Home Again, Home Again.

We arrived home in three relatively intact pieces at about 6PM last night. 2000 more miles on the car, and a huge personal milestone achieved. I will add a day-by-day overview and pictures, but I wanted to make a start of it.

Saturday 11/19: Got the kids in the car and we were on the road by 8AM. Right on schedule. We made such good time that we stopped in Eugene for lunch with an old friend from High School, Gordon Kelley. We got to meet his "new" wife, Heather, who is a real sweetie. Gordon and I were in an experimental band in college (emphasis mine), Mozart Air Raid. He and Samantha were on the Palo Alto High School rally squad. We had burritos at this groovy little neighborhood hippie restaurant. It was cool. We made it down to Rogue River by about 5PM, and stayed the night at my best friend Randy's sister's B&B. If you're ever in Rogue River, Oregon, check out the Restful Nest. It's on the river in a beautiful setting, and Carolyn specializes in families. The house itself is an ever-evolving craft project, and the food is excellent. She has a huge pig, a shepherd named Foxy and a pug named (what else) Yoda. Showed Carolyn Sam's memorial DVD.

Sunday 11/20: We got a later start than I wanted, but nonetheless hit the road and made up a lot of time. Shasta was visible, and Tyler snapped a few pics from the car. It was really beautiful. Once we passed Yreka, however, I-5 becomes a long, straight road through nothing but brown. Kayleigh counted 17 hawks on the way to Randy & Rose's place in Rocklin. We arrived in the afternoon, grabbed some lunch and prepared to NOT jump in the car and drive somewhere. The house is amazing, a Mediterranean style showcase for Rose's business (she's an interior designer/decorator with a specialty in faux and murals). Lots of tile, big, open downstairs, palatial master suite... very nice. A house like that in the Bay Area would be topping $2.5 million easy. We got in touch with our old mate Chris Oeschger, former bosun of our SCA pirate household. Showed Chris & Randy Sam's memorial DVD, then went out for beers at the local brewpub. Their hefeweizen was awful, but there was a nut brown ale that could stand toe-to-toe with any of our robust PacNW brews. It was good to see Chris again. Hopefully it won't be another 15 years.

Monday 11/21: Randy and I took the kids to see Harry Potter and the Muthaf**in' Goblet of Fire. Despite the amount they had to chop from the book in the interest of time, we sure enjoyed that film. Went and hung out with my aunt Kendra, one of the two remaining children of Kenneth and Hettie Lou Downing now that my dad and uncle Doug are gone. Kendra took Kayleigh and I to the Hallmark store and had Kayleigh pick out Christmas ornaments - one of the things that Sam usually did for them. Had dinner with Kendra's family and Randy. Ate at a little CaliMex place called Dos Coyotes - good food! It's great to have a relationship with my aunt now, despite all the family politics and bullshit that has gone on for decades.

Tuesday 11/22: Headed out I-80 to the Bay Area. Stopped in Fremont/Newark at the home of father/chef/game designer/author/arcade game collector and Palo Alto High School buddy Colin Fisk and his wife Margaret. Chilled with the Fisks and their two boys, and another Paly friend, Sara (Mack) Stafford and her two youngest. Sara left, and Colin made us some lunch - then he and I watched Sam's memorial DVD together while the kids played in the garage "arcade" (Colin's collection of stand-up arcade videogames). Any of our buds in the Bay Area can contact Colin for a copy of the DVD, now that he has one. We hopped back in the car and headed across the Dumbarton Bridge (which I used to take every day when Sam & I lived in Fremont) into Palo Alto.

What a heartbreaker that was.

Drove past Sam's old house (or rather, the house standing where hers once stood), drove past my old house on Sutter (which we just sold). The new residents were home, and I asked the kids if they wanted to see the inside. I knew the buyers would let us take a quick peek. The kids declined, and I struggled with wanting to at least go and introduce myself. "This house has a lot of history... this is the driveway where Samantha and I kissed for the first time. This is the bedroom where I lived and made music and art and had sex for the first time (and many times after), the backyard we transformed into a medieval encampment for the first Kings film project, the pool where I had my 17th birthday (with Sam present)..." And then I realized... why? That means nothing to anyone but me. Those events really TRULY only had relevance to two people in the world, and one of them is gone. That leaves me, and I don't need to dwell on those past events. Just driving up to the house was a marker. That was closure enough for me.

I realized while driving around my old town that no matter how crowded and developed the place has become, it now feels profoundly empty. All that remain are ghosts of happier times, that don't synch up with the reality of now. As Luke Skywalker once said to Obi Wan, "There's nothing for me here now..."

We met another Paly friend, Marte Matthews, who is married to yet another Paly friend, Paul Means. She brought their son Jonathan (now almost 5), and together the 5 of us converged on the Klutz book headquarters in Palo Alto. Our family has a connection to the Klutz empire by way of my dad's cousin, children's entertainer Nancy Cassidy. She's recorded several albums of kid's songs, and her husband John kicked off their product line with Juggling for the Complete Klutz (and still runs the operation today, even though Klutz is now owned by Scholastic). My sister's friend Mindy works there, and she gave us a tour. It was very cool, and the kids had a blast in the craft room. They now have a set of construction cards with which you can build a medieval castle - guess what Tyler immediately gravitated to.

Went to Rengstorff Park in Mountain View and met Paul. Hung out with him for awhile and chatted. Paul was one of a select few people who got to know Sam at all in high school, and we used to party in our college years. Plus, he's a good Scot, and that goes a long way with me.

Met Sam's parents at Aldo in Los Altos. A truly prima Italian restaurant in every way, Aldo is owned by Donato and Marlene De Marchi. Marlene was a friend of Sam's in high school, and when she heard of Sam's death, she contacted me via email. Marlene held a benefit dinner at her San Francisco restaurant in conjunction with the Palo Alto High School Class of 1985 twenty-year reunion, and raised a very helpful amount of money for Sam's memorial fund, which has helped us get rid of some medical and related debt from Samantha's cancer fight. Marlene hosted us for dinner with her kids and Donato's father. Donato was working the kitchen and the tables, but kept appearing to check on our dinner. What an incredibly gracious and friendly man! The food was unbelievably good. Tyler, who is possibly the pickiest 11-year-old on the planet (and those of you with 11-year-olds know that's saying something!), had TWO servings of ravioli. We waddled off to Sam's parents' place, a condo/townhome where the Old Mill 6 movie theater used to be. You know, the place I worked in high school, where Sam & I went on our first date. Got the kids involved with stuff and left them in the grandparents' care while I went and met drummer pal Steven Fox for a couple beers at the Boardwalk, an old hangout of ours on El Camino. Whew! That was a day, and then some.

Wednesday 11/23: Got the kids in the car and headed over the hill to Santa Cruz. Drove by my old house off Pasatiempo Drive, where I lived just prior to moving to Palo Alto. Went down to Capitola and took the kids to lunch at Erik's Deli on 41st Ave. As with Palo Alto, more people and less ambiance... less feeling of belonging. Granted the 8 years I spent living there (1976 to 1984) were a long time ago, and a lot changed after the Loma Prieta quake. It was, on the whole, less painful than Palo Alto, as I didn't have as many Sam-related memories to be triggered there. Went out to the home of my oldest friend with whom I remain in contact. David Beach lives in Santa Cruz, not far from the Mystery Spot, with his wife Jane, daughter Audrey, son Isaac, a cat whose name eludes me, and mammoth dog Thurston. We caught up while the kids played outside in the trees. Showed Dave & Jane the memorial DVD (what are we up to now, 4?). Left Dave with some Deep7 books and a couple of my Impetus CDs. Hopefully it won't be another 8 or more years before we see them again.

Went a few miles down the windy Soquel roads and arrived at my uncle Russell's place. He's on the side of a hill, and you can look in a 360-degree turn and not see a single other home. They're THERE, just hidden in oaks and such. And he's got a view of Monterey Bay and the peninsula beyond. It just so happened that his two sons were home - Aaron had moved back from Chico with his fiancee, and Noah was home before starting his masters program at school. We went out for beers at a local joint near the Rio theater, where we used to go see movies all the time... hell, I saw The Empire Strikes Back there with my dad and Russell when it first came out. It was good to reconnect with my cousins, who I'd not seen since our wedding. Noah actually caught Sam's garter. We had a good dinner with Russell, the boys, Aaron's fiancee Alyssa (hope I spelled it right) who is a fantastic artist, and Russell's wife Gan Neh Na (a truly radiant soul). We watched Sam's DVD (#5 for the trip, and my 2nd time for the day), and then Russell pulled out this video from 1987. It was Thanksgiving, the 100 year celebration of the Downing family being in the Santa Clara valley. My uncle Doug was alive. My dad. Samantha. They were all there. Almost everyone was drinking. And drinking. And drinking. Sam & I were joined at the hip as if to say "watch my back - I'm not safe here". It was incredible to watch the politics and the interactions unfold at an event I'd completely blocked from memory. Still, good to have the time capsule. I'm dumping it to DVD for Russell, and saving the bit with Sam for my archives.

Fell asleep to the sound of coyotes in the hills.

Thursday 11/24: Thanksgiving Day. Awoke to the braying of the neighbor's donkey. Hung out with the family a bit at breakfast and Russell let the parakeets out so the kids could see them fly around. Said our goodbyes and headed back to Mountain View for Thanksgiving with Sam's parents. One the one hand, it was very strange not having Samantha there at Thanksgiving. It was also sad not having my father to call. And Sam's brother and sister-in-law were in Vegas, so it was just Carol, Gerry, the kids and me. We had the standard fare, and it was good. We had some wine I'd brought down from Bainbridge Island. We talked. It was a good day. Got a nice phone call from my friend Jennifer in Mississippi... only now she's in Florida. She was a mutual high school friend of Sam's and mine, a former cheerleader and theater geek.

