Several weeks ago my husband went to Wisconsin to see his younger sister who was terminally ill. He wanted to see her before she passed to the church triumphant. He did accomplish his goal. He was in Wisconsin for ten days.
I have debated for a couple of weeks as to whether I should even blog about the incident that I am going to describe. I came to the conclusion that those followers who know me would be interested in this most strange chapter of my life's odyssey.
A few days after my husband left I got a message through Facebook from a woman who I really do not know well, although I have know of her since I was a child. She asked a series of questions including: "Are you the Rachael who dated my brother?" "Are you the girl who went to Puerto Rico for my younger brother's funeral?" The answer to both questions is "Yes.
To answer your curious stares, my male friend, who died in 1998 was her brother. Her younger brother was murdered on a beach in Columbia in the early eighties. He was a drug mule and got caught smuggling drugs. My dad had connections with the State Department and got his body our of Columbia with some small effort. Gratitude is a powerful emotion. I went to Puerto Rico for the funeral because I was asked to. That was the last time I had seen this woman.
I suggested she call me and we could probably get together at the earliest possible moment. I was wrought with anxiety. Why in the world did she have the need to contact me at this late date?
The next day she arrived at my house and we set forth to reminisce about the "good ole days". Old days yes, and through the fog of time, we only remember the good part. She left Mexico ten years ago and has lived in Sarasota, Florida ever since.
It still amazes me how her family and mine have followed one another from pillar to post. Well, it seems that way. Mostly my family following hers from here to there and somehow we all end up in Florida. Inadvertent coincidence. Her dad retired and died here, 5 miles from where I live now. Her older brother lived in Citrus county and died there, 40 miles north of where I live now. She is in Sarasota, under 100 miles south of me. My dad had a winter home in Sarasota and his wife died there while on a winter hiatus. That is stuff novels are made of....
I, at this point, am dying of curiosity as to why she had sought me out. However, she does not seem to anxious to divulge her purpose for initiating this visit.
We decide to go out for lunch.... Loading me and my wheelchair in her car we set off to a local restaurant. We get seated and order drinks and she tells me that someone is meeting us in a few minutes. Before I can say "Who?" a very familiar figure walks in the door. He is tall, handsome, trimmer than I remember with white hair and extraordinary blue eyes. Description of my stunned reaction at seeing him left me wordless. I stuttered, stammered, and generally made a fool of myself. Word salad would best describe my utterances. I do remember mumbling something about him being dead already.
The answer, gang, is Federal Witness Protection. I cannot explain the circumstances mainly because I was not privy to them. The upshot is he is free of those ties after 15 years.
We talked and talked and then talked some more. He never remarried, that was just a ploy to get me to move on. (It worked, buster!) "Why did you not take me with you?" He could only take a woman he was married to...(You blew it, again, buster.)
I don't know if I accept that rationale, considering our history. However, I am not about to argue the point.
To think, I had a forty year relationship with this man and then I thought he had died. I mourned this man with all my heart. I fervently missed this person.
I now find myself, married to a sweetheart of a man and relatively happy. I will continue my life as is. I know old loves never die, they fade into the recesses of time fog. My dear friend, I wish you love, peace and good luck. Is this the final chapter?
Saturday, August 21, 2010
A Long Time Relationship
How does one explain a long time relationship? Start at the beginning, you say... mebbe that is easy... its the results that can be terribly complicated. But, I shall give a dignified gun-ho.
When I was almost eight in 1950 my folks and I moved to Mexico City. It was the Easter before I turned eight. And yes, my brilliant (no pun) and not very practical dad tried to cross from Texas into Mexico on Easter day. What a fiasco!
I digress from the question.
We lived at a couple of locations before my parents bought a house, which later in my life seemed to be fitting, on Calle Sierra Nevada. (I love the state of Nevada).
By this time I had turned ten and my sister Sara was an infant.
I had a best girlfriend who lived next door to this family. The family consisted of three boys and one girl. They ranged in age from age 12 down to age six. There came a time that the oldest boy - twelve - would invite me over to his house to play and I would go and generally would end up in their living room with his dad and mom and we four would play Scrabble. The other kids, including my girlfriend, found Scrabble boring. Most likely, I could out spell anyone (Still can), and very few brave souls would challenge me to anything that had to do with words.
I went to boarding school in El Paso, Texas the year I turned eleven. My friend went to military school in San Antonio, Texas. We were avid letter writers. He would write, I would respond. We only saw each other at Christmas and summer vacations.
