and away we go

As I boarded the plane on the first leg of my trip I tried not to cry. I'd just left everyone I loved (except Andy) behind. I had a seat all by myself in the 2nd row on a little commuter plane where I thought I could stew in my feelings.

Then appeared our flight attendant Shane. Shane was clearly destined for a successful Disney career with his well-delivered comedic script outlining all the flight safety instructions. Smoking is strictly prohibited on this plane. However, feel free to use our only designated smoking area located outside on the wing, so the rest of you can then enjoy today's feature presentation of Gone With the Wind. And my favorite line: ...and if this flight should suddenly turn into a cruise please use the floatation device located underneath your seat.

The next flight wasn't nearly as entertaining. For most of the 4 hours I slept off and on with the help of some earplugs. In my awake moments I thought of Mom. I thought of my sister Lynn and our teary hug last night, and of Annie my drinking buddy, and of leaving Christie behind for a few weeks, and my Maria who I hoped didn't hate me again. And I also thought of Rob who I was sure was thinking of me on such a pivotal day in my life.

Like my mood, the landscape of this United States of America changed every half hour. I love that about flying to California. It's always fun to wake up from a snooze and peek out the window to see some new fascination below you. As I watched the changing scenery I also noticed the shift in my state of mind. I emerged from a little sadness to acceptance to anticipation the more I thought about Andy waiting for me at the airport.

Goddamn, I am moving in with a man! It hits me every once in awhile as if it was a brand new thought. This is huge. There's seriously no turning back now, not that I'd want to. How exciting

this all is. Nine months in the making--what a friggin massive undertaking this has been. And the day really came. I did it. I really did it.

I landed at LAX after one of the best flights Ive ever had. I said to myself I am home, hoping my mother couldn't hear me because surely she'd correct me. Down the escalator I've rode only 3 times including today, and into the arms of my beloved Andy who arrived with his customary welcome bouquet.

Welcome home, Darlin'.

The drive to our new apartment took only 30 minutes. We loaded my things into our arms and headed up the elevator, around the corner and down the hallway to our door where he unloaded everything neatly in the hallway. He unlocked the door, picked me up into his arms and carried me across the threshhold.

the snub

My last chance to see my older daughter Maria before my move to LA was July 4th. I'd invited her to join my mom and me for fireworks (and asked her to bring Christie along as Christie is staying with her until the end of July when she'll join me in LA).

I'd been emotional and a little anxious all day. This was a day I couldn't call. I didn't know whether I'd get a heartfelt hug and 'see you soon in LA' or a fresh dose of guilt. What I did get was not enough of a good thing.

First of all, Maria brought 3 people with her (Christie and 2 friends). I saw them only sporadically through the day with no chance for a private conversation. And then it wasn't until 10pm, right as the fireworks were starting, that Maria and her friends joined us. Of course when the sky is boomin and beamin there's no room for conversation. She was also glued to her best friend the whole time.

I sat behind them on the blanket. I remember thinking that this is the last time for a long time that I will be sitting this close to Maria. I wondered did she care?

Soon the show was over and everyone was folding blankets and gathering their things for the walk back to the car. Christie gave me a big hug to last for the 3 weeks till I would see her again. As Maria started to walk away to her car I tapped her and said hey, time for a hug.

She dutifully turned to me and 'let' me hug her for a brief moment. When I told her I love you Maria, she pulled away and said *Sure* you do.

I was stunned emotionally, but not surprised at her reaction. If I was apprehensive about this day and what it all meant, I'm sure it was even more so for Maria. That's why she brought friends along for distraction and held close to her best friend like a suit of armor.

It was far easier for Maria to choose anger over sadness as anger has been her strength for years...or so she thinks. The thought of us moving 2500 miles away from her is still too much for her to accept. I know it'll take time and her acceptance will come and go, just like her moods.

As much as it sounds like I handled it all, it didn't roll off me so easy. My daughters and their friends walked to Maria's car, the rest of us walked to Mom's car. I walked alone in a crowd so noisy that nobody heard me sobbing into the rolled up blanket I was carrying, no, squeezing for dear life. It felt good to cry.

our last goodbye

For the last 9 months I'd been wondering what it would feel like to see Rob for possibly the last time, to 'say our goodbye'. There were times when I cried just imagining it. More than a few. And his probably outnumbered mine.

Last Saturday we'd gone out to dinner at that Thai restaurant and ran into Annie and her husband out of the blue. Dinner was so-so, to be honest, but we laughed a lot and enjoyed being together. I'd just come out of an extremely enotional week, so the fact that I may have been all out of tears probably helped.

After dinner we went to Rob's house. We didn't drink (also good for keeping the emotions at bay). We talked for a short bit then had a snuggle. Like two kittens we curled up in an old familiar position we'd known for the 4 years we'd known each other. I lay my head on his chest with his arm around me and he touched my hair with his other hand. It was very sweet and comforting, as Rob is. A tear trickled down my cheek onto his shirt, but only one.

I was proud of me. I was proud of us. We didn't drag it out, we didn't purge our souls and pour out our feelings. We didn't need to make it painful. We hugged, and smiled, and I walked away.

Bye for now.

learning what you mean to people

This shouldn't surprise me, but oddly it does, sort of. It's something you kind of know in the back of your mind, but not something you feel very often...

What you mean to people.