Earlier, I'd found a photo of Sam I'd never seen before, and asked for a scan of it. When Carol popped the frame open to get it out, we discovered another handful of photos I'd never seen!! We had pie and watched the Travel Channel for awhile, then I put the kids to bed as we had to make an early start.

Friday 11/25: Awoke at 3AM for some reason. Tossed and turned for 2 hours, then got showered and dressed. Gerry and I braved the Black Friday shopping crowds at San Antonio Shopping Center for a 7" portable DVD unit at Radio Shack. We heard of fistfights breaking out over cheap laptops at Wal Mart. We went to Target and grabbed a handful of movies for the kids for the trip home. Thank God we were on foot. When we got back, the kids were still sleeping, so I walked next door to the Safeway and grabbed some doughnuts for breakfast (because I'm a bad father). Saw my old Paly media studies teacher, Mr. Thompson, on his way out. He looked eerily the same as he had 20 years ago. I got the kids up, we ate doughnuts, and we jumped in the car for the trip home.

This time, we went up 101. Down Van Ness in San Francisco, over the Golden Gate Bridge and over to the coast. We made fairly decent time. Nature unloaded the hardest rainfall I think I've ever driven through, but I have good wipers and traction/stability control, so we pressed on. Once across the border in Oregon, things along 101 get very curvy and winding. Because of the weather, darkness and twisty roads, I don't think I got out of 4th gear for 20 miles. So it was almost amusing when I got pulled over by a smokey in Bandon for 70 in a 55. Amusing mostly because I can't do more than 60 in 4th gear without being close to redlining. Also amusing because when Sam and I were driving down the coast many years ago, she was pulled over in Bandon for speeding in the Isuzu pickup. I think it must be one of the only sources of revenue they have, poor dears. So I will write a little letter to that effect and if I still have to pay the ticket and ruin a decade's perfect driving record, c'est la vie. And next time I go to Oregon, I'll skip Bandon altogether.

We made camp in a Motel 6 south of Florence, in the only room they had left - a smoking room. Bleh. About 10PM, the skies opened and a solid curtain of hail came down in the parking lot. It rained ice so hard, some actually bounced UP into the vents and came into our bathroom.

Oddly enough, except for smelling like an ashtray, I got the best night's sleep in that Motel 6 bed.

Saturday 11/26: Awoke at 7AM, showered the smoke-stink off me, and just threw on my old clothes (which totally defeated the purpose of showering the smoke off in the first place). Piled the kids into the car and headed north. We had breakfast in a charming little greasy spoon where Tyler ate like a horse. At one point, we looked up to see it raining outside the south half of the restaurant, and totally sunny and clear outside the north half. Went through Florence (for the second time this year), got some coffee and a couple pairs of headphones for the DVD player. Then off to the Sea Lion Caves. Most of the adults were out in the water, but we did get to see two adult females and a pup in the main cave. Hooked a right and headed over toward Portland, had lunch just shy of I-5, then headed north for home.

Being a holiday weekend when apparently everyone in Washington is visiting relatives in Oregon, we got to sit in a red snail track from south of Olympia to north of Tacoma. Finally arrived home to a very excited dog and a house in chaos (hey, I didn't get Caleb to clean it, just feed the animals and make sure we weren't robbed).

The results of the journey were many, and varied. We drove through three states, counted 27 hawks and 5 rainbows. I realized that part of my perception of Sam's parents was based upon Sam's perception of them. I also REALLY got the message that California is not my home. Aside from the very occasional visit to a dear friend or relative, I really don't feel like I ever need or desire to go back there. It made me appreciate my real home (here in Seattle) a lot more. I drove 2000 miles with two kids in my car (and they were fantastic, BTW). No other adult to help with discipline or driving or cost. And we all got home safely. I arrived home to a house in the disarray in which we left it, and the inspiration to do some serious winter purging. And some of the last bits of equipment for my studio/office arrived while we were gone, so I'll be VERY busy for the next few weeks finishing the space.

Hit the Road

We're prepping for a road trip to California, the kids and I. Spending Thanksgiving week visiting family and friends. This is long overdue.

I will have the laptop along and may be able to post during next week, but have patience if you don't see anything. There will be a full report when we get back!

Have a wonderful, joyous holiday. This will be a strange one without Sam and my dad around. I expect we'll get through it, but it will be strange nonetheless.

Off to bed - much to do in the morning.

Blackjack

21 years.

Listening to the new Kate Bush CD and cooking a feast for my gaming buddies. Trying not to give into the pain gnawing at my heart. Bought some beer at the store tonight, so will raise a toast later.

I miss you, Sam. Part of me will forever remain incomplete without your physical presence in my life. Though I may continue on and learn to live fully in time (as you wanted me to), part of me - the eternal 16 year old boy - will always be yours. That part of me left this plane with you. Treat him well. He represents my love that will be with you always.

November Kiss

Today's title comes from a track on my latest CD, Impetus - Triskelle. It signifies that magical moment when two awkward teenagers kissed in a suburban driveway and a relationship was born.

I'll keep today's entry short, as the event is too intense to talk about in great detail. I will instead quote from an email to my high school friend, game designer and writer Jason Sinclair:

Today, 21 years ago, Samantha and I had our first kiss in the driveway of my dad's house in Palo Alto. It's these memories that are the hardest - the early parts of our relationship... The learning curve, the experimentation, and much happier, more innocent times. I miss her terribly. It sucks that the loss of my dad is essentially a footnote in all this, but he and I were on good terms, and it's natural for your dad to die before you. There's continuity there. But it's not natural for your 35 year old wife to be diagnosed with cancer and die gasping for her last breath in your arms not three years later.

Rock Me, Amadeus

Well another wonderful Blogger moment and the very carefully crafted post I'd just spent an hour on goes up in a poof of nothingness. I think the term rhymes with "clucking bell".

What I'd said was that today marks 21 years since Sam's and my first date. Two days later, we were together. I don't know how significant that sounds to those outside, but it seems pretty monumental to me, especially since we grew up, went to college, moved two states away and raised a family. You don't often get that from a 16yo boy and a 17yo girl. Once you get past the horny factor, you have to rely on your personalities and interests meshing to a certain degree.

So I thought I'd let Samantha relay the events of that weekend from a 1985 journal entry. The only discrepancies are that she didn't remember the movie (Amadeus) and we didn't go to another movie the following day with Randy and Dave. We went to pizza. She also puts the date of our union as November 10th, which was when we had our first kiss. Subsequently we always celebrated our anniversary as November 11, the day when she came over and we had the following conversation:

Me: So... are we, like, together now?

She: I think so.

Me: Cool.

She: If you want to be...

Me: Yeah, no, that's totally cool.

She: Great!

And thus the deal was sealed. Ah, young love. Here's how she tells it...

Anyway, on Novemmber 10, Todd Downing and I got together, though I had been wanting to get together with him for weeks. He's 6'4", blonde, blue eyes. A real sweetie. I want to write down all I can remember about that night. Friday night, November 9, Todd and I went to a movie at Old Mill. I can't remember what movie we saw. Anyway, we were early so we went to get ice cream at Cecil's. After the movie we went to Lyon's for hot chocolate. We talked a lot about a lot of things. Mostly life and psychic-ness.

The next day I was going to help him move into his new house (he's 16, it's more like his parents' house) and meet his two old friends Randy and David. Well, we all went to see a movie together and when we got back, we went inside for awhile. Todd walked me out to my car. He hugged me and I said, "I think I'm falling in love with you." It took so much courage to say that. I was afraid he would be scared off. He just held me for a minute, then he said something to the effect of, "I thought so." He was glad too, I think, that I said it. I knew I had to 'cuz he wasn't going to. Someone had to say something!

He gave me three simple, fumbling kisses (neither of us was quite sure what to do, I think) and walked, or floated, to his house. It was wonderful to watch him walk away. It was probably one of the happiest moments of my life.

Velvet

Her skin is like velvet
Her face cut from stone

Her eyes when she's smiling

Will never reach home

But hear how she sings

Her touch would be tender

Her lips would be warm

But when we're together

I'm always alone

But hear how she sings

But hear how she sings

Hear how she sings

Her skin is like velvet

So I went to her home

Her place like a palace

With things you can't own

Her skin is like velvet

And hear how she sings

Hear how she sings...

- A-ha

Party Pics!!

Tres amigos - Johnny Cash, Captain Mad Jack MacMadd, and Ellie May the farmer's daughter

(you know, from the traveling salesman jokes...)

Who needs a church key to open a beer when you've got Wolvie at the party??

Steve pimped out as the Kingpin. They say that Kingpin is one baaad mutha -

SHUT YO MOUTH!

Although Brian is a Roman Emperor, he has a little Captain in him...

The Liger that savaged Red Riding Hood didn't attack Napoleon Dynamite, because he's pretty good with a bo staff...

Halloween Scariness

I debated whether or not to post on this subject. But the way I see it, it's a key part of the widda experience, and should be talked about. Besides, Lisa already talked about her back-in-the-saddle experiences over on her blog (see Nothing Good About Grief), and that's given me some courage. And I can discuss it in abstract, non-specific terms so as not to offend.

So Friday was the weekly RPG session with the guys. Allan couldn't make it, but Mike, Jordan, Ron and I had a blast. Lots of humor, bad puns, good food, a bit of cerebral adventure. Felt like we were channelling our buddy Hans, who used to be the life of any game, but who has resided in San Diego working for Sony for the past few years. He is a painfully-missed member of the comedy team.

