Sex...

I miss it. Not just the act but the connection. I crave affection like chocolate chip cookies and it’s killing me. Months before meeting Rob I had finally come to the conclusion that I had been going about things the wrong way. I now wanted that part of my life shared with a very special person. It wasn’t long after having those thoughts that I met Rob. I kept trying to put into words what all this meant to me. I tried to communicate to him everything I felt and how grateful I was to have him in my life and to be a part of his. I tried to wrap my mind around how this connection was so intense and the most special thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I did the only thing I really knew how to do and wrote him a letter one Monday morning. It was a story really, recounting the events of the previous weekend. I mailed it that afternoon. Three days later…
“I got your letter today.” Rob tells me over the phone.
“You did?” I smile. I had been anticipating it’s reception and his reaction.
“I really hope this is just you being you and you’re not doing it for me.”
I just laugh. Really, it’s both. I want to please him plus I’m working out what’s in my head, thinking that if I write I’ll understand it better.
“You write very well. It’s the best stuff I’ve ever read. You’ve captured the mood and the setting perfectly. You could sell this stuff!” he exclaims.
I laugh. “It’s for you dear, not the world.”
“I know, but I’m hanging on to them so you can eventually publish them!”
His positive response only encouraged me to write more. Sometimes he’d critique my words, or ask questions and other times he’d just smile and say thank you.
The letters are in my possession now. I’ve reread a few but it’s as if I don’t absorb the words, still not sure if I want to leave my comfortable denial that there won’t be anymore stories to write and mail.
How do I explain what it feels like to be loved so much it was beyond comprehension? How do I put into words what it felt like to be held as if you’re the most delicate piece of glass ever to be touched, or to feel like the most beautiful creature that ever existed and then to have it taken away in the blink of an eye?
I can’t look into his eyes anymore and feel my entire being melt, I can’t touch his face or kiss his forehead. I can’t warm my feet on his legs, I can’t feel his mouth on mine, I can’t feel my chest pressed against his back, I can’t feel the weight of his body, or hear him breathing. I can’t stop crying.

Love Love Love...

Tiny drops of water drip from my hair and land on my bare shoulders as I stand in front of my open closet, staring at it’s contents. I’ve wrapped a towel tightly around my bare torso as if I’m expecting my insides to spill out of me. There are so many options. My hands reach out to investigate the various dresses that line the inside of the closet, stopping on one in particular. It’s the dress I wore Easter Sunday. My fingers slide down the length of it and think about that day.
“Daddy. I like this boy.” I whispered to my father, watching Rob talk to my cousin across the room. We’re at my grandmother’s waiting to eat lunch after church. My dad and I leaning against the counter.
“Yeah? He’s got really good manners.” Dad nods.
“I know! It’s amazing…” I grin.
“You two seem very comfortable together.” My mom tells me later on. “I like his voice. It’s very calming.”
“It is!” I laugh, thinking I was the only one who noticed that.
Later that evening Rob and I are eating sushi. Besides one other couple we’re the only people there and it’s perfect. I’m grinning at him from across the table, sake removing my usual word filter.
“What?” he smiled.
“Nothing.” I giggled, raising the glass to my lips again. He looks at me as if he doesn’t believe me.
“It’s something.” he says.
“I just want to tell you…” I’m having a hard time forming the words. I know what I want to say, I’m just afraid of his reaction. “…that I’m falling in love with you.” There. I said it.
A smile slowly spreads across his face.
My fingers trace another dress and the memory leaves me. I quickly decide on jeans and a jacket and leave it at that. I straighten my hair, put on enough make up to appear human and walk out the door.
“I didn’t know you were a compulsive overeater!” Kristen exclaims after I settle into the break room with her, waiting on my first client.
“I thought I told you that. Did you read my blog?”
“Yup. I always read them.”
“Really!” I light up.
“Of course. Lots of people do.”
“Really?!” This makes my entire day.
She smiles and nods.
“Everybody has something.” she states, going back to my eating disorder. She’s right. Everyone has their own issues or behaviors that they aren’t necessarily proud of. It makes things more colorful.
I nod. “I have a confession.” I tell her but I’m looking at the wall, not blinking. She waits for me to speak.
Kristen has always been one of those people I can open up to without fear. She’s an esthetician and I was her client well before I started working at Salonred. There is something very special about her that I can’t quite put my finger on but she’s always been there for me, saying the perfect thing at the perfect time.
“Food has been ok. I just feel myself using something else and I’m scared of it.”
“Well.” she begins. “At least you can see what’s going on. It’s all a distraction. You just went through something really traumatic and your brain is trying to regroup.”
I am in denial that this experience is as intense as it is. I am arrogant in the fact that I think I can do this on my own. I hear what she’s saying and I understand it, it’s just not quite sinking in as far as it needs to go. Which of course makes me wonder if I’m still in shock and the real storm hasn’t yet washed over me.
“Lots of things can happen. Sometimes you need to explore the negative to get the reinforcement that you need to follow the path that’s positive and stay on it.”
I nod.
“You’ve done a really positive thing by writing. It’s so amazing how you’ve opened up to the world like you have. I know Rob is right there with you reading every word and he’s so proud. He’s so proud of you.”
Before either of know it we’re both crying. I’m the luckiest person on this planet to know such special people. Kristen’s client arrives the same time mine is ready from color and we’re both trying to get composed. When I’ve taken all the deep breaths I can take I go out to see Traci. I love her and I’ve missed her tremendously, I’m just out of energy. ‘For forty five minutes.’ I remind myself. ‘All I have to do is focus for forty five minutes, until the next forty five minutes.’
As I section and cut her hair, I hear her words and even find myself laughing with her but I don’t know why I’m laughing and my eyes are flooded again with tears. Where is this coming from? How is it that I’m laughing and crying at the same time when I don’t even know why either are happening? I hear my voice ask her questions but I don’t know where the words are coming from. It’s all a dream.
After lunch Sarah and I are walking back to the salon after getting coffee.
“So what’s going on with Chicago?” she asks.
“I don’t know yet. I can’t think about it.”
“Are you just letting life lead you?”
“Yes! That’s exactly right! How come people can’t get that? All my plans have fallen away and I’m just trying to calm down and see what happens.”
“Sometimes, you just have to do that. Stop making plans and just see where things go.” she replies.
I am so grateful that someone understands without me having to spell it out.
My next client brings up my ‘vacation.’ She was trying to get in last week.
“Did you go somewhere fun?” she asks.
“I stayed here.” I replied, wondering if I could get out of telling the story of why I was out.
“Oh…”
I change the subject asking about her Memorial Day.
“How’s your boyfriend doing?” Another client asks.
“Um…” I tell the story again, then absorbing all the “Melissa, I’m so sorry’s.” I don’t know what to say but thank you. I can barely open and close the blades of my shears I’m so overwhelmed.
“So how’s your engineer?” One of my long time clients asks later in the afternoon.
“Uh… well…” I stammer. Somebody please do this for me!!!
“Uh oh. What happened? He asks in a tone that insinuates Rob and I broke up.
“Rob was killed in an accident last month.” I blurt out.“What?!” he exclaims.
I nod. My skin begins to heat up and my head is swimming. Everything is spinning and I stop cutting. I can’t look at him, I can’t keep cutting, and I can’t breathe.
“What happened?”
I inhale and tell him in a very matter of fact manner what happened. It’s as if I turn into something else entirely when explaining the details.
“I’m so sorry. That’s awful.” he says. Over and over he says it. “You must still be in shock.”
“I guess.” I feel the heat under my skin disappear and I begin cutting again.
“I’m just so sorry.”
“Thank you.” I finish his hair in record time and disappear into the break room.
I have to explain the story one more time after him to my second to last client. She reminds me to take care of myself.
“Take all the time you need honey. Do whatever you need to do for yourself.”
“I was thinking about that today.” I smile at her. “A lot of people have told me that, and I feel like I am. Why can’t we do that all the time? Why can’t we always do what we need to do for ourselves all the time?”
“That’s a good question. I guess as women we’re always trying to please everyone and do whatever everyone else wants.”
“I agree.” I decide that from this moment on, I’ll continue to do things for myself and if other folks don’t like it, it’s not my problem. I am not responsible for anyone but myself.
My day ends and I’m full of nervous energy. When I get home I tear off my work clothes and quickly pull on my running gear and fly out the door, up Drewry and onto N. Highland. In no time I’m crossing Ponce and North Ave. My legs stretch further, going faster and faster until my lungs can’t keep up. Maybe if I go fast enough I’ll escape my own head. I make it to I-75 and turn around racing back home, never slowing down. Can someone please explain it to me? What is happening? Who the hell am I and where am I going?

Sleepy...

I woke up this morning after only a few hours of sleep. I had to meet Amy for coffee in midtown. I barely know my name right now, but I feel strangely grounded. It’s as if while I slept I went somewhere else entirely, got something I needed and I’m still holding on to it’s peaceful implication.
I hang on to and examine this feeling as I drive to meet Amy. It’s an interesting blessing, I finally decide, that I can’t put into words. A gift that was given to me but I can’t reciprocate it necessarily. I’m not entirely sure of where it came from but I’m grateful.
Amy and I have a blast talking despite my delirium. She just listens to me without offering much feedback unless I ask. It’s all I really need. I get mad and shut down when someone tries to steer me in a direction I don’t want to go in. It used to be that I’d put up with it, but now, I’m quick to defend my own thoughts and decisions and to change the subject if need be.
When we leave the coffee shop I drive home to get my computer and set out again. I loathe holidays that fall on Mondays. It screws up my usual routine. I find myself going to my favorite coffee shops, prepared to write and seeing there aren’t any tables available. I get back in the car and start driving, unsure of where it is I’m going but I end up on the interstate. I travel up I-85 and merge onto GA400. I’m headed for Buckhead. I hate Buckhead. Why am I going up there? I get off at the exit that will take me to Lenox and remember there’s a Borders on Peachtree. Perfect! I park and go in. It’s not busy and feels like Antarctica. I drink my second latte of the day, trying to clear the fog in my head.
This latte does nothing for me but speed my heart up, leaving my brain behind. I’m still staring listlessly at a blank page on the computer screen. Alright. Maybe it’s just not going to happen today. I can’t make sense of anything so I shut the computer down and wander around the store. I’m still indecisive on where to go and what to do so I head back to the interstate and stay on it until I get to my parent’s house.
It‘s my Dad‘s birthday. He and I are sitting outside listening to the frogs chirp. We have random conversations about World War II, and what we’re going to do in D.C. this Saturday. This reminds me of a time spent with him when I was much younger, talking outside about stars and how each of us agreed that science was our favorite subject. Although time has faded the memory, it’s still one of my favorites.
Mom and I talk for a little while after dinner. She asks how I am. I’m still fucked up but she doesn’t like that word so I sit there for a moment.
“I don’t know.” I finally say.
“You know how you feel.”
Don’t tell me what I know and don’t know. I don’t say anything else.
People ask all the time to tell them what I need. It’s taken me a while to figure out what that is. What exactly is it that I need? What I’ve come up with so far is that I need people to listen, to hold my hand and to understand that I don‘t know where I‘m headed right now and I‘m ok with that. Please don’t rush me. I’m trying to figure it out. I can‘t think about Chicago. I have no answers. I haven’t forgotten about it but uprooting my whole life is too much right now, and will not solve my problems. The city will still be there when I’m ready to finally go. I am capable of making a decision, although it may take me a while to do so. When I’m incapable I’ll let you know.
I ask for patience with my erratic behavior and forgiveness for not responding at times. I haven’t forgotten anyone but I feel I’m in a constant state of ‘overwhelmed’. I promise I’ll come around. Please don’t pull me too hard out the hole I’ve dug myself into. I’m still examining what’s down here. If I’m pulled too hard my arms might break and then I won’t be able to climb out.
I am learning to stand on my own two feet and I see where I have to go but sometimes I have to stop, sit, and rest for a while because the road I’m on is long, unpredictable and I’m worn out.
The sun is setting and I need to go before it gets dark and I fall asleep while driving. I say goodbye to my parents and get into my car. As I approach I-75 I roll my windows down, turn my music up and enjoy the ride home.

