Four weeks ago when I was informed that my contract wasn’t funded for the next contract year it was a bitter pill to swallow. Coming close on the heels of Michele’s death I found myself reeling; uncertain of the future. At the time I had very bittersweet thoughts about Michele: I was pleased that she didn’t have to suffer through yet another round of employment roulette and saddened that my closet confidant, with her wisdom and keen insights, wasn’t there to support me.
In the intervening weeks I have had numerous conversations late at night in the darkness of our bedroom with her. Sometimes I talk out loud and others times just to myself. My belief was that she would respond to my through my heart and that if I just allowed it to unfold naturally, the right solution would present itself.
And it did.
This afternoon about 4:00 I was informed by both my employer and the contract holder that my contract was going to be picked up for another year. Yes, I am employed now through January 12, 2007. How do you spell relief: jay. oh. bee.
Of course there are still a dozen or more individuals where I work who are out in the cold. Some I know have found other positions, others I am unsure about. I’m not sure what it says about our society that there are so many situations where one person’s good fortune is another’s bad luck. I have been on both sides of that equation more than once. For reasons that ought to be obvious to anyone I am very grateful that I am on the fortunate side this time.
The hard part now will be to keep the ear-to-ear grin off my face while at work. Whatever part my professionalism, knowledge, or ability played in my selection for renewal doesn’t take away from the same attributes of my fellow teammates who aren’t in my position tonight.
My guardian angel certainly took care of my the past four weeks. Thank you Michele.
Apartment living sucks. It’s like living on the back lot of the Jerry Springer Show during audition season.
The apartment we moved into in late June 2004 has three apartments sharing direct contact, one to the south, one to the west, and one upstairs.
South The neighbor to our south was a little old lady who’s only contribution to our lives was a false fire alarm. We were only aware of her being there on those rare occasions when we were coming or going at the same time. Otherwise her apartment was a black hole of silence. Perfect apartment neighbor. Then one day she came and knocked on the door saying her smoke detector was going off. When asked if there was smoke or fire she said no. I thought it was the intermittent beep that happens when the battery is running low. Grabbing the kitchen stool I followed her into her apartment. Sure enough there was a loud, repeating beeping coming from the bedroom. Once up on top of the stool I realized the sound was coming from the bed side table alarm clock and not the smoke detector. Turns out she had been out of town for a week and forget to reset the alarm before leaving.
West On the day we moved in we nearly put the bed in the west bedroom. However, as we were putting the frame together we could hear through the wall the television of the neighbors to the west. That was enough for us to move our bedroom to the east bedroom. Even today, whenever I go into the west room, or the west bathroom I can hear the constant dull murmur of television through the wall. I think they leave it on all the time, day and night.
Upstairs Our original upstairs neighbors were two twenty-something males who both worked for a local lawn care company. Their garage stall, which shared a common wall with our bedroom, was full of lawn supplies and two motorcycles. Their single allowed parking space was filled with three trucks. Two commercial pickups from the lawn care business, and a personal pickup. The eight apartments that shared the parking pad each were allowed one space in addition to their garage stall. And the lease quite clearly stated that the garage could not be used solely for storage. We complained early and often as having the lot full of their huge vehicles made getting into and out of our garage stall difficult. They were also noisy with their stereo from time to time. We were both pleased last spring when they moved out
The apartment sat empty for several months, and we enjoyed ever moment of silence knowing that the peace would not last for long. Every time we’d hear the place being shown I’d peer out the peep hole and try to get an idea of who was looking at it. One couple was pregnant and had a two-year-old sized crumb cruncher in tow. We were very relived when they didn’t rent.
The renters turned out to be a twenty-something couple. At first we were barely aware of them, but there were some early warning signs that Michele picked up on that have been born out by the soap opera like proceedings I live under now.
I really need a low-light video camera so I can capture these special moments forever. Maybe I could create one of those “digital camera, $500, apartment rent $1000, neighbors who want to be on the Springer Show, priceless” commercials and put it on the Internet.
P.S. Their miniature dachshund shits all over my concrete patio.
It was a long four day weekend for me. I watched too many movies.
Ghost Still as tender and beautiful a love story as when I first saw it. This was one of the films I had rented for Michele and I to watch the day she died. The final scene left me in tears today.
The Rock Not the worst action film ever, but not the best one either. Just a couple hours of testosterone to waste time with.
La Femme Nakita The original “Point of No Return”, and a far better movie from start to finish.
The Abyss While the cold war message isn’t as relevant today as it might have been when this was originally released, it’s still a good film.