Saturday, both kids went to their respective sleepovers. LA arrived, followed by Caleb, and the three of us trekked north to the Comic Stop for their costume party. I was a pirate, Caleb was Johnny Cash, LA went as a cowgirl (great belt buckle, BTW). Steve (Kingpin), JD (Wolverine), Brian M. (Nero), George (Lex Luthor) and James Taylor (himself) were there - the inker and comic mogul James Taylor, not the singer-songwriter. Casey Jones from the Mutant Turtles was also in attendance, as well as Napoleon Dynamite and Red Riding Hood (after the wolf got through with her). There were also the requisite jedi and miscellaneous theme costumes. Seattle rockers M-Set played live. There was beer, pizza, Halloween candy and geekery. It was fun.

And, if I can put this in the most clinical, abstract terms possible, later on there was the first physical intimacy I've had with anyone since Sam. Anyone other than Sam, actually, unless you count mouth-kissing with my first-grade girlfriend or slow-dance groping with my junior high prom date (which I don't). Now this kind of thing always has a tendency to create drama in a relationship, especially where there isn't technically a relationship. But it was a very positive experience. For one thing, it was good to know everything still worked, and I didn't have to look at the instructions again. Like riding a bike, for lack of a better metaphor. For another, it felt so good to be wanted. I haven't felt that in a long time, since Sam & I weren't able to have that really passionate intimacy for the last several months of her life.

We've agreed that we will cool off the physical interactions for the time being, since I'm still not in a place where I can offer an emotional attachment to go with the physical. I've never been this compartmentalized in my thinking. I was always that sappy sex-equals-love guy. This must be one of the self defense reactions that comes with the experience, being able to pick up a fragment and examine it without having it affect any of the other pieces. She, however, is not wired the same way, and I totally understand that she needs the emotional factor from me in order to proceed. But since I still can't give that (and she is well aware of that fact), we need to step back to the platonic side of the fence. And that's okay.

I feel we can do that. We're consenting adults who had a good time. Nobody cheated on anyone. Nobody did anything they didn't want to do. It felt totally natural and positive. And my respect for her is not diminished in the least. In fact, the converse is true. She is very kind and respectful of the path I walk. No matter what happens, I will always be grateful for what she has done for me in my healing process. I hope to maintain a close friendship, whatever that ends up looking like.

So... on with life.

The next two months are incredibly busy for me. I have meetings every day this week, including my producer on Duo. I have about 4 projects being juggled currently, although Ordinary Angels can be scratched off the list. Pending revisions, the script is done. November 4th, I have lunch with a friend of the family, a recent addition to the cancer widower club. November 11th would have been Sam's & my 21st relationship anniversary. November 12th marks 7 months since Sam died. The week of Thanksgiving, I'm taking the kids on a road trip to California to visit friends and family, and have T-day with Sam's folks. December is holiday madness all month long, and the first Christmas without Samantha in my life since 1983. I expect it'll be empty for the kids without their mom. I know it'll be empty without my dad.

Dreary Seattle fall day... thank goodness I have some M-Set to listen to.

Sailboat Races

I had a dream about my dad last night.

More specifically, it was a dream in which he was the central subject, however I never saw him. It seemed to be more about my stepmom, in all honesty. The basic setting was along the California coast, in Santa Cruz where I lived from ages 8 to 16. My dad was apparently sailing in a race from San Francisco to Santa Cruz, and was in radio communication with my stepmom, who I guess was in a chase boat with her brothers.

I kept getting calls from my stepmom on my cell phone, even though I could hear my dad's voice just fine over the radio... the radio I didn't have. But I could hear him. He was working hard for his team. He was giving me play-by-play commentary. Or rather, he was giving out the commentary and it was like I could hear it on a scanner. I couldn't radio back, couldn't communicate with him. But I could hear him fine.

I just kept climbing around the cliffs that overlooked the ocean, searching for signs of my dad's boat, which never came within visual range. At one point, my stepmom called me on the cell, telling me what was going on with Dad. I told her I knew because I could hear him on the radio, and she didn't need to use her cellular plan minutes to basically repeat what he was saying and doing. She said she'd been taking pictures of the race from the chase boat, and that Dad's boat was in the lead in the home stretch. Then I saw her chase boat - it came in extremely close to the cliffs, and she saw me and raised her camera to take my picture. In doing so, she almost lost her balance and toppled overboard, but was hauled back by one of her brothers.

The meaning seems pretty clear to me. I still feel connected to my dad even though he's not visible to me, and I feel like sometimes my stepmom gets distracted by focusing on what's going on with me, and forgets her own precarious state. At least, that's how I interpret it.

For some reason this post was harder to write than I thought it would be. A lot of the time I'm very preoccupied by the loss of Sam. Today, I really miss my father.

Grumble.

This sucks. It seems like all I've been doing is finding fault with corporate cogs and complaining about it. The Nokia thing was just the tip of the iceberg. Yesterday I sat in traffic for an hour and a half to go up to Northgate to the title company - supposedly for signing the paperwork on my refi. But the docs that came through were completely botched. I won't go into the details, but it was not the deal the mortgage officer and I had agreed on. To her credit, she copped to the error and had a new set of docs drawn up. The title company had to courier the docs to my home late yesterday, and are couriering (is that even a word?) them back today. However there were still other sins of omission, and the whole thing has left me drained and on edge - and cancelling part of the loan.

What is it about widowhood that has hardened me to the workaday drone culture and made me even less likely to suffer fools? I think I probably just answered my own question. I mean, Samantha and I were always gracious, even when confronted with overt incompetence, be it in a financial institution, service or bureaucracy. But now I feel like I want heads to roll. I paid more for a phone upgrade on PRINCIPLE than it would have cost to just replace the generic USB cable with the manufacturer brand. WTF?! Do I need to find fault and punish the faulty because of some wacky sense of vengeance or whatever? Am I so hypersensitive to the fact that I'm flying solo - that I no longer have Samantha watching my back - that I have to go on the offensive in order to avoid being taken advantage of? The loan officer at my mortgage company apologized profusely for the way this had run, and I didn't stop her once. I just let her grovel. And although I feel somewhat vindicated (and that there were legitimate problems with the process that I had the right to be angry about), it really doesn't change anything.

Except that now I feel like a complete dick.

In other news, Tyler's homeroom teacher dropped by to tell me how much of an improvement he's seeing. And Kayleigh surprised me by plucking out the first part of the guitar solo on Tapestry on her little electric guitar. I'm coninuously blown away by these kids - when they're not killing each other or conspiring against me with the dog, they're just about the coolest human beings on the planet.

Feeling slightly overwhelmed at the mo. House is a mess, despite how often I clean up. Gilda's group tonight. That'll be interesting. Guess I just need to hold on for the ride.

New Kia, But No New Nokia...

So the new Nokia 6102 cell phone I got takes pictures. Neat. Except when trying to send them to my email address, the email comes through without the picture attached. So I get on the phone with Nokia customer service. "Hmmm, this is strange. We haven't had any complaints with this phone regarding picture transfer..." Yes, but this model has been out for like FIVE MINUTES, as everyone keeps telling me. "I can help you. Let me just... oh wait. We don't appear to have the manual for this phone in the call center yet. Did I mention it's a really new model?" So I get transferred to tech service, and a guy starts a trouble ticket for me, says the techs working on the issue will be calling me several times over the next couple days to resolve the problem.

That was Wednesday. Nothin'. Crickets.

So I decide maybe I can circumvent the problem by direct dumping to my computer via USB cable. Unfortunately, I made the tragic error of buying a 3rd party cable for $25, thinking foolishly that it would do what it said it would do. Lo and behold, the cable worked fine. My box saw a USB device on the other end. But the Nokia PC software suite (which is supposed to install the drivers and whatnot), just sat there and glared at me because I wasn't using a freakin' NOKIA BRAND CABLE.

Or at least that's what the tech said when I again called Nokia customer service. But he was quite happy to sell me the $50 cable, which he could not guarantee would work better than the $25 generic cable.

So by this point, I've had it with Nokia's less-than-stellar service. The hardware itself is great - it's a really good phone. But do I want to deal with a manufacturer who is certainly hot to push out new products but has no support for them?? On principle, I return the $25 cable to Radio Shack, return the Nokia 6102 to my local Cingular store (where the same two guys always give us great service), and upgrade to a new Motorola V551 with Bluetooth.

I just have to say this...

Hello, Moto.

The guy at the Cingular store very patiently puts his own SIM chip into my new phone so it will operate, while I send the pictures from my old phone to my new phone. I go to CompUSA and get a $30 USB Bluetooth adapter and install the Bluetooth software.

In less than 10 minutes of getting home, my phone and my computer are talking, and I copy the photos off the phone, and transfer a custom .mp3 ringtone to the phone. The ringtone is an a cappella snippet of Samantha's vocals from Devil's Lullaby.

So a big cupping of the crotch to Nokia's customer service, and kudos to Motorola, the guys at the Cingular store, and Bluetooth technology.

Next time, something of substance, I promise.

Undead Undead Undead

Today's title comes from a lyric in the classic goth anthem "Bela Lugosi is Dead", by the proto-goth band Bauhaus. Formed in England in 1978, they released 4 albums and a bunch of singles, many of which charted in the UK and made them one of the most influential rock bands in recent history. They appeared in the Tony Scott vampire romance The Hunger (with David Bowie, Susan Sarandon & Catherine Deneuve), playing this trademark theme song in the nightclub opening. As is so often the case, the candle that burns brightest burns half as long, and the act broke up in 1983, the year before I got into them. I did have the fortune of seeing 3/4 of the band in their incarnation as Love & Rockets, once in 1986 opening for Siouxie & the Banshees, and once in 1987 with Jane's Addiction opening for them. But I was always kind of sorry I never had the chance to see the original Bauhaus do their thing onstage.

Last night, I got that chance.

I will start by saying the show probably lacked the intensity of drug-fueled, frenetic early '80s goth wackiness (as evident in a 1982 concert video I have), however I personally found it far more satisfying that all four guys are much better musicians, play more tightly and rock HARDER now than they ever did previously. I kept forgetting that all these guys are pushing 50, and with the exception of vocalist Peter Murphy (who has never exactly presented the picture of health), none of them look like they've aged in 20 years.

