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It’s time

There is a chance

The boy was at my mother-in-law’s for the 4th of July. As I said in the last entry, my 4th was awful. That’s because I spent it cleaning out Alison’s closet and wardrobe.

You see, I finally got some sleep the other day and I woke up knowing I had to do it.

When my dad died, my mom, to her credit, spent a solid month cleaning out alla his stuff. Everything.

Like I said, women are simply emotionally stronger than most men.

But I let Alison’s closet and wardrobe sit there.

Man, Alison was a wiz at maximizing space; everything was jam-packed but perfectly organized.

The past two years, I cleaned things here and there but never really did what my mom did and just cleaned it out.

Mentioned alla this to my MIL when I saw her. She always says the right thing.

Her: I’m glad. Save a few special things, and then put everything else into two garbage bags and donate it. Alison would have wanted you to do that.
Me: I know. If the roles were reversed, I’d want her to do it too.
Her:  Yes. (gently) Clean out her things, Logan. It’s time.
Me: (nodding)

It was excruciating. However bad you think it was, it was worse.

Ended up dropping off seven bags worth of things at the local Goodwill. Screamed at no one about that many times.

Took until after midnight but once it was all done, I felt different. Better.

There’s never any closure but I think all the reminders of her everywhere added to my underlying sadness and complicated things.

I also put away her pictures, although they’re still out in the boy’s room, where they should be.

It’s a start.

Him: People got to know you through your blog, and her as well. It’s clear to everyone that you loved her and always will love her. Some of what you wrote was like poetry. (thinking) But I’m glad you talked to your MIL. She’s the only person that can give you any real advice.
Me: Yeah. (thinking) It’s like a million years ago and like yesterday.
Him: (nodding) It’s good. You did the right thing (cleaning out Alison’s closet).

I saw Mouse briefly the other day when some friends got together for AYCE Korean food and some axe throwing.

She’s quite good at it. Wanted to tell her about the closet and wardrobe but it didn’t feel right.

Afterward, she and I decided to get some dessert and coffee together.

There was so much I wanted to say to her, but she handed me one of her headphone earbuds and we just listened to music on the ride over.

Dunno what the future holds for us, if anything, but I’d be lying if I said wasn’t happy to see her.

Me: It’s no excuse, but you met me at a weird and awful time in my life. 
Her: I know, Logan. But… (shakes head)
Me: No chance at all?
Her: (laughing) Like a moonshot chance.
Me: I’ll take that. (later) So, there is a chance.

Suppose you’ll have to read her blog to find details, if any. After all, it’s how I get most of my info about her these days.

Speaking of music, my brother sent me some song suggestions the other day, before I wrote my last entry.

Interestingly, one of the songs he said I should listen to was Be the One by Dua Lipa, and the lyrics actually work well with the story about The Taming of the Shrew, which I found interesting.

Maybe that’s just me.

Location: an emptier home
Mood: hopeful
Music: just another chance

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Whatever you need it to be

..it is. It’s the moon, then

Hope you had a good 4th of July.

I didn’t really. Probably one of the worst I ever had, mainly because I did a buncha things I’d been putting off for…years, really.

But around 8PM, I started feeling much better and thinking a lot clearer than I have in a while, for reasons we’ll get into a bit later, I suppose.

Billy Shakespeare wrote this play called The Taming of the Shrew* where this fella named Pete says, “Good Lord, how bright and goodly shines the moon!”

The only problem is that it’s daytime and he’s talking about the sun (just to prove a point).

So his girl Kate says, “Dude, it’s daytime. That’s the sun.”

Pete: I say it is the moon that shines so bright.
Kate: I know it is the sun that shines so bright.
Buddy: (to Kate) Just say it’s the moon or we’ll never get outta here.
Kate: (to Pete) Sun, moon, whatever. Whatever you say it is, it is.

See, Kate’s kinda a stubborn know-it-all, whereas Pete just wants them to have a happy relationship.

So Pete decides to test Kate by saying something demonstrably false, and Kate, to her credit, realizes that it doesn’t matter who’s wrong or right, as long as they have each other. So she says, essentially, “Whatever. If it makes you happy, I’ll say it and we can just move on with our lives.”

Someone once told me that I always have to be right. I don’t agree with that statement 100% but I see what they mean.