Heart Shaped Cloud...

My alarm wakes me up at 5:45am. I scarf down some breakfast, get dressed and put on my new running shoes. I smile and think of Rob when I notice half the shoe is favorite color, dark blue.
I get into my car and drive down the road to Kat’s condo. I know that from her place to the GA Power building downtown and back is eight miles. I decide to push myself and see if I could do it twice, totaling sixteen miles. I’ve never gone that far in my life. I bring my phone just incase I need emergency assistance.
I do make it though! All sixteen miles! During that time I had my iPOD in and Snoop Dogg, Lil Wayne and Khia were singing to me, making me laugh thinking about Rob and me driving out I-20 to his parent’s singing along with his iPOD.
“I can’t believe you know all the words to these songs!” Rob exclaimed.
No one expects a lil Georgia girl to know all the words to Khia’s ‘My Neck, My Back’, but that’s part of the fun.
“I know all the songs you’ve played so far!” I laugh.
“I’m glad we have nothing in common.” he teased.
“Yeah, I don’t even know why you’re still with me.”
He hold his hand out for me to place mine in it. I do and smile.
“You’re amazing.” he tells me.
“You are!”
Also during my time spent running this morning, I contemplated suicide from the pain in my feet and I think at some point my hips went numb. We won’t even talk about the knees. When I finished and returned to my car my hair resembled that of Mufasa’s and my skin was covered in a light film of dirt. I was meeting my homo life mate Rio at Starbucks in midtown with no time to clean up. Delicious.
I got there first and when he arrived he hugged me hard.
“Hi!”
“Hey.” I feel really quiet all the sudden.
“I’m gonna get coffee, hang on.” he turns and walks to the counter as I sit back down. When he returns he asks “How are you?”
“I don’t have an answer for that.”
He nods.
I want to talk. I do, I just don’t know where to start. I also don’t have the energy so I listen instead.
“What are you doing about Chicago?” he asks.
I don’t know. I thought I had everything in place. I did actually. Set to go in August.
“I have no idea. I haven’t called them yet.”
“It might do you a world of good to leave right now.” he reminds me.
“It might but I don’t think so. I’m content right where I’m at right now. That job will kick my ass without all this with Rob going on and I know it. I have to be able to give them 100% or I’ll fall on my face.”
He nods.
We talk a little longer, get something to eat then I’m off to shower and start the rest of my day. Mom and dad come up to get mom’s car, I write at Java Vino for a little bit. I’m still having some trouble. I want to write. I do. I look forward to it but I can’t get comfortable. I can’t seem to get my head straight and organized. I knew damn well this would bring up all sorts of emotions, and I thought I was prepared for it but it’s harder than I thought. I feel guilty for not being able to sit still and focus. I keep getting lost. I know good and well that writing is process. Sometimes it all comes pouring out and sometimes I have to wring it out. Where is my patience?
I decide to leave Java Vino and go to San Francisco Coffee at Amsterdam and N. Highland. I haven’t been there since Rob died. It’s where I was when dad called to tell me about him.
I get settled with some coffee and my notebooks, trying yet again to get focused. I feel a little disturbed but manage to get to work. I notice my phone is lighting up under the fabric of my purse alerting me that I’ve missed a call. ‘How did that happen?’ I think to myself and pull it out. It’s Rob’s mom. I check the voicemail and go outside to call her back.
“Laura and I are going to the movies. We wanted to know if you wanted to come with us?” she asks.
“I’d love to but I’m meeting my friend Jeff for a belated birthday dinner.”
We stay on the phone a little longer and I find myself looking up at the sky. I do that a lot nowadays. There is a huge, fluffy white cloud in the shape of a heart hovering over me. I stare extra hard at it to make sure I’m seeing this correctly. Yup. It’s a heart. I don’t want to stop looking at it. Are you there honey?
“Alright Melissa, we’re thinking about you. Come see us anytime.” Judy tells me.
“Same here!”
I go back inside after we hang up and continue to write until it’s time to see Jeff. He’s asked me to drive out to Mableton where he and his roommate live. I enjoy the interstate for once, tuning the radio up loud and singing along, all the way to Jeff’s place.
“How are you?” he says when I step through his front door.
“I am… I’m happy to see you.”
He nods. “It’s good to see you too. Are you ready?”
“Yup.”
Dinner is delicious. It was good to sit and talk with him. I don’t see him often. For a few hours I had forgotten my grief.
“We have to do this again!” I exclaim. “Let’s not just talk about it but actually do it!”
“I know! We will.”
I get into my car and head back to Atlanta, this time with the windows down and the music up. I’m almost disappointed when I make it home thinking it should have taken longer.
Kat and Gordon return home shortly after me. Kat sits at the kitchen table with me while I write.
“I’m so proud of you for writing.” she smiles.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry….
“I’m tryin’.”
“I wish I could fix everything for you.”
“I wish you could too!” I laugh.
We decide to sit outside for a little bit. It’s well after midnight and I’m still wide awake and exhausted all at the same time. She and Gordon ordered pizza and when it arrives they go in to eat. I go back to the computer. Still awake…

Saturday...

I walk through the doors of Inman Perk at 7:15am. My head is still not grounded but drowning somewhere in outer space. When I order my soy latte the guy behind the counter says,
“So what is it that you do here every morning?”
I’m taken aback by this question. No one has ever asked me that before.
“Uh, I write.” I reply and take the change he’s handing me.
“Oh.” he nods.
I quickly smile, lower my eyes, and walk over to the table I sit at every morning and set up my computer. I’m terrified of anymore questions. I don’t want to explain what it is I’m writing about and why.
My car was returned to me yesterday afternoon. For the first time in five weeks I was able to say “I’m SO HAPPY!” It’s so pretty and it works! Kat drove me to pick it up. I brought along my Saving Abel CD I bought the day after Rob died to finally listen to it in the car. (Mom’s car doesn’t have a CD player) I remember Nathan’s words the day I bought the CD, telling me to “listen to it loud” when I told him I bought it. I did just that and enjoyed every minute. It kills me though that the memories I have of the CD are not from times I spent with Rob but are of the beginning of time without him.
It’s pouring rain as I sit in traffic waiting to get home. I’m terrified to actually drive because it’s been so long since I’ve had the car and I don’t want anything else to happen to it. I remember the last time it was in an accident. I was without it for four weeks. The day after I got it back a rock fell out of the sky and cracked the windshield.
Traffic crawls giving me time to think about the last time I was sitting in my driver’s seat.
I turn left onto Ponce de Leon from N. Highland and head towards Whole Foods to pick up some turkey for dinner. Rob just sent me a text message saying he’s crossed over the GA/SC border. Something in my head tells me to go home. I ignore this feeling, thinking that I’m just five minutes away from the store. I want to get this damn turkey. Still this feeling is insistent on telling me to turn down the next street and go home. Again, I am insistent on going to where I need to go.
A flash of blue races out in front of me, my head slams into the steering wheel as I simultaneously hear a loud crash and realize my car has plowed into another one. When I open my eyes, I can’t see. Everything is blurry. My glasses are in my lap. I reach down, pick them up and put them on my face. Get out. I’m not dead. I’m ok. Get out of the car, walk, speak, do something. I open the car door and step out. I survey the damage of my car and look over at the one who caused it. It’s totaled. There’s no fixing that. I want to throw up. My head hurts. I stumble over to the other car, trying to walk in a straight line. The driver is a young woman about my age and she’s not dead either. Ok. This is certainly inconvenient but can be fixed. She’s on the phone calling the police, her car is leaking all sorts of nastiness. When we each know the other one is ok, I call Rob.
“Hey honey.” my hands won’t stop shaking. “I’ve been in an accident.”
“What?! Are you ok?”
“Yeah, just really shaken up.”
“What happened?” he asks.
I briefly tell him and then say I have to let him go when I see the woman get out of her car, currently on the phone with the tow company now.
“I’ll call you back.” I tell Rob.
“Ok. You still want me to come down?”
“Of course! I need you.”
Everything got cleaned up and towed away. I walked home still trying not to throw up, still trying to figure out what I was going to do. I managed to call my insurance company, make dinner and be in one piece by the time Rob came over.
After we ate he took me to the tow place. I left my paycheck in my car. Each finger of my left hand was resting between each of his. We said nothing as he drove. I pressed the back of his hand to my stomach and thanked him for being here.
“Of course!” he replied.
“I wouldn’t want to be doing this with out you.” I smiled at him.
“I wouldn’t want you to!”
A horn beeps behind me to tell me to go. The light is green. I eventually make it home. I want to keep driving though. Stay in the car and drive until there’s no road left.
I stare at the clock. It’s 7:45am now. I pull up my email Inbox and open one sweet email after another, chewing on my face to keep from crying, but the tears silently spill down my face. The kind words people have offered are the only things that get me through each day. Simple things that are said like “I’m thinking about you.” fill me up with so much love I can hardly stand it.
This is supposed to get easier with time right? That’s what everyone says. How much time? When do I feel whole again? Why do people look at me like I’m crazy when I tell them I don’t know how I feel? Why is it expected that I return to life as it used to be when it’ll never be as it used to be?
I glance at the clock. It’s now 9:20am. I feel I haven’t done anything. There’s still so much left write. I need to get to work though. I pack everything up and head out. I can’t stop crying. I cry the whole way to the salon. I promise I’m trying to be normal. I’m trying to be excited to work. I remind myself that I love my job.
My first client is early and I feel caught off guard. I set up my station and walk to the break room where I silently hug Monique and cry into her hair. I can’t talk, can’t breathe. She offers to mark off my day. I shake my head.
“I have to be here. I really do want to see everyone, I’m just so messed up. I don’t know why it’s like this all the sudden.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
Me either and I don’t expect her to say anything.
“I know it’s hard to imagine but it does get better.” she tells me.
“I believe you, I just don’t see it yet.” I wipe my face.
She goes out to get her client and I follow her to get mine. It takes me a couple of hours to get ‘normal’ and talk to people like everything is all shiny and wonderful. I manage to tell a few of them what happened. I find that today, once I get started talking about it I’m divulging all sorts of information and being ok with it. When I’m holding a section of hair and the tears come I stop cutting, get a hold of myself and continue again. No one tells me to stop crying today. No one says anything ridiculous and I feel such amazing relief from sharing what’s been in my head.
When my work day ends I go buy another pair of running shoes. I took the long way to Lenox and the long way home, stopping by San Francisco coffee. I try hard to write. The music is awful, I can’t concentrate and I feel on edge without having Rob with me. He hasn’t been with me for five weeks now and I’m still not used to it. I decide the fastest way out of this uncomfortable feeling tonight will be to sleep.

