Atomictumor

Communication. Its getting harder. Not really the putting words together, the part of me that could bullshit an comp paper (and, I confess, wrote a few of BJ’s papers) could blab on, and it might not make a difference, nobody would notice.

The feeling is gone tho. When BJ was sick, and there was hope, I was able to apply part of myself into this thing, invest it. Now that its slowly sinking in that she is d-e-a-d, well, I’m trying to keep making this matter. Not as much for you guys, although I understand on some level that you guys kinda need it too, but for me to read it later, in years, or days, to come. For me to remember how this went.

And right now, its going slowly. I totally set aside an appointment for Anguish to stop by, and the son of a bitch stood me up. Instead, he sent some weird little bastard called Abnegation, and this vicious little thug called Apathy. I’m not exactly sure what the deal is. Yesterday STARTED about right, with my plan to pretty much go go where the winds of either God or my subconscious (still have a hard time telling the two apart, which is starting to eat at me vis a vis my conversations with BJ, but at least the A brothers aren’t letting me linger in that direction). It allowed me to find GAC’s memorial, it allowed me to sit in on the end of a painless chapel sermon, it allowed me to discover that the warmth, and pulse, in BJ’s body has stilled. Maybe tomorrow that body will burn?

The fingernails, those sweet little toes I was so afraid of losing, that left hand, unmarred, that gave me so much hope that God would bring her back, her 20/600 eyes with their magical color properties, all of her (yes, I was thinking of those parts, but didn’t write them because she’s a lady and I’m a gentlemen, harumph) are going to be gone. Maybe today.

—

I was going to elaborate on yesterday while I still have words to do it (communication is getting easier, Abnegation and Apathy must be in the shower or fixing a sandwich).

So, I drove down to BJ’s parents house after my post on the roof. They’re taking it so hard. The stuff I’m not able to feel, that I’d like to feel, they’re all up in. Even BJ’s dad, who is a model of stoicism, says he has to watch TV or his heart will break.

She was their baby girl, their littlest one. I can’t imagine, I really can’t. I lost something, and maybe something more, but they lost something I can’t understand either.

And, truth is, despite all of the love and respect I have for her folks, I don’t really understand how they tick, and it makes it hard to do much more than pat them on the back. Yesterday, when I was talking about the irish wake on Saturday, BJ’s Dad reminded me, as if he has to “Don’t forget about those two boys”.

I didn’t get pissed about that until I left. But I did. But, I don’t think he meant it that way. I was noticing yesterday, as the day progressed, that I was getting really defensive, internally. Are we progressing from denial to anger?

I finally went and found this, enjoy. BJ and I laughed our asses off when we saw it.

—

I took my leave of BJ’s folks with a hug and a kiss. They gave me some pictures for the wake, and made me promise not to lose them (another thing I got irritated about later). I need to remember not to act like I’m holding the kids hostage from them, because they may see it that way. I’ll take em over when their grief isn’t so close to the surface, because the boys wouldn’t like to see them this way.

So, I got in the car, and opened myself up to whatever wind it is that blows me. I found myself driving east on Kingston Pike. I figured I’d visit Mojo and superT, who have been our oldest friends (as a couple).

I called ahead, and luckily, T was off work (Vet student, graduating in may, UT vet school currently has 9/10s possession on her soul). I hung out with them for a good while, and we had a great time. I found a wifi signal down there that worked (gotta love the unsecured signal, buddy), and we drank some beer. T was cool enough to have run out and got some Left-Hand Milk Stout, so we drank to BJ. That was her beer, although she never liked to drink too much of the same thing.

Tina told me a story. I’ll tell you now.

—

Now, BJ and Tina went to the same church, a Baptist church in Andersonville, hen they were growing up. Tina was 3 years younger than BJ, and really looked up to her. She would see in the papers that announced who would call on shut-in’s, that BJ’s name was always on top of the list.

She was dedicated to the church, until hypocrisy and a death of a friend turned her against it, and all churches. BJ always got really, really pissed at the things she loved that hurt her. She was so loyal, and in her code, hypocrisy was a great offense.

So, because of their age difference, T didn’t see BJ until her freshman year of high school. BJ was in her senior year by then, and evidently everybody knew who she was.

They had, T explained, a social studies class together during that year, evidently BJ had put it off, and T was getting it over with.

BJ arrived to class about 5 minutes fasionably late, wearing her long, curly, mass of hair, a loose tye-dye t-shirt, bell bottom pants, and nothing on her feet. T said that she was just so damn cool. She was completely comfortable in her skin, and coming in barefoot like that was all balls.

Of course, the class murmured about the freak coming in barefoot.

T said that BJ did that the next three days, until the teacher finally sent her to the VP’s office, where they told her that she had to wear shoes.

BJ kinda took T and introduced the freshman to her older friends, Eaves, and others that haven’t been mentioned on the site. T said that that was the coolest thing. I guess BJ took her under her wing, for a while.

—

And thats BJ. And I had her all to myself for 10 years.

After I left Mojo and T’s house, I took the long way home, down middlebrook, but didn’t find anything but fatigue. I plopped in bed at about 6 (after realizing that the moment in the van when I thought of the 5:30 visit would have been 5:30, meaning that I didn’t miss one of them yesterday), and tinkered around ever since.

I found the CD of the pictures of our wedding renewal, which Bos or Eaves mentioned that we never put up on the site.

I watched those pictures and wondered if the infection was already in her. She got sick two weeks later, and died a month and three days after that day. She melted my heart, with her vows, and I don’t remember now what they are. I was so looking forward to the rest of our lives.

—

I’m planning on waking up, getting some coffee, taking a shower, maybe cleaning up a little bit (since I can’t rely on her to do it anymore), and then heading to the funeral home and getting that business over.

I guess eventually I need to talk to HR at work about the life insurance payout.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 20th, 2006 at 7:53 am and is filed under Pain, Rambling, Love. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.