After all, what are you winning in life if you’re losing the really important stuff?

*Yes, I’m aware of the potentially misogynistic overtones of the story. But I’ve always liked this scene, where someone gives in because they know a happy relationship’s worth more. I get that. Here’s a slightly more modern – and reversed – take on the scene.

Location: surrounded by clothes, boxes, bags, and memories
Mood: rested
Music: right now there’s a war between the vanities

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I’m kind of a late…

What’s so funny?

Been catching up with lotsa people from various walks of life, including RE Mike.

Before I knew it, I’m on a subway heading downtown…

… and on some billionheiress’s  private guest list (for serious).

Me: Hi, I’m Logan. I’m kind of a late addi…
Greeter: Logan Lo?
Me: Uh, yeah!
Her: (laughing) I just added you. You don’t need to wait in line. 66th Floor. (puts a red ribbon around my wrist) Have fun.

RE Mike was, and will always be, amazing.

Anywho, the party was pretty nuts. That’s all I’ll say on the matter.

Mainly cause I got pics…

Me: Hi, I need a photographer for the evening. You game?
Girl1: (laughing) Sure!

Fella1: What I really need is a copyright lawyer.
Me: Oh man, are you in luck…

Me: Well, now that’s something you don’t see every day.

Girl3: Wait, you’re leaving?! So early?
Me: Yeah. I gotta see about a girl. Nice meeting you.

Me: (walking in late) Hey. (laughs)
Her: (laughs) What’s so funny?
Me: You tell me.
Her: (later) I kept hoping it was you.

Location: the 66th floor in the pics above
Mood: ready to suffer and ready to hope
Music: I’ve been a fool and I’ve been blind

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Love: Early and Often

Father’s Day 2019

There’s a lot going on again that I gotta sort out. Trying to organize it so it’ll make sense to you…and me, I suppose.

The main thing from last week was that my son graduated from pre-3K. My mother-in-law was there and I was glad she got a chance to see his school.

MIL: You know, I went to Catholic school for years. This reminds me of things.
Me: Everything reminds me of things.

It was Father’s Day yesterday. I spent a good part of it with Mouse.

Because that’s what she does: She shows up when she knows I’m on my knees. She sits with me and tells me that it’ll be ok. Even when we both know it won’t be.

I love her. Dunno if I ever told you that.

Do though. Suppose I have for a long time. Maybe it was obvious to you. Everything is obvious once you accept the answer

See, I accepted it too late. Told her even later.

It’s one of my ten thousand regrets.

Even though I didn’t wanna, thought about my dad a lot over the weekend. A man’s dying, and all…

That’s kinda what I said to my MIL when she was here: I try not to think of Alison and my dad.

Because it’s painful. It’ll always be painful, I suppose.

Lemme tell you this one story: When I was 32, I stayed over at my parents house in my childhood room because I had an appointment in the area.

Everyone had left by the time I woke up so I got dressed in my room and walked out the door to go upstairs. There, I saw something strange on the steps.

It was two hard boiled eggs that my dad made me for brekkie. And he wrote on them: “Good Morning” and “I love you.” I remember laughing and thinking I had to take a picture of it.

I’m so glad I did.

The running joke is that Asian/Chinese parents are not effusive. A college roommate told me that his father never told him that he loved him.

Him: I have no idea what it’s like, to have a father that says that.
Me: I’m sorry. I have no idea what it’s like to have a father that doesn’t.

But that was my dad. He loved me, my siblings, and my mother. And he wasn’t shy about telling us.

Hoo-boy, that man embarrassed me more times than I can count. And I’ll probably embarrass my son.

Because when you love someone, you should tell them that you do, early and often. See above.

Anywho, I try not to think about my dad because I loved him so and the weight of my grief equals the weight of my love.

Which is a shit-ton.

God, I miss all these people I love so.
But there’s no place for the love to go.

Location: home, in front of several glasses of rum
Mood: heartbroken
Music: I keep on wantin’ more of you and me

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Just money, just allergies

Losing, Winning, Living

Him: Maybe she’ll come for dinner?
Me: No. She’s still on her adventure.
Him: What’s an adventure?
Me: It’s…it’s an exciting trip. (hesitating) Is…is that ok? If it’s just papa?
Him: (nodding) I want ham.
Me (relieved) You got it, man.
Him: I’m not a man, I’m a boy!
Me: Yes. (laughing) You’re my boy.