We were growing up and when I was twelve and he fourteen he gave me my first kiss. I was totally enamored. He was pretty well smitten. We never talked about mushy stuff, but, I just knew.... what? I hadn't the foggiest clue, but I just knew....
Time went on, my parents separated and when I was 15 we came home to the United States. My dad had custody and we went to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. My friend graduated in 1958 and went on to college, still in Texas. We were still communicating. He came to Bethlehem, twice before I graduated and now, we were in a deeper, more committed relationship.
I moved to New York in 1960 to be with my mom and to start college. I had wanted to go to Berkley however, even though I was accepted, my dad said "Harrump, do you think that money grows on trees?" So, I applied and was accepted to NYU. I could then live with my mom and not have to incur the expense of a dormitory or off campus apartment.
There was an ulterior motive to wanting to go to Berkley, besides the prestige, my friend was now in California and I wanted to be in California, too.
Our lives crisscrossed each other for the next four years. I would fly to California, he would come to New York.
I graduated in 1964 and went out looking for a job. Next thing I know, I am on the phone with my friend. Will I come to California so we can get married? That was the gist of the conversation. Little did I know, my life was about the get very complicated.
The summer of 1964 I went to California and the comedy was about to commence. I was met at the airport, dropped off at my cousin's house. Yeah, well, I stayed at my cousin's for six months and not a peep out of HIM!
I went home, sad, uncomprehending, and disillusioned. Did it ever occur to me to call the reason why I was in California? No. Well maybe, but, girls of my upbringing didn't chase after the fellas. That was the rationale I used. Dumb, you betcha!
Six months later, guess who is on my phone. By this time I had my own apartment.
All sugar and honey. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Puleeze, can I come to the City and see you?"
Again, I gave in, and he came to the City. The upshot was that he had married someone else. He had done the honorable thing, she was pregnant, yada, yada, yada.
I didn't know what to do, but true to form, I did nothing.
I know that I should have terminated the relationship, but, I could not do it.
We were still communicating with each other. Same ole pattern.
Months would pass, then would come the urge to see my buddy, or he would get the urge to see me. I don't know how to explain this relationship... it was definitely different.
Anyway, several years and several kids later and we were still talking. I went in the Navy, I had my twins, he divorced his wife, my mother died, his mother passed away, my dad retired, I moved to California. These were all reasons to talk to and my friend and he to me. An old song comes to mind. "Just Say My Name and I'll Be There." We had always operated on this premise.
One day, however, he was asking me a favor and somehow the name "Linda" entered the conversation. I thought to myself, "No, I am not going there." I was not willing to give in again. Instead of my usual backing down I told him that all bets were off.
That was in 1995 or '96.
In April of 1998 my dad died. In May of 1998 I met Walt, my husband, now. For the first time in countless of years I did not think of my friend's birthday on May 17th.
I wrote the letter looking for my friend towards the end of May, 1998. He had passed away on May 15th, two days before his 58th birthday.
Misspent youth? Probably
Too much wishful thinking? Maybe
Wanting to go back to a place that time has softened? No
I am content, my husband is my rock. I definitely, for the first time in my life, feel anchored.
I just miss my friend.
When I was almost eight in 1950 my folks and I moved to Mexico City. It was the Easter before I turned eight. And yes, my brilliant (no pun) and not very practical dad tried to cross from Texas into Mexico on Easter day. What a fiasco!
I digress from the question.
We lived at a couple of locations before my parents bought a house, which later in my life seemed to be fitting, on Calle Sierra Nevada. (I love the state of Nevada).
By this time I had turned ten and my sister Sara was an infant.
I had a best girlfriend who lived next door to this family. The family consisted of three boys and one girl. They ranged in age from age 12 down to age six. There came a time that the oldest boy - twelve - would invite me over to his house to play and I would go and generally would end up in their living room with his dad and mom and we four would play Scrabble. The other kids, including my girlfriend, found Scrabble boring. Most likely, I could out spell anyone (Still can), and very few brave souls would challenge me to anything that had to do with words.
I went to boarding school in El Paso, Texas the year I turned eleven. My friend went to military school in San Antonio, Texas. We were avid letter writers. He would write, I would respond. We only saw each other at Christmas and summer vacations.
We were growing up and when I was twelve and he fourteen he gave me my first kiss. I was totally enamored. He was pretty well smitten. We never talked about mushy stuff, but, I just knew.... what? I hadn't the foggiest clue, but I just knew....
Time went on, my parents separated and when I was 15 we came home to the United States. My dad had custody and we went to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. My friend graduated in 1958 and went on to college, still in Texas. We were still communicating. He came to Bethlehem, twice before I graduated and now, we were in a deeper, more committed relationship.
