The Other House

Much to the surprise of a lot of my friends, I own a second house.
Roger's first house.
And since we moved out in 2007, I have had the same renters.
They are awesome.
They take care of the house.
They take care of the yard.
And just fantastic people in general.

I knew this day would come.
I prayed it would not.
And it is a bittersweet feeling.
They bought a (different) house.
I am happy for them.
But I am sad to lose them as renters.
Since they moved in, (we) I have never had to worry about the house at all.
I did not even really have to think about it which is probably why my friends do not realize I own a second house.

Today as I was thinking about the house and my renters, I remembered something.
The night before.
They saw him last.
Roger had gone to that house because of Tropical Storm Fay rains.

I remember Roger recounting his visit.
Talking about how their oldest son asked about me.
My renter later told me how he kept saying "my wife" like she did not know my name.
She said it was really cute.

And now the last people to see Roger are leaving my life.
I could hope they will keep in touch but I know that is unrealistic.
Sigh.

The Road

For so many years, I saw people almost do the exact same mistake the other driver made in our accident.
In the wrong lane for the direction they wanted to go.
So they would violently get into the correct lane.
Cutting off other drivers.
Running off the road.
I wondered who designed such a terrible highway fork.
On a southbound road, to go east, drivers had to be in the left lane.
And vice versa.

I remember when the state posted your "Drive Safely" sign.
I remember how upset when I saw the location.
It was so far away from the road.
The other driver would never see it.
Other people would never see it.
And logic said, "Perhaps they are going to do some construction soon."

Then a year or so ago, they started.
And for a while now, Roger's sign has been hidden.
I keep waiting.
I keep hoping to see it again.

And while I wait, they did it.
They fixed the road.
It finally makes sense.
No longer can people make the same mistake.
And for that I am relieved.

A Different Kind of Grief

I always think holidays are going to get better.
And in ways they do.
Of course, thoughts of Roger increase this time of year.
Missing him increases.
Especially with a new year approaching. A different year number.
It is quite a concrete reminder of exactly how far away Roger's physical existence is in my life.

And this year I have some new types of grief.
Like the loss of friends.

And I keep thinking about the loss of this particular "best friend".
Like always, hindsight is 20/20.
I keep slapping myself for being so naive.
So gullible. So believing. So stupid.
I should have seen it coming.
I should have seen the red flags over the last year.

We were supposed to be pregnant together.
And as your "best friend" you did not tell me when you changed your mind.
As someone who spent afternoons at your house sharing my life and trying to be the best friend I could be, you waited to tell me in a group of people that you were more than three months along.
And although I was very excited and happy for you, after a little digestion of the new information I kept thinking of how it should have been me.
If Roger had not died.
I did not know I would have this reaction.
I did not even see it coming till it was sitting on my lap in a group of eight people and I swallowed my grief for you.
But you said you knew my reaction would happen.
A best friend would have told me alone.
On one of the countless afternoons at your house.
But you didn't.

You were the one who gave me the title of best friend.
Yet not a single picture of you and me in your house.
Red f-ing flag.

The next red flag was at my graduation party.
My emotions were running high.  I needed you.
I graduated.
In the same room as Roger.
Because Roger died.
Because I could afford to go to school full time.
Because Roger was not there.
You offered your help.
I accepted. Stupid me.
Then you came five minutes before other guests.
Without helping at all.
You barely even spoke with me.
But again I forgave you.
I was the fool once more.

Giving you all I could for your baby shower.
The cake you wanted.
Driving four hours to be with you.
To celebrate you.
And trying to shower you with gifts to show how much I cared.
Stupid, stupid me.

Red flag again when picking out dresses for my wedding.
You could not leave me fast enough.
And when I mentioned coming to help you in your nursery.
I sensed the hostility.
But I ignored it.
Ignored the red flag flying in my face.
I ignored the sirens going off in my head.