The show kicked off with guitarist Daniel Ash striding onto the stage in big boots and a sleeveless leather trenchcoat, with his mirror-finish electric (one of his more famous Love & Rockets axes), cranking out the riffs to "Burning From the Inside", the title track to their final studio album. He was joined by Murphy, who growled out the words like they'd just been written. They were then joined by bassist David J. and drummer Kevin Haskins, two brothers who form one of the tightest rhythm sections in rock. The lights were VERY well done, combining pin spots, floating follow spots, red and white strobes and yes, even rotating gobos! The sound was LOUD, which is why I brought latex earplugs for my crew. With the plugs, the sound was good, and David's bass kept vibrating my ribcage. It tickled.

Murphy no longer swings from curtains and twirls like a demented pixie. But he's still rail thin and can strike those pensive poses with the best of them. Heck, aside from Bowie, this guy invented quite a few of those poses the youngsters use today. His thinning hair is now bleached blonde, and he sported a black 1930s classic look - slacks and a high cut jacket. Ash looks pretty buff - I guess living in LA has given him some biceps and a bit of a tan. J. still has the blonde bowl cut and shades, dressed in a black turtleneck and trousers with his ubiquitous fretless bass. Haskins was hard to see buried in his drum kit, but my field glasses revealed the same intense, almost eerie concentration in his intricate drumming.

I can't recall the exact order of the set list, but they did at least the following (forgive me if I've missed any): "Burning From the Inside", "God in an Alcove", "The Man With X-Ray Eyes", "In Fear of Fear" (which had Ash running around the stage abusing a saxophone), "Kick in the Eye", "Hair of the Dog", "Terror Couple Kill Colonel", "Hollow Hills", "Silent Hedges", "In the Flat Field", "Stigmata Martyr", "She's in Parties", "Rose Garden Funeral of Sores", "The Passion of Lovers", "Swing the Heartache", and "Dark Entries". For their first encore, they did "Slice of Life" and "Telegram Sam", and their final encore consisted of all 9+ minutes of "Bela Lugosi is Dead".

My only disappointments were that they didn't do "Spirit", my favorite track of theirs, nor did they do their famous cover of David Bowie's "Ziggy Stardust". But I have to say I was satisfied with the range of material from across their four albums. And I was struck by, despite how minimalist their arrangements always were, how intricate their music turns out to be. And, if I can pretend to be Stephen Colbert for a moment, possessed of some serious "rockitude" (which is a combination of rocking and attitude).

The Paramount is an old 1920s movie palace, and I've had the good fortune to have seen Dead Can Dance and Cocteau Twins there. I went to the show with LA, Caleb and Miriah. LA had heard of Bauhaus previously, and schooled herself with a crash course via compilation CD and former goth friends. Caleb, 22, was born the year they split up, but has felt their influence in the alternative rock that he grew up with (he also has a healthy respect for antiquity, which is why I keep him around). Miriah, 18, is a rabid Bowie fan, and went into this pretty much blind, except for said compilation CD and some historical perspective from me. All four of us left happy. The audience was full of 30 and 40-something goths and former goths (art rockers, shoegazers, whatever), and you could tell they all had a relaxed vibe and sense of humor about their history. The T-shirt kiosk took credit cards, there was no opening act, the band went on at 8:10 and played for 2 hours. We were home by 10:30.

It was the perfect rock show for Creepy Old Guy and His Friends. I just wish Sam could have been there to see it with me.

Lost and Found

Been battling another headache. I'm not taking care of myself. It's the return of seasonal affective disorder (SAD), an all-too-common condition in the PacNW. No wonder we have such a thriving goth and fetish community in Seattle - it's dark outside and there's nothing to do.

I was going through some piles in the office and ran across a roll of photos I'd recently had developed. Among the pics was a shot one of the kids had snapped of Sam at the dining table on some lazy, grubby Saturday morning in about 2002, pre-diagnosis. At least that's my best guess. No date stamps on these. She's wearing her red paisley stretchpants and her black T-shirt that says INDIAN TERRITORY with a picture of the entire western hemisphere (a gift from our friend Mike S.). The ones where she's bald and looking like a renegade from a George Romero movie set don't bother me as much, because that's my most recent frame of reference. That's the battle. That's the reality of death-by-cancer. But the photos where she's healthy looking and happy make me sad, because her body is already sabotaging itself and she has no clue. Neither of us saw it coming. 35 year old women don't get the kind of cancer that shows up in 65 year old males.

Had a really good day yesterday. Found a jacket at Target (I own a half-dozen sweatshirts and a winter parka, but no jacket). Then I went down to the local family-owned computer shop and ordered my new business workstation, then took Kayleigh to dance class and walked across the street to the Cingular store, where I picked up a new cell phone for the business. Came home to find notification that the Triskelle CD had gone up for sale. Christmas in October! Sweet!

Today feels quite a bit more dominated by a sense of ennui. And the headache is probably caffeine withdrawal. See, I'm a terrible addict. I don't treat caffeine with any respect whatsoever. Some days I can have 2 mochas, some days a black tea, other days nothing at all. And I don't drink soda. It's so random I think my body works up an addiction and then throttles me when I blithely go a day or two without any. Gee, why do I have this nagging headache? Go figure. At least it's not the battle Caleb is fighting with nicotine. Go, C! You're freakin' Superman!

No group for me tonight. I just don't have the energy. Like pouring alcohol in an open wound, it'll disinfect the tissue and make healing easier in the long run, but it hurts like hell. Actually, it's much more like a good old fashioned Scottish wound-searing. 1) Remove arrow or other foreign object; 2) Drink a lot of whiskey; 3) Press red-hot iron into wound; 4) Scream like you've never screamed before, pound the douchebag who stuck you with a red-hot iron (preferably over the head with the bottle of scotch). There. Your wound is cauterized and can scar over with less chance of infection.

Now aren't you glad you read my blog today? It's so educational!

More Dreams

Actually had a dream with Sam in it this last weekend. Couldn't tell you what the context was - I was just happy to see her again. She appeared much younger in this one, about 21 or 22.

Woke up at 5AM again, closed my eyes for what seemed like an instant, and the clock had skipped ahead to 7AM and the CD was playing. Weird. I guess temporal/spatial anomalies are de rigeur for widdas.

On the way back from the chiro, I thought I'd do a nice deed and grab some coffee for my neighbor Darlene, who often watches my kids when I need to be somewhere. So I dropped it off (to her utter surprise), and went back to my car. The moment I put it into gear, the carry-tray from Starbucks I'd placed on the passenger floor for stability upended, soaking the floormat in caramel mocha. I guess the new rig has been christened. I knew I couldn't keep it pristine forever. And, hey, it's almost been a whole month! Sheesh.

Aaaaanyway, not much to report for now. It's a nose-to-the-grindstone kind of week. Did some dishes and laundry, got some more work done on Ordinary Angels. I'll probably post once or twice this week, and Friday night is Bauhaus at the Paramount! Thanks Randy!!

She Runs Away

You may not see the end of it

But luckily she comes around

It isn't what she talks about

It's just the way she is

(...and she says)

"Ooh darlin' don't you know

The darkness comes and the darkness goes"

(she says)

"Ooh babe why don't you let it go?

Happiness aint never how you think it should be so"

I mystified the simple life

I covered up with consciousness

I saw myself and broke it down

'Til nothing more was left

She saw the symptoms right away

And spoke to me in poetry

"Sometimes the more you wonder why

The worse it seems to get"

(...and she says)

"Ooh darlin' don't you know

The darkness comes and the darkness goes"

(she says)

"Ooh babe why don't you let it go?

Happiness aint never how you think it should be so"

She runs away

She runs away...

And then you know there comes a time

You need her more than anything

You may believe yours are the wounds

That only she can heal

Then everything will turn around

And she becomes so serious

What she chose to offer you

Was all that you could have

(...and she says)

"Ooh darlin' don't you know

The darkness comes and the darkness goes"

(she says)

"Ooh babe why don't you let it go?

Happiness aint never how you think it should be so"

She runs away

- Duncan Sheik

Had my quaintly-termed "alumni" group last night. Brought the laptop and showed the 4-minute LifeAbridged movie with my music to the group. Cried more in that group than I ever have in public... EVER. Marking an anniversary of death (at least for me) makes you go back and experience those last few hours all over again - and that is not time I necessarily ever want to relive. Don't get me wrong - it was an honor that Sam chose me to share her life and her death. Given the circumstances, I can't say I'd change anything. It was an honor to walk her to the threshold of whatever happens next. And I acknowledge the incredible gift that gave me: perspective. Because all that mundane crap the majority of people seem to think is so important means nothing. Nothing life throws at me from this moment on can intimidate or scare me - I held my wife as she took her last breath, and a month later hugged my father goodbye for the last time. And at the risk of sounding like a raving egomaniac, since I'm still breathing and raising two children on my own, I guess that makes me a fucking titan.

Lots of anger being shared in the group last night. We all have the common quality of having been caregivers for a terminally ill person. A person that would never be able to show any kind of gratitude or reciprocate for all that we did. Selfishly, I thought Sam would pull through, and that she would be there to take care of me when my health failed. I mean let's face it - we ALL will fail at some point. And the lucky ones will have family and close friends who will go to the wall for them. The luckier ones will have a spouse or partner who knows their soul, and who would stay and do whatever needed to be done no matter how incapacitated they became, or how many times they had to change the bedding and wipe up their shit.

I have no doubt that when my time comes, I will have the friendships I've worked hard to foster throughout my life - I will have friends at my side. And I'm pretty sure my kids won't leave me in a ditch somewhere. But I really wanted that insurance, that trump card, that bastion of strength that only a soulmate, a life-partner... a wife... can provide.

