Is it cliche to write exactly what’s expected from a New Year’s post? A reflection on the last year’s good and bad blended with cautious optimism for the year ahead? A list of things I’d like to do better? Lists of things I’d like to stop or start doing? I kinda hate these types of quasi-lists (unless I can’t write, then maybe they’re helpful).
2019
2019 started off amazingly. In January B and I flew out to San Diego, where I met her friends and family, saw where she grew up, and asked her to marry me. She said yes, and we walked down from the top of the small mountain/hill (Double Peak) on a euphoric cloud. The downside of January was that B also was having some health complications. We adopted the motto we’re going to have long, happy, healthy lives together. We began planning for a wedding, we spent nights on the sofa looking at venues out in California. We were trying to decide if it was going to be in the spring, the following fall, or the following spring. I’m not sure either of us cared all that much so long as we were together. At the end of March, B quit her job and moved in with me. The job was a drag and commuting from the burbs to Philly was only going to add to the stress. She was beaming the day she left. We didn’t have a plan for what was next, but she had some savings, we had a renter lined up for our place in Philly, and I could afford our place in the burbs on one salary. It might have been a little tight, but I was happy to be starting our life together.
A little over a week later, B ended the engagement, moved out, and within another month or so sold her house and moved out of state.
When all of this happened, I was in one of the most stressful times of year for my job. I couldn’t stand the pressure. I couldn’t focus on anything. On more than a few days I thought I was going to crack. I was certain I’d be fired for not delivering a project on time. I was desperate for the stability B had provided. I had to call my boss to explain what happened. To ask for help or time off or to just be able to quit. I was allowed to work from home for a few days. I worked when I could concentrate, lost a ton of sleep, had really bad digestive problems (went to a doctor – something I never do). After weeks of upheaval, I realized I had lost every sense of home that I had. I couldn’t stand to be around anyone. All I wanted to do was continue to try with B, to see if we could talk it through. I know B had been going through the same thing. I had once asked about her health. She replied: “Leaving you without furniture or comfort made me so sad. Not sure about my health. Definitely so sad and depressed about this not working out… Not enjoying anything right now. Hiding inside and unpacking.” Later she said she had “lost the future we’d planned for too! I gave all I had from my heart and more – counseling and fighting and all my time – and still didn’t get what I needed in return. I’m pretty disappointed with and angry at you. It hurts a lot.” These were opportunities to reconnect. If we had explored why it was hurting us so bad, we could have seen the flip side of that hurt – it was our chance to see each other as the pure people we had fallen in love with. The one who leaves always has the stronger position and holds all the cards. She had made her decision and wouldn’t turn back, wouldn’t walk down the path of exploring the hurt together.
Having lost my sense of home, I started looking for jobs. I was primarily looking for high level positions (director or CEO) at a nonprofit. My search was focused on southern states (mostly North Carolina) and California. B and I had talked about moving somewhere warmer and slower, and I came to the conclusion that I wanted that with her and still want it for myself. I applied to about 60 different positions. I was fortunate enough to line up a few in-person interviews in North Carolina – which sent me on a road trip through the state (Asheville, Winston-Salem, Greensboro, Charlotte). I also got far in the interview process in Memphis, Jackson, TN, St. Louis, and Houston. While pursuing the new avenues, I put my house on the market, and tried to get back to doing some of the things that I used to enjoy (going to concerts, hanging out with friends, hiking). Everything was colored with B’s absence – nothing felt right. I didn’t want to be doing any of this alone. It’s really strange how having committed my life to her I still expected and wanted her to be a part of all of the new and major life decisions I was making. Selling the house took a lot longer than I had expected, and was a lot more stressful than I had expected. It had a lot of showings which meant I had to be out of the house a lot. Unfortunately, I think the stress of moving the cats for the open houses contributed to Paris dying.