Substance abuse...

Substance abuse…
It’s really late. I should be in bed, asleep but I can’t. My head is spinning and the tears won’t stop.
So I should tell you something that I normally don’t vocalize. For nearly 8 years now I’ve battled a compulsive eating disorder. I eat when I’m stressed, when I’m happy, when I’m sad, when I’m angry, when I’m bored… the list is endless. When it first started I would eat a little of this or a little of that every day just to “quiet my head”. Over time the amount of food increased dramatically to where I was stuck in the middle of full blown binges two to three times a week. I’ve eaten to the point to where my teeth hurt, to where my stomach aches so badly I have to sleep to forget about what I just did to myself.
I finally got to a point where I ‘hit bottom’ and found Overeaters Anonymous. Over time and through weekly meetings I’ve managed to complete a 12 Step program and have found a sponsor who keeps me accountable. The most sobering words I’ve ever said were “Hi. I’m Melissa and I’m a compulsive overeater.” I’m coming up on six months now with no binging.
I told Rob about this within three days of knowing him. I don’t know why I told him so soon. It usually takes me ages to open up about this and even then I won’t disclose everything. I guess I told him because it’s a huge part of my life. I finally accept that I have this problem and I need my significant other to accept it as well if we’re going to continue. And accept it he did. He understood completely without me having to explain every last detail. He just ’got’ it. I didn’t feel like such a freak show when telling him about going to meetings and writing my sponsor about what I eat every day. This came to me as such a relief that it helped me to share more of myself with him and vice versa. When things got hard he’d simply remind me, “I’m right here. I’m always here for you. You can come to me.”
It’s not like I didn’t believe him, it’s just that I didn’t see why he wanted to bother with me. I told him once, “I believe that you love me, I just don’t know why.” I hate I had those thoughts.
I tried to take care of myself when he was literally here with me. It was a constant battle. I felt safe with him but at the same time I could feel myself sliding back into old habits like cleaning my plate when we were out, forgetting to pay attention that my stomach said I was full 30 minutes ago. Alcohol was a problem. Drinking with food only made the eating worse. Sometimes I couldn’t talk about what was going on in my head so I’d write him. I’d mail the letters on occasion or just wait until I saw him to give them to him. He always just quietly read them and on most occasions, put them away. It’s all I ever needed. I didn’t expect him to fix it, just listen. Sometimes I’d have to remind him of that when he tried to offer feedback, telling him it’s not something he can change about me or fix. I just need to know he’s there.
Then he was gone. Instantly. For days following his death, I didn’t eat much or sleep. I was somehow reminded that I had to take care of myself. I can’t explain this feeling but it was intense and made me stand up open my eyes and put one foot in front of the other. It made me see that everything is to be done one step at a time. I could now understand what it meant to trust in something greater than myself. Everything I’ve ever learned in OA became very clear when Rob died. I could now see that the food (or whatever substance) will not ‘fix’ the current situation. It won’t bring him back. It won’t do anything but temporarily mask what’s really going on if I choose to go back down that road. I finally saw that I was looking for love the whole time I was eating my way into oblivion. I had found that love was finally able to receive it and in doing so the obsession with food fell away.
It’s not entirely gone though. It sometimes takes on the form of something else. With Rob being gone I feel I’m stumbling around in the dark pushing buttons trying to find a ‘fix’ that will fill the void from losing him. I give into things only to feel worse about it later. I clearly see that in doing this, I’m going down the wrong path. I clearly see that I’m only trying to fill this void and take my mind off losing him and in return I’m hurting myself so deeply that I’ll get sucked right back into the insanity of this ’disease’, this time though it won’t be food I’ll give into. I will then end up working twice as hard to dig myself out of the mess I’ve gotten into.
At the current moment I feel angry with myself for trying to control the situation instead of letting God handle it. Every time I become overly confident, thinking I can handle a sketchy situation I fail. The definition of crazy is to keep doing the same thing over and over expecting different results. This time instead of falling into a complete relapse I’m trying to understand that I am not perfect. I will make mistakes and I’ll have to move on from them and let them go. Until then, I’m gonna try and get some sleep.

Space case...

I sit at Inman Perk feeling the sun shining through the window, burning my back. I email my dad asking if he’d be interested in taking a day trip with me to Washington D.C. soon to look at a couple of museums. I’ve asked before and it’s something we’ve entertained the idea of but haven’t done yet. This makes me think about bugging him a while back to take me to his work (Delta Airlines) and show me his office, various shop departments, and the hangers. It took a year but he finally took me. I had a ball listening to him explain how things work, looking at the massive engines, and the enormous aircrafts that fly all over the world.
Somehow my email takes a turn and I want to tell him about my conversation with Kate last night. I feel the tears come again. I don’t open up to my dad very often but here I am, explaining how much I miss Rob, how much I wish he were here, and how alone I feel when I see that everyone around me has their significant other.
“Daddy, I’ll never touch him again. I’ll never see him again.” I repeated over and over to him on the phone trying to breathe, while walking home when he called to tell me about Rob’s accident.
I manage to write for a while before heading to various appointments I had to take care of this morning. While dealing with people I try to smile, act interested and not distracted. I save all my tears for when I’m in the car. After I finish everything up I decide to go to San Francisco Coffee again and write more. I feel fairly productive. My phone beeps telling me I have a text message. It’s my client Stuart.
“Hey! Court has finally ended! We still on?”
“Yup!” I text him back. We’re going to meet at Atlantic Station to see Iron Man.
“Iron Man is coming out soon. You wanna see it with me?” Rob asked while we were standing in line at Atlantic Station to see The Bank Job.
I raise an eyebrow as if to say ‘Are you serious?’
“C’mon! It’s gonna be awesome!”
“I don’t know about that.” I tease him. Of course I’ll go. I’m just going to give him a hard time about it first. “If I go, I think you need to come see Sex and the City with me.”
His face literally fell.
“No.” he shook his head.
“I guess you’ll be seeing Iron Man by yourself then!” I laughed.
Ah, but it’s me by myself. I was going to see it alone until I learned that Stuart wanted to see it so I asked him to go with me. We agreed to a 2:20pm show. I finish up a paragraph and leave to drive to midtown.
I pull up to a traffic light that just turned red. The vehicle in front of me is a black Eddie Bauer Explorer with a tag on the back that says Oct, 08. This vision alone reduces me to a puddle of tears. I’ve seen Explorers and Jeep Wranglers all over the place and I am reminded of Rob but today for whatever reason I can’t handle seeing another one.
The light turns green and I’m trying to concentrate on the road. I turn onto West Peachtree and get a hold of myself. My head is pounding. I park at Dillards once I get there and meet Stuart outside.
“How are you?” he asks.
“I’m fucked up!” I exclaim, complete with a huge smile because I don’t know what else to do. That about sums it up.
“I’m sorry.”
I don’t say anything, feeling ok with being quiet. Stuart’s one of those people I can tell my life story to, or say nothing at all and it’s perfectly acceptable.
“Who knew this would have happened?” he said.
I nod.
“You ready to go in?”
“Yup.”
Off we go. The theater is quiet. In my opinion the best time to see a movie is in the middle of the day. I usually go on Mondays.
“Where do you want to sit?” he asks.
“Don’t care.” I reply, suddenly remembering a guy I went to see a movie with asking me this. I was 21 then and couldn’t give him an answer. He tells me that we weren’t going anywhere until I made a decision, which has been a very difficult task for me. I finally did it though.
Stuart doesn’t move so I walk ahead remembering that brief memory plus Rob always encouraging me to have an opinion. I choose seats in the middle.
“This ok?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
Neither of us say a word until the movie ends. Rob was right. It was awesome and certainly something he would have enjoyed. I imagine us seeing it on a Friday night and him wanting to go to Atkins Park or the Highland Tap afterwards for dinner.
“Whatcha think?” Stuart asks.
“So good!” I exclaim.
“Yeah it was!”
We walk outside. It feels so hot already and it’s not even June yet.
“Thank you for seeing it with me.” I tell him, the sun burning my eyes.
“Of course! Glad to.” he smiled. “I need a haircut soon!”
“I’m in next week, then off the next, then back on track after that.” I reply.
“I’ll try and get in early next week.”
“Kay.” I nod. “Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.”
I get into my car and sit in traffic for a while but I don’t care. I change clothes and put on my running shoes once I’m home. I promised myself I’d take today off and rest a bit but I can’t help it. It’s beautiful outside and my head needs some clearing. I go for eight miles. ‘Am I trying to blow out my knees?’ I think to myself. Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment. Apparently I enjoy causing myself pain, and trouble as a form of distraction. Maybe if my legs hurt it’ll take away from the hurt I’ve felt by stumbling into this black hole of grief that has swallowed me up.
When I make it back home, I grab my purse and walk to Trader Joes and buy some grapes. The walk back home was nice with the temperature dropping.
My eyes are heavy and of course my legs hurt. I take a shower and survey the situation in my room. It’s a mess. “What day is it?” I have to think. “Oh, Thursday.” I am reminded of the routine I had in place on Thursdays. I had everything put up and sparkly for when Rob would come over on Friday. I’ve slowly descended into messiness again without him. “Later.” I think to myself. At some point I’ll hate it and clean it. For now though, I’m going to sleep.