In other news, my dog Wiley is the only dog I've ever met who can do a Chevy Chase pratfall while cleaning himself. What the hell, dog? It's not like you aren't already sitting on the damn floor. Ah well. He's comic relief. Which is good, because I tend to brood and listen to depressing, angsty music throughout the majority of the day, and a little random mirth keeps me from carving my wrists up with an X-acto knife.

Six Months

Six Months ago today, at 5AM, Samantha passed away. I'd never been present at the death of a human being before that moment, so I have little basis for comparison, but I guess it was peaceful, as death goes. Well, no. No it really wasn't. For three hours her body clung onto life. Her lungs strained to take in breath. Her heart beat strongly. This was a young woman who did not want to die, and who had no business dying at this stage in her life. I've written previously about what I saw as the travesty of a human body shutting down piecemeal like that. One infected organ is all it takes to start a chain reaction. And in her case, the liver was key. Had the liver survived, it would not have poisoned the brain with toxic ammonia levels, which then would not have shut down her other systems.

And all that is very technical and clinical and doesn't change the fact that for three hours I sat by her side and watched helplessly as her body killed itself. I think that was the true horror - not being able to do anything. I considered several times calling 911 and getting her hospital care. But then I remembered how the surgery to remove her infected port had really sapped what little strength she had left. The two considerations that kept me from dialing those three numbers were:

1) Sam's oncologist had thrown in the towel. He had remained hopeful up until the last couple months, but then he'd been very realistic and told us in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going to last long, and that no amount of care in a hospital was going to change that.

2) At one point about a week prior to her passing, I'd told Sam, "any time you want to go to the hospital, you just let me know." To which she gave a look as if to say what are you, crazy? and replied, "Heck no. You're giving me the best care I've ever had."

For the month or so after she died, I wondered if I'd done the right thing. Then my dad died in the hospital, with every intervention under the sun - something he said he didn't want - and I knew I'd spared Samantha that final indignity. I guess that should be of some consolation. I did give her comfort, love, dignity and a hand to hold all the way to the door. And I did my best to give my dad the same.

Was down all evening yesterday with a migrane. Never got them until my mid to late 20s, and only 3 times or so a year. After Sam was diagnosed, I could count on one showing up at least once a month (and maybe staying for two or three days). One was so severe Sam took me to the ER where they gave me a shot of Imitrex that made my head feel like it had transformed into a Hawaiian volcano god. Then I read that the drug had been implicated in cases of heart failure and declined to fill the prescription. Exploding heart, not so much, thanks. I kept them in check with a combination of diet, exercise, chiropractic, massage and Excedrin. They declined in frequency and severity after Sam passed away, but still manage to sneak up on me if I don't keep up with the first 4 deterrents. Seems to be better today.

Woke up at 4AM to Wiley whuffing and whining in the spot where Sam's hospice bed had been (which is directly over my bed downstairs). Put on the headphones and brought up the mp3 random playlist on the laptop (which I generally keep next to the bed).

First song, And Tears Fell - Devil's Lullaby (one of our songs currently undergoing re-recording for the tribute CD).

And should you fall,

One winter's day

The angels and devils

Around us surround us

And take your soul away

Next song, Echo & The Bunnymen - The Killing Moon.

In starlit nights I saw you

So cruelly you kissed me

Your lips a magic world

Your sky all hung with jewels

The killing moon

Will come too soon

Next song, Brendan Perry - The Captive Heart

But then if I close my eyes

I can see you standing there

Your face in permanence smiles

Your lips a chalice

Seems like I've loved you all my life

Never thought I'd find you

One day the muse may lend these words wings

So I can touch you

Next song, Sarah Shannon - I'll Run Away

Two thousand miles and a day since I left my home

I watch the sun leave the sky as I sit here alone

Nothing to do - I don't care, I don't care, I don't care

Just watching beautiful time pass by without you there

Next song, And Tears Fell - Fire Inside (another of the works in progress)

I never thought you'd run away like that

I always thought we'd be together

I never dreamed that it could hurt so much

I always thought I'd take it better

Okay honey. Thanks for checking in. I love you.

Dawn of the Slacker

Well I woke up this morning... (blues riff here)

That's it, really. Jeez, such a clever opening and... nuthin'. What a rip off!

Came upstairs to find everything tinted the color of orange sherbet. Still a bit groggy, of course - could be my eyes going wonky after years of sitting too close to the television and 8 years in the videogame industry, staring at color pallettes on a CRT monitor. Let Wiley out of his kennel and took him to the back door to let him out for his morning business. Opened the door to the most beautiful sunrise EVAR. Beautiful pink and orange clouds strewn across a light blue sky, sun just coming up, front-lighting the autumn trees. It was like a freakin' Bob Ross painting ("Here's a happy little cloud right here...").

It occurs to me I haven't posted in over a week, but it's not due to disinterest, just to a generally busy state of being. Been working on Arrowflight 2nd Edition, the Ordinary Angels screenplay, and finishing up some music.

On that front, the master for Impetus - Triskelle just went out, due to some last minute tweaking and the addition of the final track. The piece just poured out of me one afternoon as I was writing the very sparse dialogue in a scene from Ordinary Angels where a terminally ill woman is dying in her husband's arms and Cadmiel, one of the angel characters, leans in to whisper in the woman's ear, which begins the active dying process. As you can imagine, it's kind of a strong scene, and very close to home. But this beautiful acoustic guitar riff came to me and I assembled the track in about 3 hours. Called it Whispered the Angel, and knew it had to go on Triskelle. The following morning, I put it behind a 4-minute montage of photos and video clips from Sam's life. Easier to send friends in a chat window than a 30-minute DVD. And even a bit more powerful - the fact that it's Samantha's life condensed into 4 minutes.

Went to lunch again with LA, had a good time, showed her both Sam's and my dad's memorial DVDs. What a trooper. Took my folks to the airport - they're having a great time visiting old friends in England, going to Paris for a bit too.

This last Saturday I took Muriel over to Brian Chase's studio to meet him and get her comfortable in the studio setting. She's singing several of the songs that are going on the And Tears Fell tribute CD. The simple introduction turned into her actually singing some placeholder vocals on two songs, which now allows Brian and I (and other musicians) to layer in more instrumentation. All the time I was sitting there listening to Muriel's amazing voice and wondering "does Sam approve of this?", because while Muriel has a really great voice, it's so very much NOT Sam, and our sound was really defined to a great extent by Sam's voice.

But I remembered this is a tribute to Sam, not us trying to re-create her vocal style. Muriel had known Sam since she was 14 and Sam was 30. They had a big sister/little sister thing going on. This is done with the best of loving intent, and yes, Sam would approve. Besides, my guitar work is better now than it was back in the day, and we're no longer restricted to lo-fi analog recording equipment and limiting media like TAPE. Muriel's vocals sound like an unholy crossbreeding of Natalie Merchant and Johnette Napolitano - really haunting. I guess to compare, Sam's voice had more of a classical-to-pop quality, and Muriel's is more jazzy/bluesy.

It's all good.

Sunday we drove the new rig up to Bellingham for a nice afternoon visit with my grandparents. I'm very lucky to have my mom's folks still here, sharp as tacks and in possession of their own teeth. My grandfather turns 89 next month. There's a ton of family history being written down now, thank heavens.

Came home, threw together dinner, and riffed on some CD cover art for the And Tears Fell project. Settled on the idea of featuring a rose photo that Samantha took on Vancouver Island in 1986 when we drove up to the World Expo. The rest is about a dozen layers of texture to create a kind of 23 Envelope vibe. I was a big fan of their album cover design work for 4AD Records; it was a big inspiration for Samantha & I in our music.

So that's where it sits now. Tune in again later. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel!

Just Keeps Going... And Going...

So this week has been a nonstop orgy of schedules, milestones and activities. It's a biggie, but bear with me...

Tuesday - Took Kayleigh to get ballet slippers and tap shoes, then to dance class. Not a huge deal. Got me primed for each day getting a bit more busy.

Wednesday - Took the kids to school, picked up my brother and headed to Shoreline to shop cars. See, my late grandfather's estate dropped a sudden, one-time-only gift in the laps of each of my dad's children, thanks to my aunt, uncle and grandmother. It couldn't have come at a better time. The '92 Sable was about to become one of those "old car money pits", especially since the radiator cracked back in '03 and leaked coolant into the engine. Since then I've been getting crappy mileage and crappy performance, despite our local greasemonkeys doing everything mechanically possible (short of replacing the engine). Sam's Taurus wagon blew the tranny on the trip down to Oregon, and was basically hauled away for parts.

So here I am, a single father of two with a limited income and a failing car, no way to afford payments on even a crappy used car (which would be no better a solution than sinking money into the Sable). Yet here was this magical means of buying a new, reliable car with a full warranty for cash. It felt like Grandpa Ken came back to Earth to help me out this one last time.

After much research and a lot of test driving, I settled on the Kia Sportage - you know, the commercial with each person driving it somewhere and then throwing the keys to the next person. It's the overhauled new design built on the Hyundai Tucson/Elantra chassis. Not so much a small SUV as a sport wagon. Thing is shorter than a sedan, yet has amazing space inside, like a Dr. Who TARDIS. 4-cylinder 5-speed stick, good horsepower for the size of the engine, ABS, traction/stability control, front, side and curtain airbags all standard. Excellent passenger/cargo space, and 21-28 mpg (way better than the Sable, which is a really good thing as gas prices keep climbing). Has the Hyundai warranty too: 10yrs/100,000mi powertrain, 5yr bumper-to-bumper, 5yr roadside assistance and 6yr corrosion (a nice feature in Seattle). Got a great deal and excellent treatment from Chuck Olson Chevrolet/Kia in Shoreline (plug plug). Did the deal, but the exact rig I wanted was on a lot in Oregon and had to be brought up. 37 years old, and just bought my first new car. Go me.

