Sheepish because of her tardy response, yet eager to share...

Dear Leigh,

I'm sorry that it's been two posts since a response from me.  Between graduating, visiting home, and giving my friend Laura the time with me that she deserves, I haven't been too close to my computer too often.

I can relate to the feeling of sort of...not being allowed to enjoy happiness newly found.  For the first couple months with J, I thought the whole world was golden, turning just to make us happy.  It certainly seemed that way, and everyone around us seemed to be just as happy with our relationship as we were.  Once I started hearing complaints, however, our joy felt tainted...

It hurts to feel as though others don't see something that makes you happy as the wonderful thing that you know it is.   It's hard to be more discreet with a relationship that just seems to fit and makes you want to announce to everyone how happy you are, and it's definitely difficult to move forward when former relationships (or non-relationships, as in my case), insist on stepping on the back of your shoes.

I've decided that, in time, my friends will come to appreciate this contentment I've found with another after so many unfortunate others and realize that, if maybe they don't see me as much or see me as much by myself, it's worth it because of how happy I am.  This is kind of a selfish line of thinking, on my part, but I like to believe that, if something came along that gave one of my close friends great joy at the cost of spending some time with me, I'd be able to welcome that thing (whether it's a person or job or hobby) because of its value to my friend.

My point in all of that talking about me is to come back to you and say that once the kids are used to the idea of you and your doctor and once your employer sees that the relationship is not something casual or sinful but something that brings you joy, they'll calm down and you can openly enjoy the happiness you deserve.  As for the marine...that's a wrench that will undoubtedly be difficult to handle, but time is an amazing healer...

Looking forward to the beach, we can both take comfort in the fact that we have a great family that seems to be only happy if we've found something or someone that makes us happy.  My parents think J is great, and you said your parents and brother like your doctor.  I can't help but feel that they'll integrate well with the rest of the family, and that there you can relax and just enjoy sharing the doctor with everyone, away from rumors and suggested discretion.

Much love and compassion...

Sincerely,

Kate

Rain on my Parade

Dear Kate

I am extremely frustrated. I wrote recently about the joy in my life and how it can completely deter inspiration for writing. It feels now, in a sense, kind of a joke because here I sit, upset and frustrated, feeling almost hypocritical to my own thoughts posted just days ago.

I returned from a great respite trip to the mountains. The Smokie’s which surround Ashville have such an intoxicating, contagious tranquility, soothing my anxious spirit. I returned home to an amazing embrace from a wonderful man; home to tails wagging so ferociously that butt’s were hardly able to contain the unbound joy of a “herd” welcoming me home. Smiles radiated from all direction. I never felt so good coming home.

Then, a few days pass…barely. I feel I’ve been home much longer than the few actual days. Last night I was awake, feeling wretched, sleep not willing to join me on the couch, instead misery keeping company. It sucked.

Imagine the face of a child, pure in elation over the extravagant mud pie he lovingly made for his mother, only to have that joy obliterated because mom cannot see past the mud stains on clean trousers? This is certainly hypothetical, but really, that is how I feel suddenly. Like here I am, full of joy from my return, only to have the reality of life smite me like a judge criticizing a piece one has worked hard preparing and performing.

The kids continue their ugly gossip and rumor spreading. When they speak of other youth, their words are poison, their nonchalant attitude breaking my heart. And some still rumble about my new relationship…I ran into a kid while the doc and I were grocery shopping, and have now been told by the “boss” to be “discreet” with my relationship. Um. Since when was grocery shopping a sign that I am living a life of “sin”? That’s it I suppose, no more public outings. Then of course, there is the marine. It kills me the anger in his spirit. Yet I am certainly not strong enough to stay away from him. I hurt for his hurt.

I guess am that sensitive.
Why must there be so much pain, sadness, anger, hostility, vengeance and misery in the world? Then the news opens with reports of China and Burma. It kills me, it really does. Cuz, last night I sat on my couch at two in the morning with tears rolling down my face. I believe it hurts more when your spirit wants to shine out joy, but the world, both close at hand, and oceans away, insists on smudging out that glow with gloom.
It really kills me.

Broccoli

Dear Kate,

I have written before about one of my greatest role models, Anne Lamott, and her book "Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life." I highly recommend it to your reading list. I have my book marked and dogeared to a point beyond recognition.

Anyway, one chapter is titled, "Broccoli." Opening this chapter, Lamott quotes Mel Brooks: "Listen to your broccoli, and your broccoli will tell you how to eat it." Taken one way you may initially think I am telling you to listen to your pop and he will tell you how to write your story. No. I am saying listen to your story and it's characters will tell you how they wish to interact. This is YOUR story. Sure it is based upon your dad's life, but this is still your story.

Another friend once told me that all fiction is based heavily on fact. This part is obvious. You need the information from your dad to make your story believable...to make your story real. We all have read books before where the author failed in the research department, resulting in the story becoming unbelievable. (Why is it we want to believe something meant to be fiction??)

