Aaaaaand you just don’t get it.

Yesterday was the 8th anniversary of BB’s horrible, awful death. Yes, the death part was actually horrible and awful as well as the aftermath. If you recall, I posted last year about how I commemorated the stupid day to make it less stupid, less ridiculous and less hideously obscene. I emailed friends and family about the day and asked them to contribute their thoughts. This year, I put them all together, edited of course, and forwarded that back to everyone.

Some obviously didn’t care to respond last year or said something so stupid I couldn’t include it. This year it continued.

Some didn’t freaking take the time to read or at least comprehend what the crap I was even saying, that this was from the previous year. Missing the mark completely. Why do I try? (SEE ME DOWN HERE, BUD?)

I get responses from some people about how it is sad to miss BB but that I should be so thankful for the life I have now blah blah blah.

Um, YOU don’t get it.

I get responses from others that are truly appreciative but add nothing.

Um, okay.

I get responses that totally miss the mark altogether, telling me how THEY are doing. What exactly DOES fine mean?

Um, nope.

I get NO response.

UHHHH, who ARE you? Jerk.

Don’t get me wrong, there are a few meaningful responses and I truly take them to heart.

But then, I got an email from BB’s BFF today. HE GETS IT. Makes me feel good. And understood.

That our lives really truly are missing something. That even though we do this thing called life, we can’t help but think of what might have been. That we want to remember. That we will not EVER forget. Anything. ANYTHING. YOU hear?

‘and that is that’.

Just Married.

Been thinking a lot about looking back at pictures from Cancun. So I did. I was really, really struck by how freaking fat I looked. In my head I didn’t think I was that heavy then.

Here is a really long preface to the next point.

BB’s grandpa died in 12/00. We had to buy something for him to wear to the funeral. We bought a really nice light navy blue dress shirt with a super cool tie to match. He wore it again in May of 01 to a friend’s wedding. I have a picture of him in it from that day. I remember how handsome he looked and how he seemed to feel nice wearing it.

<SIGH>

When deciding what to send up to the funeral home for him to be buried in, I went with that same get up. His corduroy pants and his American Eagle shoes (bowling pin undies if you must know). But I had sort of forgotten about the undershirt I sent to them. Until I looked through those pictures. I had taken a shot of the BB’s back while still on our honeymoon. The hotel had given us matching shirts that had these flamingos on them and it said “Just Married” across the back on top of the picture. Well, that is the shirt I had them put underneath the blue dress shirt.

I had a rather obnoxious reaction to these pictures yesterday. I was so nauseous. I thought for sure I was going to vomit.

I didn’t. I did shed some tears but that is par for the course.

I didn’t want to forget again. So there you have it.

Certain days.

You know, there are days that just stick in your memory. The kind of days where you remember exactly what you were doing, where you were, what the weather was like… Today is one of those days. I mean, it was. Eight years ago today.

To all of the individuals who suddenly found themselves to be widows/widowers on September 11, 2001, my heart hurts for you. I hope that the path you have found yourselves on has had some happiness. For our whole country will always remember the unspeakable tragedy of that time but your lives, your futures, your dreams were changed in one instant on that day.

The day was Tuesday

The skies were bright blue

My love was sleeping after a long night’s work

GMA suddenly reports that the first tower had been hit.

I woke up BB, we watched in horror together on that green couch.

I had to get ready for work and was in the shower when the plane went down in PA.

That day changed everything. Looking back now, it is just one of those things that defined that horrible period in my life.

I really wish it wasn’t re-lived on the media every single year. I could do without that.

First choice.

It is funny how stuff creeps up. I think this is because I am currently trying to get pregnant and for one reason or another, it isn’t working out. So, I get all bitter, quite introverted (more so than normal) and angry.

I listened to a friend tell me how much he loves his wife and how much he enjoys his marriage. I see it in other couples too- the complacency, happiness, the normalcy, the love. I was just looking at a picture of someone I have never really known but known of for many, many years. She was with her significant other in the picture looking happy and relaxed.

While that is fabulous, it makes me angry.

I realize that I am really in this family making mode. That is what I have always wanted. Babies. A family. While I have a loving husband and an almost 2 year old, I still miss out on that whole happy, loving, normal, relaxed marriage thing. I suppose it isn’t to say that I am not in a happy, loving relationship. It just isn’t with my BB.