It's common to feel your importance as it's reflected back from your children. Especially when they're little, they neeeed you and they appreciate you, and absolutely thrive on your love. They show it often. But adults rarely do, unless they are lovers, of course.

Because I am about to move far, far away, I've started saying some goodbyes. The farewell celebrations have begun, and I am wrapping up loose ends one after another. It is in these times that people reach out in unexpected ways.

The company I work for has a strict policy against going away parties. It was my current boss of 3 years, whom I've often referred to as a witch, that threatened to fire us if we so much as brought a cake into the office for a coworker who had resigned. A pretty strong statement.

So you can imagine my reaction when I found out there was going to be a surprise party for ME after work one night at a winery. And I was absolutely floored when I found out it was my boss's idea. W...o...w. I turned around, buried my head in the computer and got a little choked up where no one could see me. It means something.

This weekend I had my last visit with my naturopath. I haven't blogged about him, but I'll tell ya, he has had a real impact on my life and my health. I love the guy. I'd like to stuff him in my pocket and take him with me to California.

My health is just about perfect because of his incredible knowledge, skill and CARE. He knows my weak spots, the way I think, how I sleep, even my bowel habits. And he's brought me through my life's most challenging times--my separation, dealing with the disappointment of Cam (heartbreak!!), and rejection by my daughter Maria (more heartbreak!), choosing between Rob and Andy...the list goes on. He's helped me heal many times. And my daughters too, on a lesser scale.

When the visit neared an end, he asked for a hug (which is very unusual for him--he's like a little brainiac scientist). Of course, I gave him one. I said how we'd been through a lot together. He said Yeah, you and Christie were my first patients. Nine years ago... He thanked me for those 9 years.

That kinda floored me. We said our goodbyes and he left to see the next patient. As soon as he left the room I wept. I put on my big dark sunglasses and shot out of there so no one would see me bawl like a baby. Which I did all the way home. Gosh...

bye bye beagle

I said goodbye to my velvet-eared friend today. He's in a new home. The long awaited day has come. My neighbors will no longer be able to complain about his incessant barking every time we leave him alone after dark. And Christie and I can now go out somewhere together without taking the dog or worrying about a nasty note being left in our front door.

Yesterday the decision of 'when' was made, followed by tears of guilt. I treated him like golden dog all day. I took him on a special walk through the woods. I looked him in the eyes and told him that everything was gonna be all right. I let him sleep on my bed and wrapped my arm around him, petted him extra special.

Today I moved him and all his stuff to the new place, but I was much happier. I know the people who he'll now live with. They want him, and they really love dogs. Snoop eagerly ran into their house, proceeded to sniff everything, and danced around seemingly up for the new adventure. Or at least that's how I chose to see it.

There are things I am going to miss about Snoop. I know that he did his very best. And I hope he knows that I did mine.

last chance to love

Some people are better than others at doing the tough stuff. They're the ones who are always there to help, whether it be a little old lady trying to cross the street, organizing a fundraiser, rescuing someone in trouble, joining the services to fight for their country, or support a friend in their last days on earth.

No task seems too gruelling for these extraordinary individuals. They think nothing of putting their time, their energy, their emotion, even their lives on the line, for the benefit of others.

I have such a friend. He is forever helping. He is a former Marine, father of four, grandfather of four (so far), and a truly inspirational and loving soul. He lives a simple life, unencumbered by the need to succeed at a career, but the man has riches beyond what most of us will ever have. It certainly may never have been our purpose, but it's clearly his. He is an angel on earth.

Today he posted a photo on Facebook that made me cry. It's a photo of him at the bedside of his dying cousin. My 6'4" burly and bearded friend was photographed embracing the fragile emaciated body of his cancer-stricken cousin and lifelong buddy. The smaller one is resting his head in my friend's strong arm. They both have their eyes closed with smiles that appear somewhat defeated, yet peaceful.

I am moved to tears just about every time I think about it today. I can feel the gratitude of the dying man to have the love, care and comfort of his strong, healthy cousin. Just being there must mean everything to him. To know someone cares that much. To not be alone when it counts most. To help someone pass must be one of the most difficult and emotional experiences of a lifetime. But perhaps it can be a beautiful thing too. Especially if it's peaceful and painless.

We can only hope that we each have our own angel by our side to help ease our passing. I know that that is important to me. And I would like to help all the people I love in the same way. It's the ultimate final gift, wouldn't you say?

farewell, old friend

Today was new car day! Yes, I was really excited about picking up my sporty little car, but I was also sad as I had to retire an old trusty friend.

I caught myself actually talking to her on my way to the dealership. I thanked her for having taken such good care of me and my passengers over the last 7 years, for never breaking down or leaving me stranded on a dark road, for getting me home safely in some God-awful snowstorms, hailstorms, and a near hurricane.

She had a nice big backseat that Rob and I had fucked in a few times, and a front seat that Andy and I kissed in about 300 times (all in one night). I lovingly washed her big black body with my own hands whenever I had time, and got her oil changed regularly, cuz I figured she was worth taking care of.

Yeah, she got old and started to need a few too many repairs, but she still has a bit of life left in her. I asked her to take care of the next owner as well as she took care of me. As I parked her in the dealer's lot I bid her farewell, locked the door, and never looked back.

I signed a few papers and scooted away in my brand new vehicle, sunroof open despite the sprinkles falling from the sky. Onward!