Went to my Gilda's group that night. Met a woman who was roughly my age, had been high school/college sweethearts with her husband, lost him to the same cancer Samantha had, over a similar course of treatment. Has a 4yo girl. Brought back a ton of stuff for me, emotionally. Go figure.

Thursday - 15th wedding anniversary. The tormented blog entries are below. It was a rough day from the get-go. Could not stop crying... and it wasn't the break-down-sobbing kind... more like a constant stomach ache and saline drip leaking from the eyes. Decided I'd put it off long enough and went out to get inked that evening. Well, I tried anyway. When I got out to my car, I discovered my left front tire was flat, and the tire shop around the corner was closed. Message received - take a friend. So I called Caleb for a ride and he took me to Admiral Tattoo (plug plug), where a very friendly veteran artist proceeded to transfer the winged heart that was Samantha's symbol to my right calf. Yes, it hurt. And something about the physical pain became a catharsis for all the emotional agony I'd been feeling that day (and for the last 5 - 1/2 months). It was another milestone. When it was over, Caleb & I went around the corner to the Admiral Pub and shared a pitcher of Mack & Jack's Ale. And when I say we shared the pitcher, I mean Caleb had a glass, and I had the rest. In about 15 minutes. So needless to say, my leg didn't hurt too much. Put the kids to bed and crashed hard.

Friday - Kayleigh's 8th birthday. Up at 5:30AM, made breakfast. Got the kids up and moving, then drove around the corner on the Sable's alloy rim to get the tire replaced. They hooked me up and I was off - to the store to get cupcakes for Kayleigh's class celebration. Took the kids to school for the last time in the Sable. Forgot to go to the chiropractor. Met up with Erik and Caleb and went to check out Serenity. LOVED it, but then I loved the short-lived Firefly TV series upon which the film is based. Got home and cleaned for half an hour. Kids got home, piled them into the car and picked up my brother. Headed up to Shoreline to pick up the new rig. Bye bye Sable, hello Sportage (which Caleb has decreed we must pronounce with a French accent, i.e. spor-taaj, so we can drive the Spor-taaj to Tar-jaay). Got down to the Northgate Red Robin for a birthday dinner with my stepmom and our whole car load. Of course, being a Friday night, it was completely mad in there. We just managed to finish, drop my brother at home and get back to the house before the guys got there for our weekly game night. Put the kids down around 10PM, the guys left about midnight, I finally got to bed at 1:AM... Long day.

Today was actually a holiday in comparison! Got Tyler to Aikido, then grabbed some lunch with the kids. My stepmom picked up Kayleigh this afternoon for a dinner-and-ballet outing, just the two of them. Tyler and I took the Spor-taaj to Tar-jaay and got prezzies for Kayleigh's party tomorrow... when I get to host a Chuck E. Cheese birthday party with 5 eight-year-old girls and a bored boy of 11.

I am a leaf on the wind.

Wave

It seems that I remember
I dreamed a thousand dreams
We’d face the days together no matter what they’d bring
A strength inside like I’d never known
Opened the door to life and let it go

This sun may shine forever
Upon the back of love
A kingdom raised from ashes and held within your arms
And should the rain break through the trees
We’ll find a shelter there and never leave

I’ll run to you, nothing stands between us now
Nothing I can lose
This light inside can never die
Another world just made for two
I’ll swim the seas inside with you
And like the waves, without a sound
I’ll never let you down

Upon the wave of summer
A hilltop paved with gold
We shut our eyes and made the promises we hold
A will to guide and see us through
I’d do it all again because of you

I’ll run to you, nothing stands between us now
Nothing I can lose
This light inside can never die
Another world just made for two
I’ll swim the seas inside with you
And like the waves, without a sound
I’ll never let you down

I’d tear my very soul to make you mine

- David Sylvian

Letter to Samantha

Hello my Darling,

Sometimes it seems like that magical first kiss was just last week. Other times it seems like forever ago. Even though I was only 16, there was this feeling deep down in the pit of my stomach that said "she's the one". I won't lie - that feeling was scary to me. But then I'd always had a sort of freaky sense of Destiny (with a capital D), so I rolled with it.

Fast forward 6 years. A hundred fifty of our friends and family assembled at a beautiful stone church in Portola Valley to watch us make our lifetime commitment a public statement. I was as stoic and unsmiling as the stones in the church - so solemn! And yet, once the ceremony was done, I was the life of the party. You were so beautiful. The gown with the puffed shoulders, and your hair up under that hat... you looked like a southern belle.

Then the limo ride to the Garden Court Hotel in Palo Alto, standing up and waving out the sunroof all the way down University Avenue, while people honked and cheered. The wonderful food, the champagne, the cheesy DJ who cracked stupid one-liners but nonetheless played what we wanted. We made our entrance to the strains of John Williams' Star Wars fanfare. Randy, my father & stepfather and your dad all made toasts in our honor. We danced to Peter Gabriel's "In Your Eyes", that romantic '80s anthem made even more popular by the ubiquitous John Cusack date movie, Say Anything. And David Sylvian's "Silver Moon" with its somewhat prophetic lyrics:

I will build a shelter if you call
Just take my hand and walk
Over mountains high and wide
Bridging rivers deep inside
With a will to guide you on
Your heart will need no one
Those days are gone

Baby I can tell you there's no easy way out
Lost inside of dreams that guide you on
Baby I can tell you there's no easy way out
Soon the guiding moonlight will be gone

Years later, I would find video of you at the reception, dancing by yourself to Peter Gabirel's "Solsbury Hill", your face a vision of happiness and contentment.

We finally retired up to our suite, exhausted and aglow, only to find our friends had trashed the room. We could have called down to have the hotel staff clean it up, but we were so tired it didn't occur to either of us. We just cleared the bed, managed a celebratory tryst, and crashed hard. Until 5AM, when the alarm clock hidden under the bed went off.

The next day would be spent prepping for our month-long journey through England, Scotland, Wales and Ireland. It was a symbol of the adventure that awaited us in our life together. We would undertake careers, interstate relocation, childrearing, and small business operation. And we would do it all TOGETHER. It's hard not having TOGETHER anymore. I miss TOGETHER. I miss having a partner who knows my most intimate details, my quirks and habits, my soul. But I am grateful for the time we did have.

Baby, fifteen years ago today, I promised you I'd be yours forever in front of "God and everybody". In Celtic fashion, every year I renewed those vows, and so did you. I just want you to know that I would do it all over again, even knowing what happens at the end. I'm really hurting without you. I miss you. Your bright smile, soft touch and just your overall companionship. The kids miss their mom. I miss my best friend, my wife.

I will always love you, Samantha.

Eternally,
Todd

Wake Me Up When September Ends

Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends

Like my fathers come to pass
Seven years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends

Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are

As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends

Ring out the bells again
Like we did when spring began
Wake me up when September ends

Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are

As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends

Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends

Like my fathers come to pass
Twenty years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends

- Green Day
(emphasis mine)

Waves Become Wings

The birthday meaning entry was stupid, so I'm replacing it with something that might have a bit more insight and less cheese. Today's title comes from a song by This Mortal Coil. I thought it might be relevant.

I had a pretty deep conversation with my stepmom yesterday, in which I thought of an interesting analogy to the grief process each of us is currently undergoing. The emotional devastation we feel is akin to a forest fire. It sweeps through, killing all aspects of our former life with our spouse, laying the whole zone bare, blackened and charred. Eventually, life will return. Even more lush and vibrant perhaps. But it will take time, and we will always see remnants of the old fire damage here and there, despite how much it may become overgrown with new life.

Had my first bereavement group at Gilda's. It's bigger (more people), more diverse in ages, more diverse in stories. There are a few members who are mourning spouses, so I don't feel out of place. It just doesn't have the immediate comfort level of my past two groups. We'll see how it works.

Been thinking a lot about those old connections... My brother Matt, whom I last saw in the hospital, surrounded by a crash team and rigged with tubes and sensors. I remember how he looked up at me, how we locked eyes and he silently told me goodbye.

My grandfather Ken, with whom I shared many deep and meaningful philosophical conversations. How comforted he looked when I described the human soul as a spark from the Source/God/creator.

My great grandfather Charles, who used to slip me money to go buy comics or candy when I was a wee lad. A man who felt so strongly about passing the torch to the next generation that he voluntarily gave up nourishment.

My uncle Doug, my father's youngest brother, black sheep of the family, with whom I shared a strange kind of advocacy. As he was dying of leukemia from radiation treatments for an earlier cancer, we shared several teary phonecalls, and I remember telling him it was alright if he had to go - that I didn't want him to, but if he had important work to do, he should not feel bound here. That "release" would become standard practice from then on.

My yard-long, 22-lb Maine Coon tabby (Gryphon), who was my constant companion from 1987 to 2003. I held him as he died.

My darling wife of almost 15 years, partner and companion of more than 20, Samantha. Those pivotal moments... our trip up to Victoria and Vancouver in 1986, driving up - just the two of us. The time we broke up for a month. Our first apartment in Mountain View. Long phonecalls when we were at different colleges. Our trip to the Caribbean in 1989, our wedding in 1990, our exodus north in 1991. The birth of our son in 1994, the purchase of our home in 1995. More angst, more love. Our daughter's arrival in 1997. Our near-split in 2000, and coming out of that closer and stronger than ever. Her diagnosis in 2002, followed by my father's. The constant trips to the hospital, and her boundless courage, hope and humor. Holding her as she breathed her last... God, I will never forget that horrible silence.