At the last open house I had, I was just about to get the cats in their carriers when a couple showed up about half and hour early. This scared Paris, and she went to hide under the bed. No matter what I tried, she wouldn’t come out. I loaded Nick in to his carrier and went to my mom’s. I came home a couple of hours later, and went about my business.The house seemed normal, Paris seemed normal. The only thing off was that when I fed the cats that night, Paris didn’t eat – I checked on her and she was sitting by the back door downstairs – not a usual spot for her. It was a nice August evening. I poured a glass of wine and sat on the deck listening to to music. As it got dark and the mosquitoes came out, I decided to go in. I puttered around a little bit and realized I hadn’t seen Paris. I went downstairs to check on her. She was sprawled out on the floor, twisted in a weird position and struggling to breath. I walked up to her to pet her and see what was going on. She let out a wail like I had never heard before. Was she sad? in pain? Did she know that she was going? She tried to get up but couldn’t. She was drooling and her eyes had become distant and dark. I paced around, I cried, I screamed no, no , Jesus no. I thought about taking her to the hospital, but she was way too weak to move. I got back down on the floor next to her. I petted her and talked to her and said I was sorry, so so sorry. After about 15 minutes, she stopped breathing. I did the best I could for her in those final minutes. I felt horrible and guilty and confused. I texted my friend Jen, she said she was sorry. I texted Carolyn. I texted B. I don’t know what I was looking to hear…. I couldn’t figure it out, Paris was running around earlier that morning. I suspected something happened during the open house, I asked my realtor and was told that she never came out from under the bed. I took her body to an animal hospital – it was a Sunday, nothing else was open. I asked to have her cremated. Jen questioned this – asked what I planned to do with the ashes, why would I want to carry those around with me the rest of my life. It seemed insensitive and judgmental. What I needed and wanted was sympathy – I didn’t have a plan for the ashes – other than to maybe sprinkle some in a plant that would sit by a sunny spot on a window sill – Paris, like almost all cats, loved the sunlight.
In September, I got an offer on the house, and the very next day I got a job offer. It seemed like things were lining up. I gave notice later that week, and planned my move to Memphis, TN. I spent the rest of September and early October closing things out at work, getting rid of stuff, and trying to take care of things in Memphis (get an apartment, set a move in date, schedule a truck, etc. etc.). My colleagues in the nonprofit world who worked on issues of homelessness with me had a mini going away party at our last coalition meeting – they had bbq chips, sweet tea, and blues music. My colleagues at United Way had a going away lunch for me at my favorite bar, Isaac Newton’s – a few of them cried, they gave me very thoughtful cards telling me how I made a difference in our community and in their lives. My mom had a going away brunch for me. Leaving Bucks County after forty-some years was one of the hardest decisions I’ve had to make. I didn’t really want to leave, but I felt like I couldn’t stay – not with all of those memories and lost dreams. I didn’t have the strength to tread water any longer. This would be my chance to get ahead.
On October 17, I became a resident of Tennessee. I moved in to my apartment, and tried to settle in to my new city. I went to a lot of concerts and shows, I made a couple of new friends, I started a new job. The biggest shock was how everything I did was new and required thought and energy. I was exhausted for the first few weeks. Getting groceries, doing laundry, finding places to eat – it was all work. I also missed B terribly during this time. I wanted her with me to help explore this awesome city. I held tight to the hope in my heart that we were meant to be and would find our way home to each other.
2020
I have no idea what the year ahead will bring. I have some uncertainty with my job – I’m not sure I’m a good cultural fit. That uncertainty puts everything else up in the air. I had planned on buying a house, getting a dog, and settling in a bit. I may need that money as part of an exit strategy if things don’t work out. I hope that B haunts me less this year. It’s nothing that she did, other than make me love everything that she did. The other day, for no reason, I could remember how I used to massage the back of her head. Two nights ago my friend Cheri said she thought one of the best things was to be able to really look in to someone’s eyes – and I could remember doing that on so many different nights with B. I know it’s going to take time, I know there will be days that I’ll still think we could work everything out. My friend Ali, who is finalizing her divorce, said she has lots of those days, and its been a few years and she doesn’t even love her ex.
Tonight, Cheri told me she’s been talking with her recent ex boyfriend. I knew she still had feelings for him. Today she bought him a really nice gift – she doesn’t have that type of money. I hate to think she’s trying to buy affection – she doesn’t need to. He’s apologized for not treating her well. They talked about things in ways they hadn’t talked before. She thanked me for helping her think differently… For the last few days, we talked to all hours of the night. Tonight she had to hang up early. I’m not sure we’ll talk again… It was nice for a little bit. Elsewhere on this blog, I’ve questioned my role in this world. As nice as it is to hear that I’m special, that I have a rare gift – it’s hard to accept that my lot is to be the healer, the listener, the one who helps others move on.
Maybe in 2020, I can do less of that… or maybe I should lean in to it more, embrace the gift? Maybe someone I help will want to stay. Maybe they’ll want to support me through a difficult job situation, or some big life decisions. These aren’t things I can will in to existence. Maybe in 2020 I’ll stop waiting…
I read good poem yesterday, or maybe this morning…
It’s a new year. I’ve been playing the same broken note for a while now. Come what may, I hope to continue my beginner’s song, maybe add another note here and there, start to build a symphony, a movement, something undeniably beautiful and complex… and maybe that one note will still rise above all the others, sing out long after the noise has died down, return home full, complete, resonant, and no longer broken.