Caramel...

I woke up this morning missing Rob so much I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I can’t put words to this feeling. It hits without warning. Simply, it’s wanting something I can’t have and it’s maddening.
I decide to get coffee at Octane in west midtown. I get the computer set up and sit down with my soy latte. I read and respond to email first then decide to look over past things I’ve written. I’ve done this before. I’ve gone back and reread things and everything is fine. Today though it’s as if I’ve physically reliving everything that has happened in the past month all in the time it takes for me to read each blog. Tears are endless and I’m slightly embarrassed at my public display of emotion. There are two men sitting on a couch maybe 3 feet away and they’re talking about how beautiful it is outside. I want to touch them, hold their hands, hug them. I’m surrounded by people but I feel completely isolated.
I can use every excuse in the book not to write. I know when I need to because it’s the time when I don’t want to. Like right now. I feel too emotional to make any sense right now plus I’m scared of the feelings that might come up so I won’t do it. This does nothing for me but cause anxiety because I like to keep up with it.
I do write a little bit before leaving and going for another run. My shins and knees are starting to flare up again and I know that if I’m not careful I’ll blow them out and won’t be able to run for months. Still though, I can’t help it. It’s such a release to run under the sunshine and through the fabulous breeze. I don’t go far this time.
Home again and cleaned up. I run a couple of errands and Kat texts me saying she’s gone in early to work at the pub for a soccer match.
“Wanna come by?”
Why not?
It feels good to drink a beer in the middle of the afternoon in great company, watching a good soccer match. I haven’t done this in forever. When it’s over I decide I need to write more but the traffic is hideous and I’m becoming indecisive on whether or not I’ll be able to focus at home or should I go somewhere else?
I decide on somewhere else. I walk down the street to San Francisco Coffee. My phone takes that moment to blow up. Text after text after text pop up on the screen. Everyone wants to do something on the same day. People are annoyed with me that I haven’t been around. I can’t help it. I’m trying to be here, I’m trying to see everyone and I’m grateful people want to hang out but I’m overwhelmed. Even with this week off I feel like I’m still behind on things with no end in sight.
I can’t concentrate. I walk home then decide to get dinner at Java Vino. I tried to write more there but focusing is impossible. I hate when I get like this. Nothing gets done and I just end up angry. I go back home and take a shower and try yet again to write.
My phone rings at 9:45pm. I think it’s my mom until I see it’s Rob’s sister Kate.
“Hey!” I exclaim.
“Hey man. How are you?”
“I’m ok, how are you?”
“Good…what are you up to?”
“Trying to write.” I reply.
“How’s that going? Is it good for you to do that?”
“Oh yeah! I need to, it just gets hard sometimes.”
We talk about her recent job interview, her wedding dress and what the plan will be when she and my cousin Shevis get married.
“I can’t even believe it Melissa! I’ll be able to wake up next to him every day for the rest of my life. I hope that doesn’t get old.”
“It won’t!” I laugh thinking I could have woken up to Rob next to me every day forever as well.
“I work for a lawyer so I see a lot of bad stuff with people divorcing and all.”
“I know! I hear about a lot of stuff with doing hair as well.” I reply, glancing at the clock. It’s now after 10pm. I think about being on the phone with Rob at about this time. I also think that this is what it was like for him to talk with Kate. I try to imagine what his responses would be to her.
“Have you talked to Patrick?” she asks.
“Nope! We don’t really talk much.”
“What?! Are you serious? How come?”
“I don’t know. He never talks and I talk too much. I knew you and Rob talked all the time and I would tell him I was jealous of that because I wanted that with Patrick.”
“It’s never too late!”
“You’re right. I don’t know what it is that keeps me from picking up the phone.”
“I’ll bet you talk to Alex (Patrick’s fiance) more than him.” she laughed.
“I do!”
“Rob would send me emails all the time and we never went more than two or three days without talking.”
“Are you serious? I would write him and he would tell me he got the email but wouldn’t write me back.” I laughed.
“His emails to me were about some part or accessory I would need when I get my Jeep. I would tell him I didn’t know what he was talking about but he would just say ‘Trust me. You need this.’ He and Shevis would talk about building me the perfect Jeep. Rob would handle the mechanical stuff and Shevis would handle the cosmetic details.”
“That’s awesome!” I laugh.
She tells me she’ll be going to Jacksonville Florida soon to see Shevis before spending two months in Montana.
“Are you flying or driving?” I ask.
“Oh I’m driving ‘old faithful’ all the way down.” she laughed.
Kate drives a Saturn. I forget the year but it’s up there in car years.
“I remember when you went down there for spring break in Rob’s Explorer. He was telling me ‘I’m driving Kate’s roller skate until she comes back from Florida.’”
We both erupted into laughter. I’ve never heard Kate laugh so hard.
“He said that?! A roller skate? He never said that to me!” she said in between breaths.
“Oh yeah. And he got stuck in that tornado mess coming to Atlanta that weekend!”
“He told me! He was so worried that the car would have hail damage.” she replied.
“I know!”
“He fixed all kinds of things on it for me. He changed the oil, replaced the wipers, and showed me how to change the headlights. He also gave me money to fix the headliner. I know it was touching his head the whole time he was driving it. It had no radio either! He must have felt he was in a sardine can. Meanwhile I was in Florida with his sunroof open, lots of room and great radio stations!”
I laugh. “I remember that! It was the weekend of your grandmother’s birthday and Rob wanted to get the oil changed that Sunday before we went down but nothing was open. He was so happy to be able to let you drive his Explorer.”
She tells me Rob’s always been obsessed with cars and various things with wheels.
“He built this ramp in our yard and would do wheelies on his bike when we were little. Later on after he could drive, he and his friends would go off-roading all the time. They rolled over several times on several occasions and always walked away. With the bikes, I would try to do what he did but nothing was ever as good as when he did it. Did you ever see his remote controlled Jeeps?” she asks.
“They were in his apartment right?”
“Yeah. Did he ever show you how they work?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, he’s so funny about them. He would buy parts off ebay for them.” she laughed.
“These boys…” I smile.
“I know. They’re all little boys at heart.” she replied.
I wish I had a tape recorder to record her every word and keep it with me forever. I love her stories and want to soak them all up. This little brain can’t hold it all. I’m tempted to write as she’s talking but I don’t out of fear I’ll miss something important. I just hope I remember when we stop talking.
We talk about people and their reactions to this whole situation when we’re having to explain what happened to Rob.
“Sometimes, I want people there and sometimes I don’t want to be touched or talked to.” she tells me.
“Me too!” I am so relieved to hear this come out of another person. “I hate that I’m that way but that’s how it is. I notice I can be very standoffish to some of my clients as they’re telling me they’re sorry about all this. I hate it too when people tell me not to cry. People! I‘m ok with crying! I just lost the best thing that‘s ever happened to me!” I exclaim.
“Yeah…people think that after a week you should be better and it doesn’t work that way. I was in Best Buy with Shevis and he wanted to look at speakers. We walk over and he’s playing with the car radios. Rob and I used to go to Best Buy and he knew that I liked the radios that lit up and he would get those for his various vehicles. Shevis was pressing all the buttons, making them light up and I just started crying. Everything reminds me of Rob. I cry at Kroger when I see soy milk. I can’t just keep doing that.”
“You can’t rush it either.” I reply.
“I know. It hurts so much to be home. I feel bad for that but I just can’t right now.”
“It’s ok. Everyone is dealing with this in their own way.”
I hear her softly begin to cry. I sit and listen, wishing I could fix it.
“Sometimes I want to drive forever in silence with Shevis. I don’t want to talk, I just want to sit there and be quiet. I want to know he’s there and I can hold his hand if I want.”
Must. Be. Strong. I remind myself. I desperately want Rob right this second. I desperately want to reach out and take his hand, and lace my fingers through his. I want to feel him next to me. I loathe this feeling of not having my other half to lean on when everyone else has their other halves.
“Sometimes I think, what if Rob were in my shoes?” Kate begins. “How would he deal with it? I don’t think he would deal with it. He’s so sweet. He’s such a softie that I think he’d fall into a depression and never get out. Maybe we’re the strong ones. That’s what gets me through sometimes. I just have to remember that we’re the strong ones.”
I never looked at it that way before. I don’t know how he’d react if he lost Kate. I know I’d never leave his side and would try to give him everything he needed but for him to lose her, I don’t know what would happen.
The subject moves again to talk of my relationship with Rob.
“He used to call me saying he said something wrong and ‘messed up’. I would tell him that he had to say exactly what was on his mind for people to understand what it was he wanted. He was never good with words and a little slow to do things.”
I laugh, thinking I had that impression of him when I met him. He was always on “Rob time”.
“Everything happened so fast with you two.” she said.
“I know! It freaked me out at first because I knew I wanted to move to Chicago, but I loved him so much so quickly!”
“He was looking to move out there as well.”
“What?! I had no idea! He said he thought about visiting with me one day before I moved but that was all he said.” I exclaim.
“Oh yeah, he was freaked out about getting too close to you because you wanted to move. He wanted you to take that job if it’s what you wanted but he didn’t want to invest too much emotionally because he’s done the long distance thing before and it resulted in him being the one to have to do everything. He always had to go to Ginger. She never came to him.”
“I told Rob I had all the faith in the world that we’d work it out. I would do whatever it took.” I said.
“I know. I told him that love has a way of working things out.”
“Ok, so I have to ask you this. I was going to ask Rob and never did. He told me one night that he wanted to slow things down and I said that we were going to slow anything down. We either end it or move forward. Was he going to end things?” I asked.
“No, he was never going to break up with you. I’ve never seen him so happy in my life. He was just freaked out about how quickly things were going. I remember him telling me about that night.”
“Oh yeah. I just got home from Chicago and he springs that on me after I had just told him I was anxious about our relationship.”
“I know.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
“Rob loved how you didn’t require fancy dinners and things. You were completely happy with a cup of coffee and his company. I told him ‘See Rob, this is what it’s like to date a real girl. A nice one. They do exist.’ He didn’t even know what he had been missing out on. He kept getting caught up with these high maintenance girls who expected him to do everything.”
“I just don’t understand that. I also don’t understand how they didn’t appreciate him.”
“I know. They didn’t though. Rob and I both liked how you two could have a disagreement, calmly work it out and let it go. You didn’t pout or be mean afterwards.”
I remember never raising my voice at him, never saying anything mean, just how I felt about something he may have said or did that may have hurt my feelings or bugged me. We’d calmly address the situation and move on. It was like I knew life was too short to argue about stupid stuff. I usually don’t let things go so quickly.
“I didn’t mean for the conversation to go in this direction. I normally can’t talk about him. I just miss him so much. It hurts so much.” she says quietly.
“I know. I want to hear everything you have to say whenever you want to say it.” I reply. My eyes travel to the picture I have of Rob on my dresser. He’s smiling back at me and I want more than anything to climb into that image and be there with him.
It’s almost midnight. I can’t believe I’m still awake and furthermore, can’t believe I’ve been able to function on such little sleep. I’ll be up again at 6am to write again in the morning and happy to do it.
“I’m gonna get to sleep darlin’.” I tell Kate.
“Yeah man, I need to do the same thing. It’s so good to talk to you.”
“Same here.”
“I just… since all this, I just want to hug everyone a little tighter, talk a little longer, ya know?” she says quietly.
“I know. I’ve felt the same way. Nothing matters anymore but spending time with people.”
“I know. Ok. You have fun writing tomorrow. Put some caramel in that soy latte and think of me.” I hear her smile.
“Will do.” I reply.
“I got Rob turned on to that.”
“I know!” I laugh.
You sleep good ok?” she says.
I look at Rob’s picture again. He used to say that to me.
“Yes ma’am, you too.”
“Yes ma’am. Goodnight.”
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.
“Goodnight.” I reply. Again, Rob would say these exact words to me.
We get off the phone and I place it on my dresser. Everything is silent. I turn the light out and curl up in bed once again wrapped in Rob’s shirt hoping sleep comes fast.