My father. A man who suffered greatly as a child, yet found the strength within himself to break a generations-old cycle of abuse. A man who showed me how to follow my dreams and never look back. How he asked Samantha where she would most like to go in the world, and when she answered Greece and Italy, said without missing a beat, "Book the trip - it's on me." Remembering how he insisted on coming to dinner for Tyler's birthday, just one day after his first brain surgery. How he never quite came back after that. How frustrated he looked in the ICU bed, being subject to all manner of humiliation after another brain surgery... and another. How he cried on the phone when I told him we'd adopted our dog Wiley. How I knew the moment I heard the phone ring that he was gone, before the doctor even said they were still trying to revive him.

It's all a charred forest now.

I'm trying really hard to find new growth... but it's a hellishly long and painful search. Especially this big redwood grove that was my life with Sam. That will take forever to come back, no matter how many dates I may go on.

And tomorrow I might feel totally different. Welcome to Widda-World.

Dating, Guilt Factor and Getting on With it...

Monday, for the first time since I was 16 and took Sam to dinner and a movie, I went on a date.

Yeah, at 5-1/2 months, I went on a date. And you know what? It felt good. Really good. Because although Sam died 5-1/2 months ago, I hadn't related to her from a "romantic" point of view since before chemo. It just wasn't part of the equation. Caring for her was the number one priority - not being mushy and boyfriend/girlfriend (or husband/wife). We had our tender moments. We were still physically intimate when we could manage it. But I was losing her for a long time, and deep down I knew I was losing her. The amount of anticipatory grief I experienced during the last 2-1/2 years of Sam's life probably has a lot to do with my ability to even consider relating to a woman on any level other than platonic at less than 6 months of official widda-hood. "LA" is a single mom, really sweet, really supportive of my process, and extremely patient because of it.

Concern #1: That I'd be too hung up on Sam's personality or body type/physical traits to be open to anything different. LA is like a complete about-face from Sam, so concern #1 was rendered moot - and that felt good to discover.

Concern #2: That the Guilt Factor would be debilitating, and I would not be able to function socially. I kept waiting for it, but the Guilt Factor never registered - and that felt good too.

Concern #3: That skin hunger would drive me too deeply and too quickly into a relationship, which I'm totally not ready for. That's still a concern, so I'm taking things slowly and not jumping into anything serious. Not with LA. Not with anyone.

Bottom line? I felt human and alive for a few hours. I related to a female of the species and didn't do the social equivalent of pulling the pin on a grenade and waving it around. It felt natural and positive and I didn't feel any of the guilt I was anticipating, nor did I care about what "everyone else" might think. Guess I'm cutting myself some slack, which is one of those about-damn-time things.

Admiral Nelson, R.I.P.

My father's parrot, Admiral Nelson, died yesterday of what the vets called a heart attack. Enlarged chambers, shrunken arteries, went instantly. He had no other health problems and was acting completely normal when we saw him on Tuesday. We got him back in the '80s as a Christmas present for dad. They bonded, and Admiral sailed with my dad & stepmom when they transitioned to their cruising lifestyle.

Katherine took excellent care of the Admiral, and he could have lived another 30-40 years. But parrots bond with their primary humans, and veterinary literature is full of stories just like this. Quite literally died of a broken heart. He was the last of the pets we had in the house on Sutter Avenue in Palo Alto. The house that we just sold.

It is truly the end of an era. I can almost hear the page turning.

For some reason Blogspot is having trouble with pics... I'll keep trying.

An Actor's Life For Me

Well, we did the Twelfth Night fundraiser last night. It was generally a good show, with kickass food, an auction, etc. We pirates screwed up the opening number, but other than that things went pretty smoothly. Travis (aka Commodore Wee Pecker) brought a couple replica pistols and some plastic caps - when you crammed the cap over the firing nipple and fired, it made a nice report in the hall. We worked the crowd between numbers and chased each act off the stage with some funny improv shtick.

I'm not sure how much we made for the theater company, but it was plain that folks were really being generous. Twelfth Night gives away all of its profits to local charities and community improvement projects, so this will be an annual event, to help replenish the operating fund.

I'm tired and sore, but it was a lot of fun, and I really feel like I'm continuing Samantha's efforts with this group (and in general).

Here We Go.

Monday will mark 5 calendar months since the morning Sam died. But the dying process took weeks - how much more cruelly a human body could be punished by itself, I cannot fathom. I was reminded of the last portion of Sam's life by a post my brother made in his blog. Tell you the truth, I'd blocked that day out (for obvious reasons). And when I read that, the breathtaking horror of that specific moment came flooding back, and it knocked me flat.

It had been a rough fight. Sam had chosen to go 100% chemo - to be as aggressive as she possibly could. For more than two years, doctors pumped her full of chemicals meant to kill tissue, not strengthen the patient. She was young and strong when the battle began, and although the cancer certainly destroyed her liver, the chemo took a heavy toll. I don't know why they didn't remove her port when they decided to quit chemo. It eventually became infected, and caused a trip to the hospital for a surgery from which she never recovered. It wasn't the surgery itself, but a cumulative effect. The constant barrage of poking and prodding and sticking and medicines. Healthcare is invasive. And often, the cure is worse than the disease.

I don't fully blame chemo for killing Samantha. Chemo prolonged her life for a year or more - while she was still strong enough to take it. But after a time, you reach a point of diminishing returns. We went to a naturopath who works with Swedish, and he put her on some immunity boosting supplements and a dietary plan to help take the load off her liver, but it was too late. After that last surgery to remove her infected port, she declined again... about 2 weeks after she rallied so hard (and I really believed she might come back - I was pulling for that miracle), she kissed the kids goodnight for the last time.

Kayleigh went to a sleepover at a friend's house, Tyler retired to his bedroom downstairs. I stayed with Sam in the family room where her hospice bed had been situated for the past three weeks. Candles were lit, soft music played. After a stampede of family and friends over the last few weeks, it was eerie to be alone together - just like the night of our first kiss in my dad's driveway 20 years before. I sat with her until 11PM, then collapsed on the sofa next to her.

At 2AM, I sat bolt upright. She was breathing in halted gasps - the last stage of "active" dying. I sat next to her and held her. I kept telling her how much I loved her, how much everyone loved her. I told her I wished she wouldn't go, but I understood if she had something important to accomplish elsewhere. She kept repeating "love... love..." I would have given anything to bring her back from that precipice. I kept fantasizing that any second she'd open her eyes and breathe a full, calm breath of air, and she'd look at me and smile, and be completely healed, like this was another childbirth, not dying of cancer. I'd been warned about the "death rattle", when the airway gets saliva in it and causes a chilling sound. But Sam was classy, and instinctively cleared her throat with each breath. No rattle.

I sat there holding her for 3 hours. Every breath she took was agony for me - never knowing if THAT one was the LAST one. Finally, at 5AM on the nose, she took one last breath, exhaled. Funny thing was, I could tell no more breaths would come. Up to that point, she'd had spaces of thirty seconds or more between breaths. But the moment she let that last lungful of air out, I knew she was gone. Her body remained warm for some time, but her spark was gone. I just kept holding her and crying, because I knew what this meant.

Samantha's passing represented the death of an era. Not just the end of a loving marriage and another point for cancer. Not just another two kids who would have to grow up without their mom. But the end of everything she and I had experienced together for 20 years, from our teens, through our twenties and into our thirties. From getting yelled at for making out in drama class, to road trips with our SCA pirate clan, to an interstate move, careers, children, home... all of that shared history is no longer shared. It becomes my own memory archive, or the memories of my children, friends, family members. And those memories are made painful by virtue of the fact that the one person I chose to make such memories with is now gone.

I hadn't even had a chance to sort through these feelings when my father was told his cancer had metastasized to his brain. He had one brain surgery, then another... for me, it was torture having to see him in the hospital, being carved on, poked and prodded - all the stuff I'd just gone through with Sam. Then he developed a blood clot and infection in his brain from the surgeries. For the week following his third brain surgery, my poor stepmom practically lived at the hospital. And I knew what she was going through. I visited him pretty frequently that week, despite how much I fucking HATE hospitals. But when I got the call from the doctor that he'd gone into respiratory distress and they were trying to revive him, I knew it was over. And I couldn't go see him afterward. Not with the intubation tube in his throat and all the hospital gear all over him. I'd had enough. Enough. No more hospitals, cancer, pain and agony - no more DEATH, please. At least for a long time.

I felt I wanted to re-post this pic, for a lot of personal reasons. I love you Dad... I love you Sam... I miss you both, more than I can ever put to words.

Sage Advice.

Taurus horoscope for today:

"If your emotions were a bank, you might be feeling just a touch overdrawn right now; remember that while it's always nice to feel a little nostalgia for days of yore, you're really not helping yourself by staying stuck in the past. In fact, you may actually be missing a wonderful opportunity by not being fully present in the here and now. Not only is the present moment pretty great, but your future could be bright indeed -- if you can get out of your memories."

Good to know. Like it's gonna happen any time soon. ;)

Back to School

Well I haven't posted in a few days... Labor Day weekend and all. Had a nice BBQ at Sam's brother's place with my extended family on Saturday afternoon. Came home, made the previous post. The next day was really bad. Had no energy, severely depressed, missing Sam - felt like what I imagine someone feels like coming off heroin. At bedtime, I cried harder and longer than I ever did as a child. Almost passed out. Finally talked myself down and fell asleep.

Dreamed the kids came into my room and said, "we hear mommy upstairs." Our house has a reverse floorplan - bedrooms downstairs, entry upstairs. The door at the bootom of the stairs lines up pretty much with my bedroom door. Both were open and I could see this golden warm light spilling down from the landing at the top of the stairs. Then, plain as day, I heard Sam call out, "Sweetie." She always had a particular inflection and tone when she called me that, and this was her way of telling me to calm down, that everything would work out. She said it twice, and I tried to respond, but... stupid vocal paralysis in dreams. Then she was gone and I started to wake, and could see behind my closed eyes a light in my room that shouldn't have been there normally. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Woke up at 5:30AM. And sonnovabitch, my door was open. I shut it tightly at night because I don't like the cat cleaning herself and shedding next to my head in the middle of the night. So... wackiness.