Then to find out you did not want me at the hospital when your baby was born.
Or when complications arose.
To find out in a mass email message when others knew the day before.
What a shock to the system.

Then the email came.
All the hurtful things that were said to me.
To know that I was not loved.

What a fool I am.
What a stupid fool I am.
No more. No more.
But I still grieve.

"Family"

This Christmas was going to be the first.

The first time I (and Mr. X) went to Miami for Christmas since Roger's death.

The first time we were going to spend this holiday with Roger's family.

I was excited.

I was nervous.

I was looking forward to it.

I remember the Tuesday when the doctor wanted to speak to me in person.

The day when he told me all bets were off.

Roger was done.

"This is as good as it will get."

A million thoughts were running through my head.

And one big thought: I was going to lose Roger's family.

First, they would hate me.

Because of course this was all my fault. 

Second, they would leave me.

This wonderful gift of family that Roger had given to me was going to disappear.

But I was reassured.

I was told that would never happen.

"You will always be my prima."

"My niece, Star."

And I believed it.

Those who loved me before would love me still.

I believed it with my entire being.

In some ways, it is true.

Some of the family is still my family.

Like I feel so connected to Grace.

She is truly a big sister to me.

I can talk to her about anything.

I cannot imagine my life without her in it.

And sometimes, for a tiny, minuscule split second, I forget how we are connected.

How we both miss him.

How things would have been.

And in other ways, I feel the pulling.

Especially now that I am getting married again.

With June fast approaching.

Family that barely says anything to me when I am in the room.

Family that visits Orlando without even a peep. 

Family who will not even consider coming to my wedding to Mr. X.

So Gizmo's health this holiday season dictated that we would not go to Miami for Christmas.

We fear the stress of leaving her may hurt her kidneys more.

And I can almost feel the relief of some.

To know the Gringa will not be there.

Do they think I do not think of Roger daily?

That I have forgotten?

That because I am getting married I am over it all?

That I did not love him?

That I do not love him still?

That I cannot talk of Roger?

That they cannot talk of Roger?

Sigh... 

What would Roger think of you all now?   

Our Song

I was about to get out of the car.

The door already open.

I was about to enter the overly commercialized world of Christmas.

Then there it was.

Our song.

"Chasing Cars" by Snow Patrol.

So I stopped.

I closed the door.

Closed my eyes.

And sat.

Our memories floated through my mind.

Your last birthday.

Your last birthday cake.

Our non-date at Pleasure Island.

One of our first real dates at Bahama Breeze.

Our trip to NYC.

Our wedding day.

Our first dance.

Your last breaths.

Your excitement.

Your laugh.

Your patience. 

Your smile.

The song ended.

I wiped the tears from face.

Exited the car.

And entered back into the world.

My Gizmo

Gizmo.

Oh my Gizmo.

In the last few weeks, she had been super vocal.

Coming to the bedroom door in the early morning and begging to be let in.

Neither cat has done this in years.

Gizmo started following me absolutely everywhere. 

She wanted to be next to me all the time.

I knew something was wrong.

But I didn't want to know.

Not now.

Not as the one year mark of my dad's death approaches.

Not near Christmas.

Not ever.

But my poor Gizmo may have some kidney issues.

We must give her IV fluids for the weekend.

Then we will go back to the vet on Monday.

My cats have been with me through so much.

I do not even want to imagine my life without them.

Please be okay my Gizmo.

Please.

Maybe...

Maybe it is the time of year.
All the holidays and memories.
Or lack there of.

Maybe it is the fact I drove to Miami.
By myself.

Maybe it is job stress.
Friend stress.
Wedding stress.
Second job stress.

But you have been on my mind.
I love looking at old pictures of you.
The ones of you before I met you.
Of you as a child.

Driving to work this week, I had disbelief battles again.
You didn't really die.
Just can't be real.
I saw you die but it just cannot have happened.
To you.
To me.
To us.
To everything.

I so miss you.
I wish I could talk to you.
I wish I could hear your voice.