30...

My alarm had me up at 5:45am. I was dressed, fed and out the door by 6:00am. I went to Inman Perk, one of my favorite coffee shops, got a soy latte and started my writing. For four hours I wrote, taking the occasional break to think, reread what I wrote, or check an email.
It’s May 20th. I stare at the clock on my computer screen. I think to myself “this time last month, I was talking to Rob, taking a shower, going to work…” This time last year I was in Spain. I got wrapped up in some stuff that was emotionally difficult to deal with and left for a little while. Never did I ever imagine I’d be contemplating the same thing, because I just lost the person I loved the most. I didn’t even know Rob last year.
I am happy with my decision to stay put in Atlanta and stick this out. I’m not running away this time like I’m so accustomed to doing when things get difficult.
“One day you’ll stop running and will be able to sit still.” one of my mom’s sisters told me. I didn’t believe her at the time but I’m doing it!
I keep writing. I write and write and write until I have to stop and take a break because it’s emotionally draining, and I’m overwhelmed by the task. I pull up an email from my Swedish friend Robert. I wrote him the day that Rob died and his response was:
“Hey.
I am so so sorry to hear about all this. Horrible news.
Life is not fair and it doesnt make sense sometimes.
I am not good with words, and to say the right thing now is not easy.
I know from own experience (since my dad just passed away) it will be painful and it will come in waves. I dont think you should try to block them or avoid them. the pain and tears has to come out somewhere so please let it come. And the old line: "time will heal" is true. I know it is not what you want to hear right now. I bet nothing in the world feels important now and it is hard to focus and concentrate. But you must!!! Make time for grief when the waves comes but make sure you stand up after each one of them. You are stronger than you think. Trust me. But it will take time to go through all this.
And if you can, try to use your writing talent, write things down, words, feelings, thoughts. write it all down and keep it somewhere. Dont try to write sense, scribble everything down. It will maybe look simple, bad and messy but when the right time comes you will see everything clear. And I think the notebook will become a very close friend of yours who really understand you and knows what you feel. And best of all, the notebook will never ever judge your thoughts or feelings.
I am here for you through email if you want.
I know you will make it.
I am not sure if what I write to you is good or bad. It is not easy.
I send you millions of hugs”
I made sure I had a notebook with me at all times after reading this when he sent it. I have three now that I’ve jotted down random thoughts, stories, rough drafts of things, words to jog my memory for something I’ll write about later, and every memory I have of Rob and us that pops into my head. I make time for my thoughts, questions, crying, and I do my absolute best to stand up afterwards and place another piece of my life back together. I know good and well that Rob would be pissed off at me if I lived under the covers in my bed and did nothing but sink into the oblivion of my overwhelming grief. I keep waiting for a storm to come. I keep waiting to get knocked on my ass. I’m waiting for the rush of the reality of the situation to take hold of me and sling me out into the open air, letting me fall wherever face first onto the ground, broken into a million pieces.
Maybe this won’t happen though. Maybe I’m learning about how to deal with my feelings for once through all this. Maybe I’m doing exactly as I need to be doing and everything really is as it is and I’m doing something right. Maybe he’s really here, holding my hand like he always told me he would. Maybe if and when the storm does come, and I am thrown out into the vast expanse of the universe, and I do break into a million pieces, I’ll be equipped for fixing myself and standing up again.
I can’t sit still any longer. I pack up and go home to change clothes. I get dressed for the gym and start running. Music is playing in my ears but I can’t get the sound of my dad’s voice out of my head. Nothing is more heartbreaking than hearing my calm, sweet, quiet, father’s voice crack from crying.
“I have some bad news. Rob’s been in an accident. He’s dead.” plays over and over in head. The disbelief washes over me again and again. Not my Rob. No. There’s a mistake. Tears flood my eyes but don’t spill over as my feet pound the pavement. My lungs expand and contract, sucking air in and pushing it out as I run. Why can’t I cry when I feel like I need to? My brain is still trying to make sense of what has happened and how’s it’s going to function through it.
I make it to the gym. I’m not there long before the muscles in my legs begin to shake from lifting weights. It’s been a month since I’ve set foot in here. I decide I’ll have to go easy for a little while. “Maybe I’ll start that tomorrow.” I think to myself as I run all the way back home.
I make it home and shower. After getting dressed I eat lunch and head out again to Java Vino. I set up the computer and get back to writing. Again, I reread everything carefully, and keep going. I pour every ounce of energy and love I have into it. It’s as if I’m still able to keep giving Rob all my love by writing and remembering him. Marian (massage therapist) sends me an email telling me I seem to be doing very well and my body wasn’t all locked up. I feel I am doing as well as can be expected but I don’t want folks to think for a minute that just because I’m not wallowing in tears or moping around doesn’t mean I’m fine and everything is all sparkly beautiful because it’s not. I wish I had the words to explain it better, but it’s as if something else is here with me, holding me up, and helping me along the way. It keeps me from looking too hard at the past and from looking too far into the future. It holds me right here, right now, where I need to be. It keeps me focused on the task at hand, whether that’s writing, talking, cutting hair, eating, or even sleeping.
Another four hours go by and I need to run a couple of errands before heading to Rob’s parent’s house for dinner. I drop my things off at home and see that I got my phone bill. There is a long list of calls made to and from Atlanta GA phone numbers, with Anderson SC calls sprinkled in there along the way. The Anderson calls abruptly stop on April 18th and aren’t ever listed again. I search the calls that were made and came in on April 20th. My parent’s number is listed at 5:53pm. It was the first call I had received that day. I hear my dad’s voice again.
“I have some bad news. Rob’s been in an accident. He’s dead.”
I still remember what the sky looked like that day. Bright blue with fluffy white clouds. I remember stumbling down N. Highland, trying to breathe, hanging up with daddy, calling my aunt, calling Kat, plowing into her on the street outside near our house…
“…he’s dead.” Nothing is more final than that. There is nothing I want to reverse more than those words.
I drive out I-20 to Stockbridge. The sky looks the same today as it did a month ago. This still feels weird without him with me, or well, with him driving and me next to him in the passenger seat, singing along to whatever is on the radio. It’s just me singing this time as I get off the exit and make my way through a little bit of traffic to Rob’s parent’s house.
Both his parents, his sisters Lesley and Laura are there along with Laura’s boyfriend David. We eat Chinese food and talk about Rob’s funeral briefly before the subject moves along to American Idol and Judy’s work. “Life is still happening.” I think to myself. American Idol will have another season, summer is coming again, we’ll all have birthdays, we’ll all get older, but Rob, he’ll be 26 years old forever. I know he’s with us all but not in the sense we’re used to. He won’t get to share in all this like we’d like him to.
We finish dinner and Rob’s dad (Rick) asks me to come downstairs. He wanted to give me some fruit. When he gets everything out of the cooler I say,
“ I have a question. It’s ok if you don’t want to answer it though.”
“What is it?”
“Um. When all this happened with Rob, and you went there to where the accident happened…” I trailed off. This is harder than I thought. “Um,, did you see Rob?”
“No. I didn’t, but I asked the questions.”
I nod. “I hate I’m so curious, but I don’t understand what happened exactly.” I don’t think I ever will really. I’d have to actually see it to believe it.
“He died from hitting the back of his head.”
“How did that happen? I thought he hit the side of his head first.”
“No, he was ejected and that’s when he hit his head and the Jeep rolled over him.” he replied.
I’m still having trouble understanding.
Rick reached out and hugged me. The tears form again and pool in my eyes without spilling over.
“I want my son back.” he tells me.
I nod.
“I know I don’t show it but it hurts so much. My namesake is gone.”
I nod again.
Lesley walks downstairs and joins us in a group hug. We talk more about the situation.
“Rob wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. The damn thing was tied down. They never intended to use it. If he did use it, he’d still be here.” Rick said.
I don’t say a word. There’s no changing what happened. I won’t even let my mind go there.
“There’s a reason for all this. Maybe it’s so the rest of our lives could be better somehow, that we’ll learn something. I don‘t know.” he said.
I nod.
We walk back upstairs. Lesley retreats back to her room and I sit in the living room and talk with her parents. The conversation flows from Rob’s death, to his life, to Kate’s wedding and back to Rob’s life in college. I love the stories. I can’t get enough information about him. I had nine weeks with him. His parents had 26 years.
Every time I look at his mom, I see him. I want to be close to her. I want to tell her everything, just like I told Rob everything. I feel a certain clinginess coming on but at the same time, I’m scared to share because I don’t want to be telling her things she may not want to hear, so I keep my mouth shut.
It’s late when I leave. I don’t like what’s on the radio so I turn on my iPOD and drive down the quiet streets with David Gray’s soft piano accompaniment floating through my ears. I want to crawl into this song and let it envelop me until I feel strong enough to stand up again. I merge onto I-20 again. Tears come hard and fast. I grip the steering wheel trying to get a hold of myself. It’s everything I’ve held in today coming out. It’s tears from writing, from frustration when I can’t find the words I need, from feeling terrified of ‘what people might think’, from wanting to divulge every last microscopic detail of the person I knew to his mother, telling her what he meant to me, what he did for my life and how I’ve searched so long for a person like him to walk into my life and turn the light on, letting me see what I was missing out on by opening my mind, physically and emotionally and loving me with everything he had.
It’s nearly 1:30am. Last month I was with my parents, talking to my mom until about this time. I couldn’t sleep when she left the room. Tonight, I’m sitting up in my own bed, wearing another one of Rob’s shirts, stopping every so often to inhale it because it smells like his detergent and missing him so much I feel the gap in my heart open wide and swallow me whole.