As I write this I feel like it sounds spoiled. Many people don’t end up with the person they think they love and want to be with forever. That for whatever the reason, it ends and they find themselves with the love of their life years later and realize it was all meant to work out the way that it did.

Except, that just isn’t me. The owner of a ginormous hole that just can’t be filled. It seems as though it is something I will never come to terms with and that is just a depressing thought. I want that same happiness I see that others have. I know the difference, I had it once.

I guess I just have to figure out a way to deal with that.

What could have been said.

I swear, when I can’t sleep at night, I should just hop on here and go to town. I was up last night thinking of things to write, you know, for my someday book (now entitled The Bravest One).

BB didn’t attend church regularly. Never really had. In fact, when we met to discuss funeral arrangements the guy (incidentally someone BB went to high school with), asked about BB’s religious beliefs, etc. My “other mom” piped in that that was something I would be more familiar with. Hmm.  We didn’t really have any personal people to perform the eulogy for us. I think how it actually ended up happening was that there was a minister of a local church that somehow was also connected to the police department. He was the one who did the eulogy. I can’t remember a darn word he said.

When he was done, someone asked me if I wanted to go up there and say something. Did they actually say something? Anything? Because when you think about it, something and anything are quite different.

I declined.

Brotherman, BB’s elder brother by six years, “took the stand”, talked about him, ripped on me a little and then BB’s boss, one of my best friend’s uncles, took the stage. I can’t remember much of that either.

As I am laying there last night I was thinking of who sat where and so forth. I remember being on the inside edge of the front row directly in front of the casket. To my left were BB’s parents followed by his siblings and their significant others. I think, my mom was right behind me sitting next to BB’s paternal grandparents. To my right and filling about the entire half of that side of the room were BB’s fellow officers. What a day to live in the city they represented. Sure local agencies were covering emergencies and so forth but HELLO speeders galore.

I chose to say nothing. Knowing if I got up there I would faint from the pressure, nerves of being in front of so many people and the sheer fact that I was standing in front of my BB who laid so still.

This all reminded me that at anytime I can remedy this and in fact realized that I have been trying for years. One day I hope to have the time, energy and the emotional reserves needed to jump up there center stage and have my say.

It will go a little something like this…

I adore you.

I have loved you, probably not from the moment we met, but shortly there after.

I have lived the greatest years of my life with you and really wish we could have grown old together.

Your presence in my life has made me a different person, teaching me about kindness, stability and a kind of love that not even death can shake…

To be continued.

When Hell Froze Over.

Picture it. Fall 2001.

BB died. Yeah, yeah.

The next day, my dad arrives at my house from out of state with his wife (who is not my mother).

Simply put, my mom and dad have a very strong relationship.

They are linked by my brother, myself and a thick cable of hatred.

I bet you know the type.

I don’t remember who else was at my house when they arrived. I just know I had on baby blue sheep pajamas, BB’s fisherman hat and that my mom was also at my house. Mark this as a super special occasion in my life. The only time they had been “together” that I could ever remember was at our wedding 6 weeks previous. That was an especially tense day and the wonderful state that is death made this time even better.

Who would have guessed that my parents would ever be in the same house together, (mine!), EVER.

I don’t remember much else about that day. But I do recall the following weekends how my dad and his other half would drive up and help me at the house. I know they assisted with other stuff but yard work was the thing that sticks out in my brain. Remember the GRASS post? One significant day, I think the week of the funeral, we (mom, brother, dad, stepper and myself) were “alone” together at my house. They were raking.

My mom later told me a few interesting things about this time in our lives.

1- my brother came out the day after BB died (good timing, idiot)

2- my dad said something to her like “so, I guess Hell finally froze over…” I am sure this dates back to a conversation they had in my childhood that I am not aware of but you get the point.

I think what really happened was that Hell got lukewarm but heated back up later that year. Things have been back to “normal” ever since.

The real reason for this particular post was two-fold.

One, I had a dream about BB. He was in jail… I am dreaming metaphorically these days I guess. The “charges” were dropped and just as I was about to call my lawyer to get him out of jail, he and his dad show up at our (BB and mine) house.  Interesting.

