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Friday, May 18, 2018

Death and the Maiden

I dreamed that I killed someone. The vic was someone I knew well but, in the dream, his ID was never revealed. I had no choice re: offing this person. It was, basically, self defense. I poisoned him before he had a chance to end me.

And then I had to beat feet FAST – make good my escape.

It was gonna be tight. I drove off (in an ancient station wagon, hauling a wee trailer)…where?! I woke, still in the throes of this crazyosity, wondering where I could go and be safe. I was panicked that I didn’t have fake ID and utterly freaked about getting caught and going to jail.

Which, naturally, leads to a song. Doesn’t everything in life?

Wednesday I saw the mouth physical therapist. I’ve a few exercises that I need to do twice daily. Consistently! This includes deep breathing drills because, apparently, I’m viciously tense. Gee…RILLY!? Relaxing, it would seem, will help me regain my embouchure. Huh. K. This won’t happen instantly. This is a journey. There are no magic pills *sigh* I’ll see Mara again in a month.

And yesterday was my annual with the neuro-op. RIGHT before I was called in, I had the beginning of a text exchange with a man I’d once and for a long time, considered a brother-in-arms. For years and years, we hung out together on the mega regular. That ended, abruptly-ish, after he began dating the woman who became his wife. I always knew he’d, likely, vanish after he met THE ONE. It’s just how he was – he became a part of the woman he was involved with – her life became his. His was only hers.

Though this was expected, I was very sad to be DQed, to lose his friendship, the camaraderie.

We eventually became tangentially connected on ShoutyFace. This is where I saw, just yesterday, a cryptic post of his along with a bunch of ominous comments from his chums. There were posts proclaiming love, prayers and support. Looked like, mebbe, Geo had more going on than just a bad summer cold.

I texted him, totally not expecting an answer. He replied. I was stunned. Even more so when he said that he has stage four bladder cancer. He was diagnosed the month after my totally Amazing Bob shuffled off this mortal coil. Geo's been fighting ever since. Things don’t look good – shit's spreading. He begins yet another round of chemo on Monday.

What do you say to an old friend, someone you haven’t been close with in 15 years, someone who pushed you away? What to say when the bomb drops?

I said that I was happy he has Chrissy and her family. Happy that they have that glorious weekend house, high on a mountain in New Hampshire. Beauty helps ease pain, I said. He allowed that they’re unable to get up there much now. I invited him and Chrissy to come spend a day or more down here, sitting on the seawall – wave gazing. The ocean is calming – a powerful, gorgeous balm.

He didn't say no but, in so many words, he said no.

I doubt I'll see him again.


  1. When I try to teach the younguns how to deal with The Gift, the nial, I tell them it's always better to go with the hem than the haw. Learned it the hard way, I did, but now that the hurt is past I can appreciate why she wouldn't see me. Afterall, the deal was, when we parted, that it's always better to be the one that got away. To always be as we were, not what we become.

  2. the "nial" – was ist das?

    "always be as we were, not what we become."

    Yes. Geo and I were great friends for a long time. We shared some tremendous times/conversations and I'm happier/richer for it. I think I'll put those in amber and forget about all the rest.

  3. I think about that sometimes with some people, even when they're not terminally ill: "I am probably never going to see this person again."

    It's a weird feeling to talk to someone when you realize that.

  4. Such a sad realization, that you may never see someone again. Even in a case such as this, where it isn't as though they've been a part of your life so much in years... still sad, realizing that the end is inevitable - and even minus illnesses and such, sometimes, it's just the last time you will ever see a person, and perhaps things would have been different had you realized that then.

    1. I'm attempting to focus on and appreciate my good memories of Geo. That and I'll, in the words of the late great Warren Zevon, Enjoy Every Sandwich.