There is a point here...and it is found in the next chapter: "Radio Station: KFKD" that is, K-Fucked: "the single greatest obstacle to listening to your broccoli that exists for writers." Basically it is the voices inside and outside of your brain telling you everything that is wrong with your writing. In one corner, there is a small voice is praising your work. But the other three corners house loud, differing, opinionated voices telling you everything that sucks, what needs to change, what needs removal...three voices telling you what a terrible writer you truly are. And the problem: WE LISTEN TO THOSE VOICES!!!

There really is a point here somewhere. The point: These are your writings. You need to compose YOUR own symphony of words. Ask your dad for some details, but do not tell him the reasoning for your questioning. There is nothing wrong with wanting to sit and listen to stories. You can, should you decide, joke him and tell him you are writing a book based upon his childhood. I used this line for the Doc when we first met, "So, tell me about yourself for I need inspiration for this new book I am planning to write."

Then, write your novella. Upon completion, one of two things can then happen: A. show your dad POST PUBLICATION, or, B. as my dear friend Pablo would suggest, don't publish until the person your character is based upon has passed.

I would personally choose number one. If your dad objects to your story, tell him to go write his own book. Your current plans do not involve ghost writing his personal autobiography.

So, in seriousness, I think I really am going to write that book "Doc in Paperback."
Good luck, ma cousine.

What to do, what to do...

Dear Leigh,

Once again, you're right.  I can't really judge, and better to keep checking in on him than to give up trying in a fit of passive-aggressiveness.  That helps nobody, and, besides, maybe one day soon we'll just start talking like you and Mike did.  One can only hope.

In that vein, a siblings outing at the beach is a good idea.  We can do some cousinly bonding and leave the significant others with the family (which actually doesn't make me at all nervous).  

Random:  So I'm writing this story based on the stories my dad likes to tell about his childhood.  His family lived in Laos and Iran, so there are some interesting settings and situations.  My issue is this:  Since they're stories based on my dad's life, should I be writing them? Shouldn't he be writing them?  My answer to myself is that I'm writing them for  him, but that's not entirely true...because if that were the case, I'd be trying to keep them consistent with the details he gave. Instead, I've taken the situations and some characters and completely fabricated the way things pan out.  It wouldn't be much of an issue except that I need some information about where he lived in Laos and what the socio-economic climate was like at the time.  I'll have to call and explain the premise of my story...I'm worried that a) he'll be annoyed or that b) he'll want me to change what I've written so that it matches exactly what really happened.  Neither would make me happy.

I could just work on a different story, but I've never had so much fun with one as I'm having with this adaptation of episodes from my dad's life...

Oh well.

Sincerely,

Kate

Family

Dear Kate,

I’m glad to hear your day went well. Not celebratory, but not depressing either…a nice mediocre kind of day. I think those are my favorite: days where you don’t need to think about too much heavy stuff and really have no energy for joyous stuff. And two: the fact of that anniversary being not on the front of your brain is probably a benefit. Too often we get so wrapped up in the melancholy that we lose sight of the good… like two month anniversaries with our new found beaus.

But a new stress evolves from this: family reactions and relations. I like to think my brother and I are very close. I have seen interactions between other sets of siblings, and realize that our own relationship still lacks. We do not offer the “I love you’s” with frequency, and hugs involve too much touch. Do I believe we have a poor relationship? Naw.

Let me tell you briefly about little brother. After Matt’s death, we were pretty much separated. Daddy and Michael moved to St. Louis, mom hung out behind with me until I graduated high school. Mike had his life up north, I had mine down south. I got married, Michael got married. Even though he lived with me portions of that timeframe, I still never really felt much closeness with him. I actually felt closer with his wife.

So, Michael got divorced. I got divorced. I resented him for his, as I think he resented me for mine.

Then, I am not sure how it happened. One day we started talking. One day we started forming this bond. One day we became more than just a brother and sister in name, but in relationship. It was weird. Evolving from this was the code: Family First. I helped him move to Mobile, I supported his move to Crestview. I was and still am there for him when he has girl trouble. I would still stand up to anyone who crossed my brother for malice. In the same way I trust he would do for me.

Yet we are not perfect. We don’t always see eye to eye, and his “Pity Party’s of One” grow old really quick. Though if I ever discovered he were in town without my knowing, I would be pissed. If I sent him a gift, I think I would expect an expression of thanks… it is simply good form. When crisis happens, I would demand my brother’s attention for good will, rather than a job perk.

So I guess I am slightly upset with your brother and his hiatus, because I feel the same as you when my brother pulls that crap.

But I am also missing his side of the story, therefore do not feel justified to pass judgment. I do not think you are overlooking this relationship gap. I think you two need to find a bridge to cover that space, forming a familial relationship you need. Some simple you and John time. Perhaps express to him some of your transgressions without getting all sappy dappy. Call to check on him more often, without being obsessive. Open up lines of communication… I think he will respond. He may think awkwardness at first, but I believe he will come to his senses.