If only all these things were this easy to solve.

He’s graduating from pre3K this week. Like everything that should be a good memory, this one is bittersweet. It seems like we just started school.

I couldn’t sleep the other night because I knew that most of the other kids would have both parents there and he would look out and just see me.

Was going to call up the ABFF, or my sister, or even one of his sitters to come but, thankfully, Alison’s mom can make it. It’s a small thing but I slept like a log the day she told me she’d make it.

The thought of him just seeing me in the audience bummed me out no end.

Mother-in-law: Can I stay over the night before?
Me: God, no….joking! You’re always welcome here.

Should mention that I’m 100% confident that if I called Mouse and told her it was his graduation, she would come. Full stop. Cause she would do anything for him. But everything’s complicated enough as it is.

In any case, there’s so much guilt involved in parenting. Suppose it’s like a poor parent that looks at wealthier parents and feeling a niggling bit of jealousy and longing.

Except it’s not money. If only it were just money.

My dad once said to me that, if a problem can be solved by money, it’s not that big a problem. But when you have problems that can’t be solved by money, it’s a real problem.

But the boy doesn’t seem to notice, which is a small blessing, I suppose.

Another parent: Hi. I’ve been meaning to tell you that your son must be the happiest boy I’ve ever seen.
Me: Gotta say, that means more to me than you might imagine.
Her: Oh…well, it’s true. You and your wife are doing something right. (pause) Are you…
Me: Sorry, just…allergies. (clearing throat) Thanks. That means a lot.

I’ve got a lot going on but I’m trying to sort through it all so it’ll make sense to you. Cause not a lotta it makes sense to me.

And it’s Father’s Day in a week.

Me: Oh, I’ll make you a croque monsieur!
Him: No! Ham!
Me: But a croque monsieur is…you know what? Nevermind. Let’s get you some ham, ok? We’ll go to the market together. (gets keys)
Him: OK! (sings)

Location: home
Mood: allergies. Lotsa allergies
Music: I’ll go if you go, if you’re cool with that

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She’s on an adventure

Where I’m supposed to be

The boy: Papa!!
Me: (grabbing him) There’s my little guy! How are you? Did you miss papa?
Him: (laughs, shakes head) Nooooooooooooo…
Me: (feigning pain, shaking head) Hurtful.  Hurtful.  (brightening) Well, I missed you.
Him: Where’s Mouse?
Me: She’s…she’s on an adventure!
Him: In Brooklyn?
Me: (nodding) Yes! In Brooklyn.
Him: When she gonna be back?
Me: (frowning) Oh, I don’t know. She might be gone for a while. Adventures sometimes take a long time.
Him: Oh. (frowning) I miss her.
Me: Of course, I do too. And, I know for a fact that she misses you. She’s definitely going to see you again, don’t you worry.
Him Good! I love her like a…toothbrush!
Me: (laughing) I’m gonna take that as a compliment to her and tell you that I know that she loves you like TWO toothbrushes.
Him: That’s silly! (thinking, quiet) Papa, will you go on an adventure too?
Me: (imitating him, shakes head) Nooooooooooooo… I belong with you.
Him: (laughs, sings loudly) ♪♫♬I belong to you, you belong to me, you’re my sweetheart…♪♫♬
Me: (nodding) Always, boy. (hugging him) Always.

Location: home, where I’m supposed to be
Mood: convinced
Music: think of what it might have been

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It all fades to black, Pt 2

Even though I knew

It all fell apart, two years ago today. I remember writing this, hoping for a miracle that never came.

I was alone but heard a female yell out my name in my apartment the other day.

I ran out of my room and yelled, “Alison?” even though I knew she was gone.

I don’t believe in ghosts or anything like that. I do believe in auditory hallucinations caused by insomnia and copious amounts of self-medication. Yet, it seemed so real.

This is my life these days. Most days are ok. Some actually good, like when the boy and Mouse are here. Some are bad. Some are horrible.

This was a horrible day. I screamed in my blue bathroom, like I always do.

I have no plans to hurt myself. Instead, I plan on just going on a massive bender; apologies to my liver and those that will be running into me this weekend.

Still…I’m tired. I’d like to rest.

But, I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.