Minority Report I enjoy near-future movies because I want to see what other people think the next 10, 20, or 30 years will bring in terms of technology. This film has some very interesting thoughts about where we’ll be in 50 years.
The Bourne Identity While it deviates from the original Robert Ludlum book almost immediately, this was a surprisingly good action film.
The Bourne Supremacy Not as good as the first film above, but still reasonably good. Since there were originally three books about this character I suspect we’ll see the “Bourne Ultimatum” before too much longer.
Sorcerer A taut thriller that isn’t even out on DVD as far as I know. Originally I saw this on the late, late show and years later lucked onto a VHS copy of it. well worth the effort to find and watch.
On The Beach Every bit as good today as when it first was released. A chilling look at one potential future we as humans face if we don’t settle down and stop thinking that force is the answer.
One of the hardest parts about coping with Michele being gone is the hours and hours of time fill. Most week nights aren’t too awful; between dinner and household chores I can usually fill the time until 8:30 or 9:00. Then it’s an hour of mindless television before going to sleep.
Weekends have two speeds, slow and excruciatingly slow. This weekend has been the later, excruciating. Thursday evening was wonderful as I had dinner at a friend’s home. We played games and talked until the wee hours of the morning. It had been a long time since I was up until 2:30 and it felt good. Friday morning I slept in until past 10:00, something of a record for me lately. But then reality set in, I had four long days to fill before Tuesday with its normal work day arrived to fill the time for me.
I have watched movies, been to the book store, grocery shopped, and spent time digging through my storage lockers. About the only real thing I accomplished was getting all of Michele’s old work clothes to Goodwill. I guess I never realized how much of my time was spent just being with Michele. I don’t have good “by myself” skills anymore, if I ever did.
Earlier this evening I chatted via VoIP with a friend and managed to get myself laughing uncontrollably. I realized that the laughter was a way of dumping stress, of letting out the tense energy that builds inside of me as I struggle to cope with hour after hour of unending emptiness. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep.
Only 35 hours until I return to work Tuesday.
After weeks of procrastination I finally gathered up my courage and donated the bulk of Michele’s clothes to Goodwill. As a therapist with a private practice she had amassed quite a collection of very nice clothes; dresses, dress suits, blouses, and skirts.
In all the four huge trash bags had over 125 items in them. I wasn’t able to donate her everyday clothes yet. Those still hang in her side of the closet in our room. I know that I will need to part with them too, someday. But for now I can’t bear the thought of seeing the empty space in the closet. I also wasn’t able to do anything with her wedding dress. Since she had no daughter there’s no one to pass it on to, and eventually I suppose I will have to leave it behind too.
The sobering aspect to this is accepting one more piece of reality - the reality being that she isn’t coming back. Intellectually I know she is dead. Emotionally I am coping with her absence. However, there is a part of me, my soul, my inner child, I don’t know what, that still believes she will come back. And getting rid of her belongings feels like I am betraying that part of me.
Michele would have donated these clothes to Goodwill herself, were she here. They weren’t something she was going to use again and she would rather let someone in need get use out of them than keep them in a closet. I can hear her voice saying, “Someone will get a job because they had good clothes to wear to the interview.”
Still and all, I’m very sad right now. I miss her so very much, and letting go of anything that was hers is painfully hard.
Yesterday I decided to get a new battery for my favorite watch. At one time I had a real fetish for watches; I must have 5 or 6 good ones just in the top drawer of my desk. One in particular has long been my favorite. It’s a Seiko Chronograph with a brass tachymeter and brass dials. Very classy and functional.
After arriving at the jewelry store, and while I was waiting for the watch to be returned to me, I asked about having our two wedding bands melted down and made into a celtic knot. The head clerk was very helpful and explained that I would need to find a reputable goldsmith. It seems that gold wedding bands have more than just yellow gold in them. There are some trace amounts of alloy and if the ring is simply melted and cast into an ingot, the alloy with taint the color, most likely turning it a dull gray color. The metals have to be separated in order to prevent the “tarnishing” from happening.
She also indicated that I would likely need more gold added to the resulting supply in order to make the pendant I desired. And she warned me to check references before choosing a goldsmith, that because the rings, and therefore the gold in them, had great sentimental value to me, I should make sure the goldsmith returned my gold to me once he was done.
All of which was rather off-putting to me. I’m not ready to give up the two rings, especially hers. I carry them with me everywhere I go in my shirt or pants pocket. It maybe that I’ll never feel like transforming them into something else. Like donating her clothes to Goodwill made me feel like I was betraying her memory (and these were clothes she had stopped using), not having her wedding band to hold anymore would be very difficult to accept.