Monday was great. Went to a little gathering at Darlene's down the street. Much hilarity and soaking of clothes in a water fight. Then Kayleigh hung out with Darlene and I went to meet Steve, JD, Caleb and Jeremiah (actor from Duo) down at the Celtic Swell for some going away pints. Then Steve brought over some Spike & Mike's animation and I showed him this awesome Looney Tunes documentary. Steve's a fanatic for the LT (and so am I). That was a good, full day. There were some dark pockets, but on the whole, I navigated through the shoals pretty well.

Tuesday was less productive than I wanted, being the last day of summer vacation for the kids. Ah well. Best laid plans and all. At 5PM, rounded them up and took them to the back to school carnival, with inflatable bouncy rides and dinner. Hung out there for a couple hours. Cracked the whip and managed to get computers and TVs off, pets fed, teeth brushed and kids in bed by 9:30. Then set about folding the bazillion loads of laundry hiding my bed. All this mundane stuff used to be fun when Sam & I did it together. Finally crashed at 12:30.

So Tyler's in middle school now. When I left him with his homeroom crowd this morning, in his gray camo pants, Vans and blue fleece sweatshirt, freshly showered and combed, it struck me how grown up he is. This is the same little kid I have on video performing songs from Winnie the Pooh at age 3 with a curtain rod for an air guitar. And to watch Kayleigh running around at the fair with her friends yesterday... whew. Where have the last 8 years gone?? Eight years ago, I was working on Allegiance at Microsoft, and Sam was pregnant with Kayleigh. Tyler was in preschool. They used to come out to the Redwest campus and have lunch with me. I got to take my new design work home on Fridays to bring in the following week, so I could maintain a presence at home. It doesn't seem like that long ago, but look what's changed in those eight years: another kid at home, the launching of Deep7, the release of the licensed Red Dwarf game, the loss of Ace & Gryphon, the diagnosis, treatment and deaths of Samantha and my father. Oh, and my descent into hell. Yeah, I know. Enough with the self-pity. But I don't see it as self-pity; more a casual statement of fact.

When people ask me how I'm doing now, I just answer, "surviving." Because that's all I can really do right now.

The left side of the photo was taken in 2002, before Sam's diagnosis. The right side was in the fall of 2004, about 6 months before she died.

The Last Straw

Hotel hobbies padding dawn's hollow corridors
A typewriter cackles out a stream of memories
Drying out a conscience, evicting a nightmare
Opening the doors for the dreams to come home

We live out lives in private shells
Ignore our senses and fool ourselves
To thinking that out there that someone else cares
Someone to answer all our prayers

Are we too far gone, are we so irresponsible
Have we lost our balls, or do we just not care
We're terminal cases that keep taking medicine
Pretending the end isn't quite that near

We make futile gestures, act to the cameras
With our made up faces and our PR smiles
And when the angel comes down, down to deliver us
We'll find out after all, we're only men of straw

But everything is still the same
Passing the time passing the blame
We carry on in the same old way
We'll find out we left it too late one day to say what we meant to say

Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the water
Those problems seem to arise, the ones you never really thought of
The feeling you get is similar to something like drowning
Out of your mind, you're out of your depth, you should have taken soundings
Clutching at straws, we're clutching at straws

And if you ever come across us don't give us your sympathy
You can buy us a drink and just shake our hands
And you'll recognise by the reflection in our eyes
That deep down inside we're all one and the same

We're clutching at straws
We're still drowning
Clutching at straws

- Marillion, "The Last Straw"

Clutching at Straws, 1987

Yeah, probably not the best music to be listening to in my state, but there's something to be said for getting it out. Sam & I saw Marillion live twice. The first time was in 1985 at the Filmore in San Francisco. In the days before mosh pits and barricades, I could always guarantee Sam a great concert ecperience. We would always be right next to the stage and I created a shield around her with my body, so she would be mostly immune to any shoving and pushing.

The concert in question was the Misplaced Childhood tour. The album remained one of Sam's favorite, most-played albums all her life. The poetry is amazing and the music (although somewhat dated sounding now) is astonishing. They played the whole album as one continuous song (as it was recorded), along with some singles before and after. Our friend Colin had managed to slip a roadie a news clipping about our other friend Dan's suicide. Earlier that school year, Dan had taken a dangerous cocktail of controlled and OTC drugs, and gone to lay down on the railroad tracks. They found pieces of him everywhere. Sam and I weren't close to Dan, but we ran with the same crowd and were tight with Colin, so obviously we were affected.

So the show went well, they played like the virtuosos they were, and the band left the stage. We were satisfied in a show well done. But then... they started their first encore. The vocalist, Fish, was lit in silhouette behind one of the translucent flats on the stage. And he began this speech about how he'd read the news article and it disturbed him to see a young life cut short so tragically. And they proceeded to play the title track to Fugazi, which happened to be Dan's favorite song of theirs (or so Colin told me after the show in a state of disbelief). The basic gist is in these few lines:

Cowering behind curtains and the taped up painted windows
Decriminalised genocide, provided door to door Belsens
Pandora's box of holocausts gracefully cruising satellite infested heavens
Waiting, the season of the button, the penultimate migration
Radioactive perfumes, for the fashionably, for the terminally insane, insane

Do you realise? Do you realise?
Do you realise, this world is totally fugazi

The second time we saw them was the Clutching at Straws tour, at the Warfield in San Francisco. Another great show, and this time we got to meet the band by the tour bus. I got my concert shirt signed by Fish, and shook the keyboardist's hand (I was a big keyboards guy at the time). We had a giant wall-size poster from that tour in our apartment, along with a similar one from Peter Gabriel's So tour (we saw Peter Gabriel twice in the space of a year - once for So, and once for the Amnesty tour with Sting, Lou Reed and U2).

I can listen to virtually no music without being reminded of Samantha. How she looked in stage lights (whether on stage or in the audience), how she felt backed against my chest in the crowd of people, or how we used to go dancing at the Vortex in Palo Alto (or in the dance pit at our friend Wombat's communal pad). How she got so serious when working on one of our own songs, and how she would curl the corner of her mouth into a subtle smile while singing, pursing her beautiful lips. How we would spontaneously slow dance in the living room...

Last week my brother Matt would have been 35. It's hard to imagine. Things might have been very different. We were very competitive as children. My personality may have developed in some other direction. My parents may have stopped with my sister Sara, or even with Matt. I might not have my brother Gavin today. My parents may not have split up, and I wouldn't have been the life preserver for my siblings. I may never have met Sam. And if I'd never met Sam, I wouldn't have my wonderful children.

So I guess things do happen for a reason, painful as they may be at the time... and for years afterward. That's the price we pay for being human. Loss hurts like a son of a bitch. But it's part of the mechanism of existence. There is joy to follow. I can't see it from my current vantage point, but there MUST be. Because if there isn't, what's the point?

That Time of the Night

At that time of the night
When streetlights throw crosses through window frames
Paranoia roams where the shadows reign
Oh, at that time of the night
At that time of the night
Your senses tangled in some new perfume
Criticism triggers of a loaded room
Oh, at that time of the night

So if you ask me
How do I feel inside
I could honestly tell you
We’ve been taken on a very long ride
And if my owners let me
Have some free time some day
With all good intention
I would probably run away
Clutching the short straw
- Marillion

Got a load of dishes done. Folded 3 loads of laundry. Paid bills. Got the ball rolling on a refi for the house. Assembled the dog kennel for night use (he's getting into stuff while we're asleep - stuff that will make him sick). Talked to the accountant. Got the car washed. Helped my brother replace his car battery. Made a hot dinner for three. Went to rehearsal.

Now I'm sitting in bed trying to type through a goddamn tear parade. WTF??? Is it going to be impossible to have a productive day without breaking down? I know why - it's because I don't have Sam to talk to and confide in and congratulate me when I get everything done on my list.

I am so not looking forward to September 29th this year - would have been our 15th wedding anniversary. Kayleigh's birthday is the day after. Then we go into all the holidays - our first without Sam. The kids' first without mommy. First Halloween (sacred to Sam & I as Celtic New Year), first Thanksgiving (she loved to host), first Christmas (ugh - I can't even think about that one), first New Year (where's my kiss??).

Having friends - close friends like I do - is great. But it often makes the fact that my closest friend is gone that much more unbearable. I would do anything to have her back for one night... to cuddle, to kiss, to hold her hand in mine, to feel her breath on my neck, to make love to. So bloody unfair.

Meanwhile the Jerry Springer Show across the street from us has had two police calls and two ambulance calls in the last month. There's a grandma, a Jethro, his waif-like, chain-smoking girlfriend, and their toddler. Their fights are audible down the street, and they have a motorhome, an old minivan and two primered pickups with plywood walls in the driveway. Most of the time Jethro walks around in one of two NBA uniforms he owns (sporting his impressive gut and redneck tan), or drives around in one of the trucks, chortling like an idiot. Is Jethro aware of the awesome gift he's been given? Does he live every day to its fullest? Does he rejoice in the love of a woman (preferably not when he's smacking her around)?

I'd be lying if I said my relationship with Sam was perfect. There's no such animal. We had our bumpy rides, but they were few and far between, and we always moved through them with love and respect for the other. As far as I'm concerned, we did everything right. We approached life with a positive attitude and a house full of love. We set good examples of respect and intelligent discourse for our children. We ADORED each other.

And Jethro hits his kid and ambulances come, and smoking waif stays with him, and he just prances along, alive as the next guy.

This is one of those nights where I'm convinced there's no fucking justice in the world.