The boy: Why do you (imitates a sighing sound)?
Me: I’m sorry. Papa’s just tired.
Him: You need to rest.
Me: (nodding) I will. One day, I’ll rest. But not for a while, ok?
Him: Ok! (looking at me) Are you sad?
Me: (smiles) What do I have to be sad about? I have you. That’s silly.
Him: (laughs) That’s silly. Silly, papa.
Me: (nods, turns away)

Stop all the clocks,
Cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with the juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and, with muffled drum,
Bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky, the message: “He is dead!”
Put crepe bows around the white necks of the public doves.
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my north, my south, my east and west,
My working week and Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song.
I thought that love would last forever; I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one.
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Location: the bottom of my staircase and of a bottle of rum
Mood: hollowed-out
Music: Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst
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It all fades to black, Pt 1

All the bonuses you didn’t want

 

Friday will be exactly two years since Alison left.  It’s hard for me to comprehend. She’s forever young.

No one wants to be forever young this way.

In those two years, I’ve dreamt of Alison exactly once. It was a late last year and I wanted to keep it to myself and tell you when the time was right. Suppose that’s today.

I dreamt that it was this day. and I was here/here, which is Bethesda Fountain in Central Park.

In the dream – and in real life – we were running late to a wedding. She told me to hurry up and walked down the steps leading to Bethesda Fountain and I ran after her.

She turned to smile at me one last time before disappearing around a bend. Stuck behind a crowd, I ran after her but she was gone.

I ran down the stairs and looked for her, then up again, then back down again. I never saw her again.

Then I woke up and plead to a god I don’t believe in to let me go back.

And I got the same fucking answer I always do.

It’s the same answer everyone gets.

People don’t seem to get it.

It wasn’t just Alison that died that day; my family died that day. All the hopes and dreams she and I talked about for so long, died that day. Everything we thought would be, died that day.

All our big dreams and little dreams died with her.

You know, something she talked about all the time when she was pregnant was how excited she was to push a stroller and hold a goddamn cup of coffee in the Upper West Side. She never got the chance.

How fucked up is that?

Losing alla that’s just bonus you get for free with the death of someone you love. It’s all bonus for shit you didn’t want in the first place.

Almost everything you ever loved dies all-at-fucking once.

Just like that. Poof. It all fades to black.

Location: hell again
Mood: hollowed-out
Music: So many dreams swinging out of the blue. Oh, let it come true
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The Superpower

Taking Mice for Granted

This woman named Jo Cameron was born with two genetic mutations:

      1. A different FAAH gene, which reduces her ability to feel pain, both physical and emotional;
      2. A defective FAAH-OUT gene, whose sole purpose is to activate the FAAH gene.

Essentially, she feels no pain, no anxiety. She cannot suffer. She broke her arm when she was eight years old and only went to the doctor three days later because her arm looked funny. When she gave birth, it tickled her.

She’s a mutant with a superpower.

When I was a kid, outta all the superpowers, the one I wanted the most was the ability to become invisible. I think most bullied kids would welcome the ability to disappear and not be noticed.

But, after these past few years – barring time travel and/or the ability to detect and destroy cancer – I think that the superpower I’d like the most is Jo’s power.

Because, man, do I get people being hooked on painkillers.

This week/month has been a rollercoaster of emotional pain. Both from Alison and the Gymgirl. The kind where I’m sitting down on my shower floor hyperventilating.

I actually do have to take painkillers to manage it. That’s how severe it’s been. The insomnia’s back too, because, of course it’s back…

I’d like to tell you more about the Gymgirl but now’s not really the right time.

I will say that she floored me the other night because we hadn’t spoken for a while. And when we did, she said I took her for granted. That’s the last thing I would do.

Then again, I’ve always said that communication is what the other side hears, not what you say.

It’s my fault if she somehow heard that she wasn’t that important.

Her: (dismissively) I’m just a placeholder in your life.
Me:  (shaking head) That’s precisely the opposite of what you are. You’re not even a front-runner; you’re the only game in town.

That placeholder bit kept me up all night because it’s so far left field. I didn’t really fully appreciate the depth of what she was saying until I was alone in bed.

The worst things creep into my head in the middle of the night because it’s when the world and my thoughts quiet down. And I start to understand things.