For now, I’m keeping the rings, just as they are.
Everyone has nightmares from time to time. The culturally common one is the “falling dream” where you dream you are falling uncontrollably and wake up suddenly, hopefully, before you smack into the ground. Years ago when I was into downhill skiing I used to have what came to be known between my skiing buddy and I as a ski-mare: dreaming you were rocketing down the slopes uncontrollably.
I, however, have another recurring nightmare, one I’ve had periodically since childhood. In this one there is a hand, or hand-like thing, under the covers with me. Several times while Michele was alive I had this dream intensely enough that I jumped out of bed screaming and pulled the covers completely off the bed. She was comforting and reassuring in the night, but I never really heard the end of it.
Last night, for the first time in years, I had a recurrence of the hand dream. Even thought Michele wasn’t there to be woken by an agitated full-grown man having a child’s nightmare, I could see her gentle smile and hear her soothing words as I tore the bed apart making sure there wasn’t anything in it with me other than the cat. She also suffered from occasional nightmares so she never teased me about them. But she wasn’t above a slightly-mocking sigh of resignation as we went back to sleep after I’d leapt from bed yelling, “the hand! the hand!” As I drifted back to sleep early this morning I could hear that soft sigh again in my ears.
Like most couples, Michele and I had a number of dates each year that were anniversaries of one kind or another. Certainly big ones like birthdays, or our wedding anniversary. But also smaller ones like buying our first house, or the first time we met face to face, or when I asked her to marry me. The very first important date we shared was today.
December 28, 1995 Michele and I met in a chat room on America Online on a Thursday in late December 1995. At the time I was heavily into the martial arts, and Thursday was a workout night for me. I was rarely online that day of the week. Thursday that year feel between Christmas and New Year’s, so the dojo was closed and I was at home. Our chance meeting resulting in the best ten years of my life, and, even though she has moved on to a level of existence that I can’t access, I don’t regret any part of our time together.
At her memorial service in October one of our friends said that she had opened my heart, looking back I see that he is correct. I often told Michele that she took my black and white world and added color to it. The colors are muted and changing now, but they are still present. She gave so much of herself for me, and ultimately (I think in her mind) laid down her life so I could have mine. I cannot imagine a greater gift, my goal is to not squander it; although I do not know what that means yet.
I do know that December 28th will always be special to me. In a very real sense it was the first day of the rest of my life.
From AlterNet comes this:
See for yourself.
Most of the past weekend was spent making and consuming food. Friday afternoon after work I went to the grocery store and bought what I thought were all the ingredients for Cuban style chicken and rice, chili, breakfast casserole, and tacos. After getting it all home and put away I promptly went out to eat. Go figure.
Saturday I was up early and tackled the breakfast casserole. First I browned and crumbled half a tube each of mild and hot sausage. After removing the sausage to my casserole pan, I finely diced a large potato and browned it in the drippings plus a little olive oil. Meanwhile I scrambled a dozen eggs and got out a package of shredded Colby and Jack cheese. Once the potato was browned it was sprinkled over the sausage. The eggs were poured over the whole thing, and then even covered with the cheese. Into the oven for 35-40 minutes at 350, until the cheese was golden brown. It is surprisingly rich, so this one 13x9 casserole is going to last for a week or ten days.
Saturday afternoon I made the chicken and rice, and a quick trip to the store for the forgotten lemon and diced tomatoes. As usual it was very good.
For lunch I made tacos using the Old El Paso kit. Quick and easy. The leftovers would serve as Sunday lunch and Monday’s dinner.
Sunday morning I made chili. The last time I added a single teaspoon of red pepper flakes arbitrarily deciding that would be mild. This time I added two teaspoons of flakes, one to the meat while it was browning, and a second to the mixture after the tomatoes were added. Mild plus perhaps. Next time I’ll add three teaspoons worth ~ a whole tablespoon.
Monday I baked a chocolate cake and made butter-cream frosting from scratch. Since I had the last of the taco kit for dinner I was quite full and actually didn’t sample the cake. I’ll have the first piece this evening. The rest is going with me to dinner at a friend’s house Thursday evening.
Making the food was fun and it helped to center me in a weekend full of emotions. It is both difficult and rewarding to cook now. Michele and I shared so much of our large dish cooking over the years that I feel sad doing it by myself now. But I also feel it is a living memorial to her and our time together. She would be very upset with me were I to give up cooking. And the best part is it gives me a ready supply of great lunches during the week. Today’s menu is left over chicken and rice. Mmm-mmm.