Two, sometime in the fall of 2001, after the hubbub died down (no pun intended). I remember being on my porch looking at the annoying plants and talking on the phone to my dad. He had started to call daily after BB died… That too ended. Anyhoot… he was telling me that his fav aunt had passed away. I never really knew/know his side of the family. He was saying something like he expected me to attend the viewing/funeral in his place or something like that. I was flabbergasted as back in the day and years following pretty much any mention of funeral homes, hospitals, etc. made me get all shaky/hyperventilaty feeling. I told him in no way would I do that and that it was just too soon.

He quickly remembered what trauma I was going through (how could you forget?) and backpedaled out of that conversation really quickly.

It is not like I wouldn’t typically do something like that for someone. I will do a lot for those I care for. Everybody has limits though and back then I was learning how to redefine all of mine.

I hate being forced to do crap like that.

Stupid death. Stupid selfish people. Stupid Stupid Stupid.

I’m just saying…

I miss you.

Woke up extra early today. Laid in bed thinking about you. I noticed I was laying in the same spot and position as you had been in a pic I have of you back at our house.

So then I started thinking of that opening line to the book. I decided a working title could be something like “My Heart”. Then I considered opening with something to do with the aftermath stuff. I mean, the negligence. Or something to do with my feelings as I was to be called or something dramatic about looking out at the room/people blah blah blah. It always sounds really good and intriguing in my head.

Today is the day that Biffy died. It bites me. I also thought of her as I laid in bed. About the bagel she asked her dad to share with her that morning as the sun was rising. About how he declined and regretted it later. On something, it said that the time she died was 10:41a. Whether it was or not, that is more often than not, the time that it is when I look at a clock. It is ridiculous and makes me mad because it is like a small form of punishment. Pretty much daily.

I remember when she died. I called you. You were working. I can’t remember if you didn’t offer or if you were unable to come to me. I sort of think it was a combo of the two. You reacted in such a surprising way– not really understanding or compassionate. The next day I think of looking out the window and just crying. I feel like it was raining but later that day as I drove up north, it was dry so I am not sure.

The green paint.

The stories.

Her mom outside when we arrived and she was wandering around her yard. Upon seeing us, she just started sobbing. So ridiculously painful.

Today though, not common for the last eight years, I was looking forward to today. There is a special event tonight. I am so happy. Hopefully the memories from tonight will help to put a new light onto things. I think that was probably suppose to be the case six years ago today as well but it wasn’t me getting the gift that day.

This is all rather unfortunate. And so very sad.

I love you.

Blue jeans and a white t-shirt.

BB,

I am missing you something fierce. You and me, we’s like peas and carrots. I don’t know what it is about this time or why it is that I can’t get you off of my mind. I am participating with Relay for Life this weekend. I uploaded a pic to my site of us. The married us, a month before you died. Oh, do I miss you.

I remember when you would come home from work. Coming in the door (memories mostly from the apt. and not the house) wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Even though you were sweaty, tired and sometimes not in the greatest mood, you looked so sexy. Even when all you wore was sweats and a tee with slippers (back in college) you were IT.

M. talked to a neighbor yesterday who works for your former employer. That sentence in and of itself makes me wonder… Did time stop for you when you died so it would be your employer? Or, do you know what is going on and are aware that you don’t work for them now how you used to? UGH. Anyway, even though this person has only been there six years, she knew of you. M. said “my best friend’s husband used to work for “them”. The chick responded… you mean BB?

I was thinking how luck of the dept. has in fact sucked and I am sure my knowlege is quite limited:

Vehicle accident killing officer off-duty

Motorcycle accident severely injuring/disabling off-duty officer

You and your stuff

On duty officer en route to a call hitting and killing 2 people

And the dept. is so small… SO sad.

Anyway, I love you.

Apparently as I have been told, my eyes reveal my wounded soul… nothing has changed. Love you always.

YBG

Old friends

About two weeks ago BB’s best friend was in from out of state visiting BB’s family. I made it a point to pop in to see him. He has had a rough go of it with the loss of his mother too. He didn’t look all that great to me. Seemed tired or worn out or something. We finally got a chance to talk one on one and he told me how the last years have gone for him. I gave him my email and he said he would get in touch when he got back home.