I’m trying to wrap my head around everything but, FWIW, I was trying to do the right thing by her but it turned out that I did exactly the opposite of what she wanted me to do.

To top it all off, afterward, I behaved in a way that I’m not proud of and I’m disappointed in myself. It was rough all around.

I should remember that this never happens when I drink rum. But that’s neither here nor there.

There’s more, but that’s all I wanted to say for now.

That, and, should she and I exit each other’s Venn Diagram, you can still keep up with her wit and charm by following her blog: Melee Mouse/Mouse in the City.

Me: Hurry up, we’re gonna be late!
Mouse: We? You’re gonna be late. I’m gonna be a pleasant surprise.

She was my pleasant surprise in all this shit. I thought she knew.

On that note, I’m just going to call her Mouse here from this point forward, for however long that is.

Because the only reason I used Gymgirl instead of Mouse, which is what everyone calls her, was because of our inappropriately possessive ex-coach and his insane jealousy, which is a whole ‘nother story for another time.

Location: home
Mood: uncertain
Music: Oh, I guess I should have told her; I thought she knew

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Hitting the button

©Lauren Herschel
©Lauren Herschel

Closure is a myth

Was planning on just going on a bender this past weekend because the kid was supposed to go with ABFF to NJ for a cancer walk. Unfortunately/fortunately, he got sick.

The Gymgirl’s upset with me for reasons I don’t fully understand.

But I will say that, after not speaking for a week or two, I asked her to watch him because there was something I had to do on Saturday morning (which I’ll tell you about some other time).

She came, no questions asked, and left as soon as I was back. She even made coffee and brought me some rum. And wrote a lovely note to me, the kid, and Alison, to boot.

Like I said, a boy could fall for a girl like that.

Some friends came by later on that night, I think they were worried about my being alone.

Him: What do you have to drink?
Me: Rum. And cinnamon whiskey.
Him: (groans) So, what’s going on with you and the Gymgirl?
Me: I’m not sure.
Him: You should try to work it out.
Me: (laughing) You just like her, which makes sense. But she’ll make her decisions and I’ll respect them.

Drinks at The Aviary in NYC

Her: So, how was your Mother’s Day?

People keep asking me how I was this past weekend, so lemme start by telling you that – over the past two years – I’ve met a number of people that make offhanded comments about my needing closure from what happened.

Sociologist Nancy Berns wrote a book on it and said, “It’s not the dominant narrative in research in bereavement, but it is in popular culture. Those who are working with people who are grieving tend to be less likely to use the concept.”

In other words, “closure” is a word used by those that never dealt with true grief.

I met a lot of people the past couple of years that characterized Alison and my father’s death almost like a high school breakup, where one needs closure to be alright.

You’re never alright watching the people you love adore die. There’s no closure, no peace.

Robin Williams said, in Good Will Hunting, You don’t know about real loss, ’cause it only occurs when you’ve loved something more than you love yourself.

I remember wanting to grab this person and telling her:

It’s not like when Jimmy broke up with you in eighth grade, Cathy. Why don’t you watch two people you love more than yourself suffer and die slowly – for years – and then talk to me about what I need?

On the flipside, my brother sent me what may be the best explanation of grief I’ve ever read/heard from a blogger named Lauren Herschel, who was, in turn, quoting her psychiatrist.

She said that grief is like having a box with a pain button on the inside and a large ball in that box. In the beginning, every movement causes the ball to hit the button and course pain throughout your body.

I thought I’d share the Ball in the Box analogy my Dr told me pic.twitter.com/YfFT26ffU8

Over time, the ball gets smaller and still bounces around inside the box; it hits the button less, but when it does, the pain is just as crippling as ever.

That’s the truest description of pain/loss/grief I’ve ever read, versus closure, which is teenage angst horseshit.

I’m fine most of the time and most days. But, when I’m alone in my apartment, I’ll just randomly scream. Legit, scream.

My neighbors must think I’m a madman.

But that’s what happens when the grief button is hit. You fall to your knees and you scream.

I’m on my knees less these days. But it’ll never fully goes away.

Anyway, my Sunday was spent drinking, hitting that goddamn button, and screaming.

So, that’s how my Sunday was.

Me: (shrugging) Oh, you know, the usual…

Location: the gym, trying to sober up
Mood: hell
Music: I can never get over the love
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