Untitled Document...

Untitled Document…
I’m up early and in the shower. After getting dressed I get coffee, quickly check email and drive to see my chiropractor. It takes me a while to get there and tears come without warning. I’m still not sure what triggers these random outbursts but I have to go with it. I am composed when I get there and walk through the door.
“What’s been going on with you?” he asks as I sit on a chair in the exam room. I haven’t seen him in a while.
“Um, a lot.” I reply.
“Yeah? How’s the Chicago thing coming?”
“Uh, it’s not, right now. It’s been put on hold. I um,” I can’t look him in the face. I stare at the wall and it’s as if something else is talking now. “I lost my boyfriend in a car accident. I’ve been dealing with that.”
“Whoa! I’m sorry to hear that! I didn’t expect that kind of news at all.”
Trust me, neither did I.
He adjusts my neck and back and I’m out the door. I’m driving for God knows how long when while at a red light, I notice mom’s car is overheating. WTF??!!! Not again!!!
...I asked Rob one afternoon in the middle of the week if I could come see him.
“Sure. When you coming?”
“Right now ok?”
“Yeah.”
I left and sat in traffic for an hour and a half. I make it to Winder Georgia when I notice the thermostat on my car is blinking. The car is overheating. Agh! I carefully pull over and try to breathe. “It’s ok.” I tell myself. “Nothing has blown up yet.” I call Rob.
“Hey.” he answers.
“Hey honey, I uh, I’m on the side of the road.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know yet, the car is over heating.” I reply, noticing I haven’t turned it off yet and the temperature gauge is telling me the engine is cooling.
“Are you serious? Where are you?”
“Winder. Um, the car is cooling off now.”
“It’s still on?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Turn it off and pop the hood.”
Do I have to?
“Ok.” I pop the hood and climb out. I carefully walk alongside the car as trucks and other massive vehicles are flying past me, the wind smacking my skirt against my legs. I pull the hood up and look inside.
“Do you see anything?” he asks.
“Nope. Nothing crazy.”
“No fluid anywhere?”
“Nope.” I’m staring at my engine wondering what’s going to happen.
“Ok. How’s your coolant?”
“Uh...” I look for the radiator. “I don’t see my radiator.”
“Should be in the front.”
“I’m staring at the front. I see nothing.” I reply.
“Ok, get back in the car and get your owner’s manual.”
I do so.
“Got it.”
“Find a diagram and see if you can find the radiator.”
I do that and there’s nothing in there.
“I don’t see a damn thing.”
“Ok. It may be your coolant is low. You’re closer to home than you are to here. I hate to tell you this but you need to go back home. Drive slow and if it happens again, then turn the car off and let it sit for thirty minutes and try it again. If something else happens call me and I’ll come get you wherever you are.”
“Alright. Dammit. I really wanted to see you.”
“Me too. Are you ok though?”
“Yeah, just freaked out a little.” Somehow hearing his voice and knowing he’s a phone call away has kept me sane through this little learning experience. We get off the phone, and I drive back to Atlanta with no issues. I find out later that I had only a few drops of coolant left. Oops!
The second I reach for the phone I am reminded that Rob isn’t here anymore. That knowledge combined with my frustration and indecision on what to do brings on another wave of tears. I watch the gauge as I continue to carefully drive. I’m too far from home to have this thing blow up. I pray and pray and pray. The temp. gauge slowly backs down. I go a few more miles and decide to stop in a bookstore, hoping to give it a chance to calm down.
Oh, and calm down it does. So much in fact that it doesn’t want to start. EEK! It’s gotta be the oil. Mom’s car was leaking when I got it from her almost a month ago. I keep trying to start it. The engine eventually turns over and off I go, temp. gauge intact. I make it to an oil change place and get it all fixed up. Whew. I have a feeling that I haven’t seen the end of the traveling temp gauge though…
My day continues. There is this person that is very dear to me, that I love very much and want a relationship with but can’t seem to make myself vulnerable enough to get to that point…where things are completely open and non judgmental. I am very guarded with what I share out of fear of the response I’ll get. This person means well when offering me their opinion but I don’t ask for an opinion. They give it anyway and now I’m left standing here after talking with them thinking, am I doing the wrong thing? Am I wasting time with the writing project I’ve started? Am I giving too much information? If I am, is that wrong? What is truly ’wrong’ in the first place? All these little things create a huge mountain growing under my skin. It makes me second guess myself and fills me with an enormous amount of self doubt that I my compulsive behavior is triggered and I’m angry, working hard again to get centered and think for myself and no one else.
I go for a run. I think to myself that first of all, if I’m wrong for anything, God forgive me. I then think that no, this project isn’t a waste of time. It’s something I need to do for myself. I enjoy it so much. I feel like I’m teetering on this fence and could fall over at any moment in either direction. If I go one way, I’ll fall into the person you want me to be, living the life you think I ought to be living, whatever that may be. If I fall the other way I’ll live the life I want to live and that might include opening my mind, crossing some lines, and some foul language but in the end I’m still a good person. Rob was well on his way to teaching me that.
“Your slipping.” he said to me one day.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t have an example right now, but you aren’t completely being yourself and I just want you to know that I’m noticing.” he smiled at me.
“I can’t change the behavior if you don’t have an example.” I say, quite curious as to what I’m doing that he’s picking up on.
“Don’t worry, I’ll call you out on it next time.” he winked at me.
I go over all of this is my head, wishing someone would just tell me what to do. Really though, I know what to do already. I have everything I need right here with me. I just have to do what I need to do for myself, follow my heart and sometimes my head and everything will come out ok.
I end up back home and in the shower. I’m going to see a former co-worker and massage therapist, Marian for a much needed 90 minute massage. I get dressed and head out. Her house is everything precious just like her. I adore Marian’s beauty and intuition. I want to emulate her and carry her energy with me always.
“So!” she exclaims when I walk in. “I’ve been putting good energy out in the universe for you! I really hope this massage helps.”
“I so need that! You’re so awesome!” I laugh.
She shows me to the massage room. It’s quiet with a single window and lit with little lights. She instructs me to get undressed, hang my things up and lay face down on the massage table. She walks out and shuts the door. I do as she said and slowly begin to relax, my face sinking into the face cradle.
“Melissa? You ready?” Marian’s voice pipes up through the door.
“Yes ma’am!”
She comes in and gets things situated.
“I’m going to just use my intuition on your body today and try to give it everything it needs. Are there any trouble spots I need to know about?”
“My mid-back is all jacked up but that’s all.”
“Ok.”
She begins by gently rocking my back, and hips.
“Your back is tight!” she exclaimed.
I giggle.
She keeps working. Pushing, pulling, stretching, kneading in all the best ways possible. I sink further and further into oblivion. Getting a massage from Marian is like drinking the best water your lips have ever tasted on a day when you’re thirstier than you ever realized. When it’s over I feel rested, energized and clear headed.
We chat a little on my way out. A long time ago, her boyfriend passed away and I’ve been wanting to talk to her about it.
“It’s really weird.” she starts. “I always knew it was going to happen. That I’d lose him somehow but could never imagine what it would be from.”
“Me too!” I exclaim. “I knew I wanted Rob for the rest of my life but knew that I couldn’t have him. I just couldn’t figure out why I had that feeling. I knew it within days of meeting him.”
“Oh that gives me chills!”
I’ve heard that a lot recently when talking about him. I’m about to ask her how she dealt with the loss of her boyfriend, but stop myself. I know she followed the path she needed to follow and I have to do the same. I can’t follow hers. Before I leave she gives me the name of a coffee shop near by.
“This is definitely your kind of place!” she hands me the slip of paper with the information on it. “Go. Write. Do what you need to do ok?” she smiles at me.
“I will.” I firmly state. I hug her goodbye and leave. When I get home I park the car (that is STILL telling me it’s overheating by the way) and walk to the grocery store. I pick out delicious things that don’t come in boxes and walk home still feeling refreshed. I make dinner, calmly eat it and settle into the rest of the evening.

Disappear...