He was true to his word and we have been exchanging emails since. He said some of the most touching things to me in his last email. Some of it I have heard before but coming from BB’s bestest bud, it just meant so much more. He also answered the email questions and I will get to that sometime soon. I hope we are able to keep up with each other. I know BB would be proud.

More to come later. Gotta run for now.

my original email

*Although I fully intend for you to actually read this, there are questions at the bottom I want you to answer if you either a) can’t deal at the moment or b) aren’t much of a reader*

 

As I sat here checking the contacts for this email, my heart began to race and my hands began to tremble. You know, those sorts of things that happen when you become anxious and feel like you want to faint. Yup, that’s me.

 

Today, marks the 7th anniversary of BB’s departure from our lives. How can it possibly have been seven years? In some ways it seems like it was 2 minutes ago and in others as if it has been about 289 years.

 

Anyhoot-

 

In 2002, I decided to put an ‘in memoriam’ ad in the Journal. This will be the first year that I have not done so. You see, every year, I become a crazy person trying to figure out the “perfect” blurb to send in. I feel the pressure to say so much in too few words and it never says enough. Plus, I get wrapped up with the whole who is it exactly that I am writing to? Does anyone even notice? Does it matter? It seems like it should be addressed to BB himself but I figured that if he can read his ‘in memoriam’ ad then he is probably right on top of email and would appreciate it all the same.   My dear friend has been bombarded with me asking her what to write about and has to listen to me complain about the whole thing for weeks proceeding doomsday. This year she asked me why. Why do I do it? I told her something like this…

 

I don’t want people thinking that I have forgotten. That just because I go about my days and live my life that he is very far from my thoughts or anything that I do. That if I could rewind and change a billion things, that I absolutely would.

 

She simply asked me if I was doing it for the right reasons and I realized, I am not. She suggested starting something new and even helped with some ideas for this very novel you are reading. And so it goes… Will you take part in remembering BB with me? I would love it if you would add to this email with your own thoughts/experiences/memories. It would be especially neat if I could share your comments with others as they are collected. Please let me know if this is okay.

 

The ugly…

Leukemia can bite my crank (a BB saying). On 10/6/01 whilst in the hospital, BB and I had planned to watch the Cold War.  It was to be a bright spot in a miserable week. Cold War you ask? Well, MSU was playing a hockey game outdoors at Spartan Stadium. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cold_War_(ice_hockey) It was a big deal you see. Wouldn’t you know it, we didn’t ever really get to watch it because BB was rushed to the ICU hours before it started and things just didn’t go the way we had planned. I could go on and on here but I know we were all “there” together.

 

Every year as the season changes to fall, it all comes back. Sometimes it is bad, really bad. Sometimes it is a constant, dull ache. The sound of windchimes, once it is cold out, reminds me of those lonely nights at my house in ‘01. Lying in bed and hearing mine bang the metal posts of my porch. That creates an anxiety all of its own. The furnace kicking on does the same. Strange, huh? Can you relate?

 

I used to go to the cemetary every single day after he died. I thought, if he were alive I would be with him everyday. Why should this be any different? Sometimes I would just sit there. Amazingly, during the really bad times, someone would show up out of no where. I know they must have been grieving all the same but you really should know just how much that meant to me- to have you there.

 

One time I was trying to assemble a desk at home and I could not do it- I was so frustrated. I just started sobbing because I was thinking if BB had been there, I wouldn’t be having to do it alone. I was so overwhelmed with so many things that the very smallest thing would set me off. I couldn’t take it. And then, there was my friend, popping in for a visit when he lived 25 minutes away. Hugs to you, my friend.

 

I don’t know your personal feelings or beliefs on something like this but I know that BB visited me after he died. It happened the first time that I was alone in my house. I was waking up from sleeping and I know he was there. I know he was telling me goodbye. I can’t explain it. I didn’t see him, I felt him. I sound like a quack here, but that is how it was. That experience has helped me more than you can imagine. I know he is ‘okay’. 

 

Did you know that at the funeral home during the viewing that a flower arrangement toppled over all on its own off of a stand? Seriously, do you remember all of those flowers? The thing misses all the others and just hits the floor. Oddly enough it was from someone that BB didn’t think too highly of (not family or friends). Heh. Anyone remember that happening? BB’s good buddy was up doing the guard thing at that time and my mom had just walked up to talk to him (by not talking to him directly) and said his name as BB used to (like the character on South Park that says “TIMMY!”). Tell me that was just all a coincidence…

 

Okay, enough of the death stuff.

