice to have someone to hold hands with and walk through the forest, listening to the wind…

Entry #43: Safety

It did not take long after Annie and I met before I learned of her fear for her own safety.

The stories that she shared about Ellen and her growing up and facing the world, forced me to take notice of the world around me in ways that I never anticipated.

I made sure that whenever we were out together, I would always be sure to scan the faces of those around us, and ensure that no one ever got too close as to make her uncomfortable.

But, it was the time alone with her while she was sleeping, which I found to cause me to worry more than I could explain. I loved to lay and watch her sleeping, lay my head down on her chest so I could listen to her heart. However, inevitably my thoughts would focus in on what else could I do to ensure her safety. I knew that there was a lot of discrimination in this country, but I had never had to deal with it on a personal level before. Hours would go by some nights while I wrestled with the fact that her fears had now become mine.

Short of leaving the country to make a life together in a safer place, there did not seem to be any other viable solutions. Over time, we discussed this and made our plans. Plans that we were never able to complete.

So, here I am, 12 years and seven months later. Over the years since her passing, I haven’t given a lot of thought about the state of the country. And yet, while there has been much progress regarding equality and the struggle for many groups to find a voice and be heard, it seems like every week I hear of more murders committed against people of color for no other reason than hate.

To be sure, Annie was part of that group. Although the terminology has changed over the years, make no mistake that the hate and discrimination that might have been more subtle back in those days, is still with us and the current regime in this country now advocates outright violence for their extremist followers.

The regular murders of transgender women of color in this country is sickening and heartbreaking. I don’t have a magic wand to come up with a solution. All I have is my memories of Annie and yes, Ellen, and wonder what their lives could have become were they still here.

From where I sit, if something major does not change after this election, then I honestly have to wonder if this country can survive to ensure true equality. More and more, I come to the conclusion that his country no longer holds value to me if there is no equality. Canada is calling, once the borders are open again. Leave or stay. Whichever I decide, my memories of Annie will always be with me.

Just a thought…

Entry #42: Fear

Recently, a reader asked me what my motivation is to write this blog. I can sum it up in one word.

Fear.

As we all get older, many people encounter cognitive and mental acuity issues, dementia and more. So, being in control of my mental faculties, at least for the moment, this blog addresses my fears of losing that control at some point. You see…I remember absolutely everything about Annie, so I put these memories down in writing, just in case the day comes when I cannot remember.

I remember everything…

Her laugh

Her beauty

Her fashion

Her strengths

Her weaknesses and vulnerabilities

Her desire to be accepted and loved and her fear of not being accepted and loved

Her smell

Her taste

Every single inch of her body

How she looks when she is sleeping

Her ability to communicate with me through simple glances

The list is endless right now and my fear is that the memory list may get shorter as I get older.

So…I write…

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.

Entry #35: My Darkness

Not that long ago, I was asked when the darkness started to be evident in my life. I couldn’t really put a specific time on it, although I suspect it was at a young age.

Like most families out there, mine was dysfunctional no matter which way you looked at it. I don’t recall ever hearing the “I love you or I am proud of you” words. Ever.

As an introverted young person, I kept to myself most of the time and grew to embrace the chaos and dark thoughts that started to make themselves known to me more and more often.

Music became my lifeline from a young age. When performing, those dark thoughts never managed to make themselves known. I always knew they were there, but in music, I was always able to keep them bubbling under the surface.

I might have been fooling myself, but I thought I had it under control for all those years.

While the darkness was always there in the background, it didn’t manifest itself in an all empowering force until I lost Annie.

Annie brought a light into my life that had never been there. For the year or so we were together, I did not have a single dark thought and I believed I had beat it for good. I didn’t even come close.

When Annie passed, everything I knew to be true died. The darkness that enveloped me was unlike anything before. The most difficult aspect after facing the fact that Annie was gone, was losing the music. My life up to that point existed solely for my ability to perform and to please Annie. Music was my only safe place, and now it was gone along with Annie. There was no longer any kind of lifeline left. I spiraled down into an alcohol fueled frenzy that I only survived due to a friend dragging me back from the abyss.

I still saw friends, although not as often, and I could tell they knew I wasn’t right, but I rebuffed all their questions and put up my walls. I no longer saw the point. They tried, but over time I pushed many of them away.

I have been a captive of my own special darkness for going on eleven plus years now. It rules everything I do and the walls are now impenetrable.

The real friend list is pretty short now and they, just like my many acquaintances have no idea what goes around in my head. The music is still lost to me, although I do go to a show once in a while and sit in a dark corner and try not to engage with anyone.

My darkness is now my security, and I am no longer afraid of it. No one knows, for the simple reason is I don’t trust anyone enough to tell them. Nor do I want to. I cannot imagine that I could possibly meet another person who could bring back the light the way Annie did.

This surely isn’t the way I planned to finish out my time, but it is my reality and I am ok with that.

Entry #34: Forgiveness

This post has been a long time in the writing. I have started it and discarded it so many times, I cannot count.

Many hours have been spent reading articles and trying to get my head around the concept of forgiveness.

What I have managed to accomplish is to think through the pain of happenings in my past, and even come to the point where I can forgive those who have done me wrong. I won’t and in some cases can’t face them to admit to it but it does give me some peace of mind when I think of clearing my mind and emotions that I have felt against those people.

Those instances of forgiveness do indeed clear my mind of the negative thoughts associated with those people and actions and while I would like to think that I have made some sort of breakthrough, I am only fooling myself.

In the darkness of my mind, and the cloud that follows my every thought and action, there is something that I cannot ever forgive.

I can never, under any circumstance imagine forgiving myself for what I managed to do when Annie passed from this life.

When she explained to me that she intended to travel to Thailand for her surgery, I did not try and force the issue of my traveling there with her. She explained that she waited her whole life for this trip and she wished to do it on her own. I could have gone with her. I could certainly afford it time wise and financially. In the end I honored her wishes and stayed home.

That is the one decision in my life I will regret to my dying day.

I left her to travel alone and lay in a hospital in a country she had never been to, with no one by her side.

She died alone in that hospital without me by her side to show her how much I loved her or to be able to say goodbye.

There will never be closure for me.

I will never be able to forgive myself for not being there for her at the end.

My life will go on however, and it is a bitter life to face without her.