Disappear…
We’re standing next to his Explorer early one Sunday morning at the salon, saying goodbye when he kisses me, telling me to have a good day at work. It’s bright outside and we’re both suffering from mild hangovers that resulted from last night’s debauchery. Despite the fact I can barely recite my name right now I’m all sorts of giddy. He told he loved me last night and it made my entire life. I kiss him one more time before turning to walk into the salon. I’m almost to the door when I hear his voice call out behind me.
“Hey!”
I turn around and see him standing next to the driver’s door.
“I love you.” he says in the most sincere tone my ears have ever heard. My heart melts completely and my stomach flips.
“I love you too.” I smile and we both go our separate ways.
It’s Sunday again, and I’m walking through the salon door remembering that day and how I wanted to run back to him, jump into his arms and forget all about work. Have you ever wanted something so badly that your entire being ached? That feeling sneaks up on me sometimes, sucks the air out of my lungs and punches me in the stomach when I realize he’s not here.
I’m still sleepy. I want to disappear. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be with anyone. I don’t have the energy for anything. I don’t know what to do with “gone forever”. I’m uncomfortable, and indecisive. I loathe people, traffic, and the busyness that results when it’s pretty outside.
Earlier this week I was staring at delta.com, searching flights to my favorite cities. I feel I can’t stand to sit still here in Atlanta for another second, yet traveling stresses me out in another way. I want to be surrounded by something different with no distractions. I am indecisive on where to go. I took this time off from work to write. It’s going to be hard to do that when I’m some place else, wanting to explore. It’s also hard here in Atlanta when everything I’ve ever known is right here and distractions are so easily accessible. I started writing again like it’s my job. During the eight years I’ve done hair, never have I ever put my career on hold, but I feel like I have now. The only thing that matters to me is reliving my memories through writing and somehow trying to make sense of what my life is going to be like now.
I work and finish. Talking about Rob this week has been… interesting. I notice that I don’t want any affection, pity or anything from any of my clients. I brush the subject off as if it didn’t actually happen to me, but to someone else. I’m not sure where this is coming from. With my co-workers though, I want to share everything. I want to be close to them. I’m so used to putting on a ‘happy face’ for my clients, regardless of how I actually feel that I don’t know how to be anyone else. I don’t like to admit that I’m a human with more than one emotion. I feel they see me as a little robot, so to be anything else is rather uncomfortable.
I’d like to write when I get off but the coffee shops I pass along the way home are packed. I feel my Sundays are dictated by these crowds and it puts me in an even more darker mood.
I run instead. For ten miles I run. All through the neighborhoods, trying to avoid cars and other pedestrians, hoping to clear my head. I think about flying to London, Paris, Barcelona, Seattle and Charleston. Rob and I were supposed to go up there at some point this summer.
“I want to show you around, show you where I went to school, take you to my favorite restaurants.” he told me.
“I’m off for the weekend at the end of May.” I piped up. “I was actually going to go with mom, but we haven’t talked about it in a while.”
“We’ll see.” he replied.
I catch myself rolling my eyes. Rob liked for things to be his idea I learned. I remember he had something in his eye at my apartment one afternoon and was struggling to get it out.
“I have eye drops in the bathroom.” I offered.
“No, I’m fine.” he says, still digging in his eye.
He goes to the bathroom to find whatever it is that’s eating his eye. I follow him.
“You sure you don’t want the drops?” I ask.
“No, I’ll get it out.”
I watch him for a while not saying anything else. Minutes go by.
“I’ll be back.” he says while walking out of the bathroom.
“Where ya going?”
“To my car to get my eye drops.”
I think to myself, “Lord! He’s such a man!”
Can I even handle going to Charleston without him? Is that the smartest thing right now? I need to stay put and focus on writing like I planned. I’m terrified though. As much as I want and need this time, I’m scared of the feelings that may come up. I’m scared I won’t know how to handle it. Maybe that’s way I want to fly right now and be so far away that I may fall off the planet. I’d still be stuck with all the mess floating in my brain, no matter where I end up. There is no trip I could take that would heal what’s going on in my heart and head right now and I know it.
I make it home with my shins and knees still intact. Lord knows what it’s going to feel like in the morning. I take a shower and get dressed. Shannon and I are going to dinner tonight. She knocks on my door as I’m changing purses. I’ve missed her. We chat for a minute and decide to go to Apres Diem. We talk about Rob, work, life. I can feel myself calming down a good bit. She listens to my stories and I feel safe, like she’s not pitying me, or dismissing my grief and all it’s weirdness. She’s just there and for once this week, I’m comfortable.

Clients...

Client…
I woke up this morning and went through my usual routine. Oatmeal, coffee shop, email, writing, and some reading. I wanted to run but didn’t have time. The bugs on my hip are still quite sore, so I may not be running for a while anyways.
I walk home and shower, then get dressed for work. I stop and pick up Rob’s picture that is sitting on my dresser. It’s the one I just developed of him in the Explorer. I stare at it and talk to him.
“Just let me know you’re here.” I say to the paper. “I love you so much.”
The glossy still image is smiling back at me. I place it back on the dresser and continue getting ready for work. How am I today? I think to myself. My mind draws a blank. I don’t have a clue.
I drive to work as if on autopilot. I stop at Belly on N. Highland for some orange juice that Rob loved. It’s yet another beautiful day. I get to work, park the car and go in. My day is busy with wonderful people. I walk to my station and open my drawer. In it I find a card and a package. The package is from Marla, a client I met at a coffee shop one afternoon shortly after I started working at Salonred. It contains a little notebook that says “Dreams” across the front of it and two gift certificates to this precious coffee shop in Decatur that she and I were talking about when I saw her last. I smile and place the items back in the large envelope they came in. I open the card and it’s from another client, Sandy. She says she’s thinking about me and said that she hoped one day I’ll be able to share my writing with my family and Rob’s. This makes me cry.
I get a hold of myself and set up my station. I enjoy everyone’s company. There is no mention of Rob until I see Marty, my 3pm. Monique did her color first and she’s now in my chair. I’m pretty sure she knows about Rob and I can’t even look her in the eye right now.
“Melissa, I’m so sorry for your loss.” she says quietly after sitting in my chair.
I look at her then and tell her thank you. The expression on her face is so sincere that I have to avert my eyes again. I pull out my cape and drape it around her neck. I start sectioning her hair.
“Oh you have a daisy on your necklace!” she exclaims.
I smile.
“I love daisies!”
“Me too.”
She tells me that a psychic told her that the daisy was “her flower”. She went into a story about this psychic and how she believes in these things. I’ve never found myself disclosing much information to Marty but she’s got my interest piqued this afternoon.
“Have you ever been to a psychic?” she asks.
“Yes.” I tell her about James.
“Do you feel Rob?” she asks after I’m done.
“I do, but it’s weird. It’s not a physical thing. I just know that he’s there. Sometimes, I feel this overwhelming sense of comfort. I felt that with him when he was alive. It’s hard to explain.” I reply.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want to upset you by any means, and if this is too much then let me know…”
“Of course. You can tell me anything.” I stop cutting and look at her.
“I don’t know why I’m about to say what I’m going to say.” she begins.
I nod.
“I just have this feeling. It’s like Rob had to physically leave you so you could have this sort of freedom, not that he ever held you back, because he didn’t, it’s just you needed to become a stronger person and you could only do that through this.”
I’m crying. It’s exactly what I’ve felt. So many things clicked into place and I feel I now see myself as he saw me. I now want to take care of myself and actually live my life and not let it just go by to pass time.
“Oh honey, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Are these good tears?”
I nod. My whole body is red.
“I can feel him.” she says. “Do you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t feel anything.”
“He’s kinda standing almost between us. He was a very strong person wasn’t he?”
I can’t believe this is happening and that I’m not freaking out at the moment. The tears have stopped and my hands are on Marty’s shoulders while she’s telling me she feels my deceased boyfriend standing with us.
“Yes. Very much so.”
“I can feel that.”
“How?”
“I can’t explain it. I just know things. I don’t know how.”
I decide to just stop questioning and let whatever is going to happen, happen. We don’t say anything for a while until I pipe up.
“I think it’s interesting I wore this necklace today being that you like daisies.” I get back to cutting her hair. “I was about to walk out the door before I saw it and stopped to put it on.”
“That is interesting. Daisies are very happy flowers.” she smiles.
“They are. I thought I lost this necklace but found it a couple of weeks ago” I smile back.
“Really. Maybe you could help me find these two rings that belonged to my mother.”
“How?” I don’t know how I’d be of assistance.
“I was going to get them sized and had them wrapped up in blue tissue paper. They were sitting on my dresser then one day they were gone.”
I nod and think to Rob, “Honey, help her find them…”
“You’ll find them.” I reply. “May not be exactly when you want, but they’ll turn up. You have to call me if that happens before I see you again.” I giggle.
“I will do that!”
I walk Marty up front and she checks out. The rest of my day goes by smoothly. My dear friend Jeff is my last one. He hugs me hello when he walks in.
“How are you?” he asks when I let go.
“I don’t have an answer for that.”
He stares at me.
“I’m happy to be doing your hair though!” I chirp and motion for him to follow me to my chair.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch.” he says when he sits. “I wasn’t really sure what to do or say.”
I nod. I imagined myself sitting on Jeff’s couch with him, holding his hand while I told him about Rob. I’ve noticed it’s women I want to talk most with and men, I just want to feel them, hug them, hold their hands. I’m still searching for the connection I had with Rob.
“You said you had a lot to tell me.” he says.
“I do.” I don’t know where to start and if I even want to have this conversation at work.
I start cutting his hair and begin talking about moving Rob’s things out of his place, about the funeral, about how I’ve managed to still hold my life together for the most part. I told him about how I feel I’ve finally gotten closer with my family, how my idea of what’s really important, completely changed, and how people have been so overwhelmingly amazing with their love and support.
“I didn’t even know people cared so much.” I said to the side of Jeff’s head while my blades opened and closed over the hair that inhabited the left side of his neck. My hand begin to shake, my voice cracks and I stop cutting but keep staring at his head until the shaking stops then I resume. “It’s an awful thing to have happen but I’ve learned so much, seemingly overnight.”
He says nothing and I’m not sure where to go from here. Jeff is the best listener simply because he just listens and says nothing but right now, I need him to say something. I change the subject.
“I still want to take you out for your birthday.” I smile at him. His birthday was the day of my accident. Two days before Rob’s.
“Ok. Weekends are usually best for me.”
“Saturday then?”
“If I don’t have to work, yes.”
“Deal.”
I finish his hair and pack up my station as he leaves. I think to myself that out of all the conversations I‘ve shared with my clients, through all the crazy stories I’ve heard and told, I’ve never had to deal with grief before while at work. I’ve learned more than I’ve ever wanted to know about marriage, child birth, crazy family situations, schools, teenagers, toddlers, old folks, illness, vacations, restaurants, and various jobs but there have only been a tiny handful of situations where I’ve dealt with a grieving client. Even then, they are quick to dismiss the subject. Never have I ever been on the other side of that equation. I guess there’s always room for more learning experiences…

Ink...