 

I love him. 

 

I love him like you can’t even imagine.

 

There isn’t one day that I don’t think of him.

 

I still wear my rings and am proud to have his last name.

 

BB taught me so much in the time we were together, even still I suppose. He was a caring person and a gentle man. He had a love for life and his family and was a home-body (like someone else I know). 

 

More about us…

BB had dated a girl for about 3 mos. (his longest relationship) in the time before me. My dating record was pretty much the same. He and I met in a Geography class at community college. As it turned out, I thought he was hot… I watched him reach forward to help with the projector one day and his shirt went up a bit and I was like OH MY (TMI for family, I know). I told my friend that I liked this guy and she walked by one day to see who it was and low and behold it was someone she knew and had been in a class with the previous semester. We planned it out the next class day for her to come in to see me and then sort of introduce us. After that introductory day, he sat by me for the rest of the semester which was about a week or so. HA. Being the introvert that I am, I was freaking out because I wanted him to ask me out. I decided that after our final exam, I was going to say something to him. I was a nervous wreck. I had to time our finishing our exams and stuff. So, as we are walking to the parking ramp I ask him if he wants to do something sometime. He responds with “Yeah, give me your number and you can talk to *my friend’s name* and we can cook something up”. WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSE TO MEAN? I gave him my number but then worried that he didn’t like me since he wanted my friend to come too?! He called me a few days later and there was no talk of her so I was relieved! Maybe he had just been nervous?

 

He hugged me after our second date at Don Pablos. Woohoo (another BB thing)!

 

Things took off from there. We were engaged on my birthday in 2000 and married in 2001.

 

Of course it isn’t all that concise and yes, we had 2 really bad arguments over things I don’t even remember. I know that when BB got really mad, he threw his hat across the room. Once was in college and the other on 7/28/01. I know because I took a picture of the flowers he bought me afterward.   We had a good relationship. I could go on and on.

 

My questions to you…

 

How did you meet him?

Will you share a funny memory of him?

A sentimental memory?

Any special habits you remember that he had?

Any little known facts about him?

What was something that he did for you or said to you?

What was something you remember that he loved?

 

 

As if I haven’t rambled on long enough, I’ll start.

 

 

Will you share a funny memory of him?

BB thought he was really funny. I mean he was funny and all but I remember one time when we were at his mom and dad’s house all hanging in the dining room and he and his brother were talking about something. BB always became suddenly more witty in situations like that and I just remember laughing so hard. Like, where did THIS guy come from?

 

A sentimental memory? 

You know how you can say you are happy for someone when something good happens for them? That even though you really are happy for them that it is just more of a superficial type of response?  I remember the first time that I felt happy for someone and felt it so deep down that it was ridiculous. While BB was in the police academy, he had a bit of difficulty passing one of this shooting tests. I think it was a 15ft test. If he hadn’t of passed that, he would have failed. It was his 3rd and final attempt. It was so stressful. Anyway, when he finished that day, he came over and I heard the door open and rushed out when I saw it was him because I was worried. I could tell he had passed and we just hugged and I was so proud and so happy. It was like we were being given the go ahead to our future. The last hurdle was in the past.This is something I have always thought about. I don’t think I did it justice by describing it.

 

Any special habits you remember that BB had?

 He learned to twirl his pencil like Tom Cruise did in Top Gun. He did it all the time. He also bit his nails.

 

Any little known facts about him?

 He slept with his red rubber gun the night before the shoot thing mentioned above. He said he always slept with the football in high school the night before a game and it seemed to work…

 

We were going to name our daughter, when we had one, Kaeley Jo.

 

He loved pizza.

And licorice.

And POP.

 

What was something that he did for you or said to you?

BB was my hero. He was my best friend. He was my strength. He was my world.  Using the word was here has made me get a bit too philosophical. I will stop thinking. 

 

 

Anything else you would like to add? I hope to hear from you. It means a lot to me when people ask me questions about BB. I like to talk about him. I know a handful of you never got to actually meet him but I figured you might like to read all the mumbo jumbo.

 

Love and hugs to everyone. (I made it through, no tears!)