Perhaps during beach week, we can do a sibling outing, leaving the beau’s at home with the rest of the family… scary, but I’m strangely comfortable with it.

One year out

Dear Leigh,

It's odd.  When I first started reading your post, I thought that you were talking about mine and Jeremiah's two-month, which was last Friday.  I thought, "How does she know?  I didn't think I mentioned it," but then as I read on I realized...you're referring to the 16th.  It's a little embarrassing to me that it's not absolutely at the forefront of my mind.  At the front, no doubt, but not the very front...

-----------------

4/16 

Dear Leigh, 

So far I've spent the day doing what you mentioned.  I've been remembering, but also cherishing the relationships I have and, in particular, the new relationship I have with J.  We went to campus for a bit to retrace our steps, walk where we walked a year ago, and listen to President Steger talk.  It's been somber, but not in a crippling way.  I relived last year for a bit and got my catharsis in, then we went downtown to get coffee and talk about mundane things, plans for the future, etc.  It's been nice to just take a day to do whatever I need...whether it's walking around campus and placing myself directly in the center of my memory of what happened last year or walking a couple miles around downtown and back to my apartment.

I've even gotten a chance to talk to my mom a little bit, though my parents are across the Atlantic and unable to call.  She's adapted to instant messaging for a few weeks (their cruise ship has an internet cafe).  Not a horrible day.  By no means happy, but thoughtful and not lonely or desperate in any way...

Except one.  The speeches on the drillfield made me tear up, of course, and I've felt an inexplicable fatigue and weight walking around campus and back to the apartment, but what affected me most (in a negative way) was getting on facebook and seeing my brother's status, which read "heading to blacksburg for the night."

...

Could've mentioned something to me about it.  But he didn't...and I'm trying not to feel resentful, just like I tried not to feel resentful last year when he didn't answer my texts and only called me the morning of the 18th to ask if I or one of my friends would do an interview.  At 8:30 in the morning.  And just like I tried not to feel resentful after getting no response to my "happy birthday" message a couple days ago, and no message about his birthday present (which I know aren't supposed to be given with the expectation of thanks, but still).  I'm focusing on loving all of the relationships I have, and in doing so I find something meaningful in each until I start thinking about my brother, and then I wonder why...I can't build anything there, make any headway, feel at all like he cares that I'm his sister (except in the most minimal sense).

Maybe there's something I'm not seeing.  Thoughts?

Sincerely,

Kate

Anniversaries

Dear Kate,

It’s interesting how an anniversary can affect our structure of life. When we begin new relationships, it is the gag cutesy little “it’s our one week anniversary…our six month…” ect. But that one year mark is always a celebration, regardless of dating or marital status. It’s the blissful, “we made it this far, we must really love each other, let’s celebrate with dinner and dancing” kind of moment.

But the one year anniversary’s of the devastating kind…there is no thought of getting dressed up to go party. At most, it may facilitate a want of donning a pair of jeans and an old hoodie, finding the local hole in the wall, and drinking away pain associated with the memory. We all have those dates. Sometimes the dates are personal, like the anniversary of my brother’s death. I still don’t know what to do with myself sometimes. Then there are the grander scale tragedies, like you and the survivors at Virginia Tech. I cannot imagine that numb feeling you must be having thinking of the date, realizing you should commemorate in some way, but how?

You (hypothetically speaking, not you personally) may think, “Should we celebrate life?” No, that somehow does not seem quite fair. “Should we continue to mourn those who have suffered?” No, those dwellings of pain can be unhealthy. We have to move on, step forward. Find that comfortable balance between joy and grief. The balance of melancholy bliss leading us introspectively into the ideas of the surrounding world. We open our eyes towards both the present and the “great” beyond, whose existence we love to question.

While I was still living in Panama City, I used to spend Matt’s anniversary at the cemetery. I started a tradition which I’ve had to modify since moving away. I used to go to the grave site and sit on the little bench mom and dad had placed there. I would light two cigarettes, place one by the marker, and smoke the other. I don’t know why my memories of my brother smoking felt cool, but I smoked to be like him. Over time, the trend has changed. I no longer sit at the site on the first of August, I no longer “smoke” with my brother. And sadly, sometimes I feel worse for not practicing those rituals. It is like I am forgetting my brother’s importance in my life.
But I’m not. I’m just growing. And I think perhaps I will find a new tradition this coming August, to honor my brother’s life, and to mourn his passing.

What does this have to do with you? I hope you hear me advising you to find that comfort zone where you can celebrate the lives of those around you at Tech while still mourning those who have gone on. I hope you hear me saying that this commemoration is something YOU must create. We can send ourselves into an unhealthy territory when we get so wrapped up in what the media elects to put on display before our eyes and ears. I worry about the misconstrued perspectives we gain when we allow others to mediate our own emotions.

Cousine, do what feels right for you. Find your own tradition where you can comfortably mourn the losses that happened so close to you, yet still thanking whomever you choose to thank that there are those around still to continue pushing forward in life, accomplishing goals and setting standards for which future generations can aspire.