Ink…
The needle hits my skin at 300 beats a second, injecting black, purple, green, blue and yellow ink permanently into the skin that resides over my hip bone. I’m at Sacred Heart Tattoo in Little Five Points, my favorite artist, Sten is hovered over my exposed flesh working away at the image that will eventually be two ladybugs flying toward each other. The blue and yellow one is Rob and the purple and green on is me.
“Are you sure Rob wants to be a ladybug?” Kate laughed yesterday.
“Of course he does!” I giggled. “He called me ladybug, and blue is his favorite color.”
Years ago my Swedish buddy Robert told me the colors blue and yellow (colors of the Swedish flag) were “happy colors.” That has stuck with me since. I was happiest when in Rob’s company. The shirt he wore the day we met was blue and yellow and I couldn’t help but smile.
Sten and I don’t talk much this time. When I talk my stomach moves so I sit there and let my mind both wander and examine the pain that’s going on.
“Why do w enjoy the tattooing process so much?” I do eventually ask. “I mean, this shit hurts. Why do it?”
“I dunno. When you think about it, people have been expressing themselves on their skin for thousands of years. It sets you apart from the rest of the world. It show how committed you are to that expression.”
I nod. All my tattoos have meaning to them. I don’t share those meanings with anyone. Rob didn’t even know. This one of course is for him and extra special.
I close my eyes. Sometimes the pain is so sharp the skin jumps involuntarily. It’s a process I have to sit through, much like this grief. In order to get what I want, I have to sit still and feel it, then it’ll heal.
My eyes are jolted open and I find myself trying to breathe. My hands are clasped under my chest, the pinky of my left hand digging into a rib to distract my brain from the pain on my hip. I want to reach out and grab Sten’s hair. I stare at it though, how each tiny hair has it’s own little place. I think about Rob’s hair and how much I loved running my fingers through it. My eyes close again.
Earlier that morning I had to meeting boss lady Jessica and Monique for my half year review. My numbers were good and I got a raise. Jessica tells me what an asset I am and it fills my eyes with tears. Everything makes me cry nowadays. She asks if there’s anything I’d like to talk about or anything I need. Not with work. I love my job and have no complaints. Monique tells me she bought “Do Dead People Watch You Shower?” and was flipping through it when she came across a question someone asked about how do the dead show us they’re there? The end of her reply was “They like to use frogs, turtles and sometimes birds or butterflies to show us they’re here with us from some reason.” My heart skips a beat when I think about the turtle I saw in the road on Thursday. Makes me smile.
“Alright, hop up and take a look at that,” Sten’s voice brings me back to the present. I gently roll off the table and over to the mirror where there are two perfect bugs etched on to my skin.
“Perfect!” I squeal.
“Good.”
Sten bandages me up and sends me on my way. I walk across the street to the car. I know good and well that consuming soy lattes, staring at pictures, buying a diamond band and putting a tenth tattoo on my body in honor of Rob will not bring him back, but it helps to have these little reminders of him with me. It’s something tangible I can look at or hang on to because his body isn’t here for me to squeeze anymore.

Twenty one...

It’s Sunday, Mother’s Day and raining when I wake up this morning. Daddy is sick and we’re not going to church today. I roll out of bed and eat breakfast, trying to stop concentrating on the fact that yet again, Rob isn’t next to me.
I get dressed and drive to west midtown to Octane. It’s one of my favorite coffee shops. As I approach the parking lot, I see they’re closed. Damn. I go back towards the Highlands and decide on Inman Perk. I pass Java Vino on the way and something tells me to turn around. Rob and I went there for wine and the occasional cup of coffee. We laughed how it was when it rained that we went the most. The last time we were here, we were on the couch and looking up “Saving Abel” and his favorite song “Addicted.” It was late…
I turn the car around and go back, parking in the lot in the same place Rob usually parked. I go inside and order a soy latte, then get my computer set up. I’m going to update my iTUNES software and load up my new Shuffle. I was with Rob at Best Buy when I saw the little purple device.
“Are you going to buy it?” he asked.
I knew I would but knew it wouldn’t be now.
“Nope.”
It was after my accident and his that I bought it. The same purple one I saw just weeks before. My original is in my Celica. At least that’s where it better be.
I watch the computer install the software. That gets boring so I stare out of the window and think about this week.
On Thursday I was driving home from Whole Foods and saw this gigantic turtle in the road. I swerved to miss him. Something told me to stop and get him out of the road, so I stop the car and get out, hoping I don’t get killed myself. The road winds and people speed on it all the time. I feel safe though for whatever reason and gently pick up this creature and put him safely on the other side of the road among the dirt and trees and continue home. That’s never happened to me. I’ve never saved a turtle. I’ve seen them when I was with mom or something. Never alone.
That night after work, I have a feeling that I need to go to the bookstore. It’s going to rain though and I don’t want to get stuck in that mess. I argue with said feeling saying I’ll go tomorrow. It argues back and says to go now. No! I win and go home.
I’m exhausted and decide to watch “P.S. I Love You.” Hillary Swank’s character loses her husband and he manages to put together this grand scheme of sending her letters every month. I watched it in the theater back in December when it came out. I remember thinking, “I hope I never have to go through that.” Sure enough, here I am, wrapped up in Rob’s shirt and eating a damn pint of ice cream, crying with Ms Swank as she makes her way through her grief. It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone. We all go through grief.
On Friday, I have computer trouble. I decide on my lunch break that I’ll work on it then. By the time my lunch break rolls around I could care less about the computer because the feeling telling me to go to the bookstore has returned with determination. Ok, ok, I’m going.
Once I’m there, I wander, unsure of where to go. I look at a couple of things and stop to think about the days following Rob’s death. For the first time in my life, I was questioning, what happens to us when we die? Where are we? How is it that Rob can be with me, his family and friends all at the same time? How is it that he can hear all of us and fill us all with his love? Days were still going by and sometimes I’d have to dismiss the thoughts because it got to be too overwhelming. One day though the word “energy” popped into my head. That’s it. I thought to myself. We’re all energy. Energy can go anywhere and do anything, especially if it’s part of God. I felt this overwhelming sense of comfort after that piece of the puzzle clicked in my head.
I stop in the “New Age” section of the bookstore. This stuff usually freaks me out. One book in particular pops out at me. “Do Dead People Watch You Shower?” by Concetta Bertoldi. I picked it up and began to flip through it. The author is a medium and she answers the most commonly asked questions about life after death. I’m fascinated. I can’t buy it though, I’ve already got too much to read. The feeling returns though, washing over me and instructing me to buy the book. Ok, ok. I do.
Back at work, I show it to my manager, Monique. While she’s flipping through it, she makes the comment that this was written recently. I didn’t bother to check the publication until later that night. It was written this year. Chills run through my spine. I stop to wonder if Rob’s trying to tell me something. Trying to help me understand where he is.
My Aunt Teal is on her way to pick me up. Kate’s graduation is tomorrow and I’m spending the night at her house so I can ride with her to Athens in the morning. I put the book away as she calls to tell me she’s outside. We go to dinner and to a movie. We’re both exhausted by the time we get to her house. I fall into bed and fall asleep almost instantly.
The next morning, I felt my aunt’s presence before she asked if I was awake. I’ve been this way since I was little. I’ll almost feel someone coming to wake me up and my eyes will open before they can say anything.
We get ready and head out. I’m wearing my favorite black top and red pants that were Rob’s favorite. Only for today am I’m going to wear UGA colors, I think to him. I’m still a Gator fan.
Aunt Teal and I talk the whole way up to Athens. We talk about family members passing, things that we’ve seen and heard. The pieces of puzzles that were empty for me, she’s now filling. I was very young when I lost my great grandparents. I have tiny bits of memories still from them.
We get to Athens, park and walk to the stadium. Shevis finds us and walks us to Rob’s family. I sit between him and Laura. The sun is bright and birds are everywhere. All the graduates are filing in and taking their places in the middle of the lawn.
“How are you?” Shevis asks me.
“I’m alive.”
“Yeah… You know you’re going to see Rob again right?”
“I know. I just, hate that this happened.” I reply.
“I know. He was one of my closest friends. Did you know he lived with me for a few months?”
“No!” I laughed.
“Yeah, we used to go off-roading all the time. Crazy stuff. You know you’ll have to come with us one day.”
“I know! Rob wanted me to go and I said I’d try it but I make no promises!” I laughed.
“I think you’ll like it.” he smiled.
“Where’s the Jeep?” I suddenly ask.
“Um. Robby had it towed to the back of his property. We’re going to take some parts off of it and then take it to a junk yard.” he replied.
I nod. I never wanted to see it again.
Shevis and I talk about our faith and how this whole thing has further solidified it for each of us and how even Rob’s dad has changed some.
“He brought Kate flowers and a card last night when we went out to dinner. He’s never done that before.”
“That’s awesome.” I smile. The ripple effect of this whole situation has been huge.
“I think I see Kate!” Laura pipes up. Shevis calls her and sure enough, it’s her waving to us from the field. I imagine for a moment that it’s Rob next to me instead of my cousin. It’s Rob’s warm arm against mine, it’s his laugh I hear, his smile that lights up my entire being. I remember Rob telling about Kate’s graduation. Never did I ever think it would be me attending without him.
We’re all seated again and I think about Kate and how I know I can’t bring Rob back but I want her know that I promise to try and love her as much as he did. I’ll try to be here for her as best I can.
As the thought leaves my mind, I see a guy several rows down from us wearing a shirt that Rob had, that now belongs to me. I’m filled again with this warm sense of comfort. The feeling would wash over me anytime I was in Rob’s presence. I couldn’t get enough. Makes me smile.
The ceremony ends and Kate eventually finds us. We all laugh, hug and take pictures. She’s got another ceremony to go to. Aunt Teal and I have to get back to Atlanta. Off we go.
At home I feel lost. I go back to the bookstore and buy two copies of the book I bought yesterday. One for mom and one for Rob’s mom. I also got some pictures developed of me and Rob. One in particular makes me smile from ear to ear. It’s him in the driver’s seat of his Explorer, smiling all cute. I didn’t notice it on the camera but after I got it developed, I can see that the way his eyes are, the expression he’s wearing is the same one he always looked at me with. I cry feeling so grateful to have this captured forever to remember how he looked at me. It was the sweetest expression ever.
My computer beeped, letting me know that iTUNES had properly downloaded. I bring my head back to reality and load up music on my Shuffle. When that’s done, I decide to run. I drive to Kat’s condo and park. I run down the driveway and on to the pavement. I decide to run to I-75 from here and back. It’ll be eight miles. I don’t concentrate on that though. I feel something inject itself into my spine, holding me upright, opening my eyes and mind. It pushes energy through the muscles that inhabit my legs and propels them effortlessly forward. Lastly, it fills my heart with such an overwhelming sense of unconditional love that my body trembles and my eyes fill with tears. He’s right here with me. I think to myself. If only I could touch him…
I do my eight miles and feel awesome afterwards. My knees and shins don’t hurt but I’m awfully thirsty. I shower and get cleaned up. The rest of the afternoon is a whirlwind between going to mom and dad’s, my grandmother’s and Rob’s parents.
Home. It’s quiet again. I won’t be waking up at 3am to Rob’s gentle voice next to me saying goodbye before he leaves to drive back to Anderson. I close my eyes...