I moved to New York in 1960 to be with my mom and to start college. I had wanted to go to Berkley however, even though I was accepted, my dad said "Harrump, do you think that money grows on trees?" So, I applied and was accepted to NYU. I could then live with my mom and not have to incur the expense of a dormitory or off campus apartment.
There was an ulterior motive to wanting to go to Berkley, besides the prestige, my friend was now in California and I wanted to be in California, too.
Our lives crisscrossed each other for the next four years. I would fly to California, he would come to New York.
I graduated in 1964 and went out looking for a job. Next thing I know, I am on the phone with my friend. Will I come to California so we can get married? That was the gist of the conversation. Little did I know, my life was about the get very complicated.
The summer of 1964 I went to California and the comedy was about to commence. I was met at the airport, dropped off at my cousin's house. Yeah, well, I stayed at my cousin's for six months and not a peep out of HIM!
I went home, sad, uncomprehending, and disillusioned. Did it ever occur to me to call the reason why I was in California? No. Well maybe, but, girls of my upbringing didn't chase after the fellas. That was the rationale I used. Dumb, you betcha!
Six months later, guess who is on my phone. By this time I had my own apartment.
All sugar and honey. Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Puleeze, can I come to the City and see you?"
Again, I gave in, and he came to the City. The upshot was that he had married someone else. He had done the honorable thing, she was pregnant, yada, yada, yada.
I didn't know what to do, but true to form, I did nothing.
I know that I should have terminated the relationship, but, I could not do it.
We were still communicating with each other. Same ole pattern.
Months would pass, then would come the urge to see my buddy, or he would get the urge to see me. I don't know how to explain this relationship... it was definitely different.
Anyway, several years and several kids later and we were still talking. I went in the Navy, I had my twins, he divorced his wife, my mother died, his mother passed away, my dad retired, I moved to California. These were all reasons to talk to and my friend and he to me. An old song comes to mind. "Just Say My Name and I'll Be There." We had always operated on this premise.
One day, however, he was asking me a favor and somehow the name "Linda" entered the conversation. I thought to myself, "No, I am not going there." I was not willing to give in again. Instead of my usual backing down I told him that all bets were off.
That was in 1995 or '96.
In April of 1998 my dad died. In May of 1998 I met Walt, my husband, now. For the first time in countless of years I did not think of my friend's birthday on May 17th.
I wrote the letter looking for my friend towards the end of May, 1998. He had passed away on May 15th, two days before his 58th birthday.
Misspent youth? Probably
Too much wishful thinking? Maybe
Wanting to go back to a place that time has softened? No
I am content, my husband is my rock. I definitely, for the first time in my life, feel anchored.
I just miss my friend.
A delayed reaction
A very close friend of mine.... extremely close, to say the least... died eleven years ago on May 15, 1998. This is a fact that was not totally lost on me at the time. He was a person that I would come in contact approximately once or twice a year for a 40 year span. However, I had not seen him the two years or so prior to his death. We had had an argument, and as a result were not speaking to each other
Sometime around the middle of May, 1998 I decided that the time had come to try to contact this person and mend broken fences. I sent a letter to an address of a relative in hopes that my overture would be passed on. Instead I received a letter to the effect that this friend had passed away
Well, I filed the information and got on with the rest of my life. It was as if this death of a dear friend was of no consequence. What is the matter with me? I guess I went into complete denial mode
Anyhoo, to make a long story short. A couple of months ago I started getting very anxious about this friend. I went to the Internet for information and sure enough the Social Security death index confirmed what I already knew but for some reason had rejected.
I started having dreams and memories started to come flooding back. From our childhood on, I recalled vivid details.
Why now? Why not ten years ago? What is the point? Do I feel guilty?
I don't know the answer to these questions, I just miss my friend.
Sometime around the middle of May, 1998 I decided that the time had come to try to contact this person and mend broken fences. I sent a letter to an address of a relative in hopes that my overture would be passed on. Instead I received a letter to the effect that this friend had passed away
Well, I filed the information and got on with the rest of my life. It was as if this death of a dear friend was of no consequence. What is the matter with me? I guess I went into complete denial mode
Anyhoo, to make a long story short. A couple of months ago I started getting very anxious about this friend. I went to the Internet for information and sure enough the Social Security death index confirmed what I already knew but for some reason had rejected.
I started having dreams and memories started to come flooding back. From our childhood on, I recalled vivid details.
Why now? Why not ten years ago? What is the point? Do I feel guilty?
I don't know the answer to these questions, I just miss my friend.
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