Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Pull me under.
Originally uploaded by STERLINGDAVISPHOTO
Today went really well for me. I had a quiet day of reading and gardening. Yes, more gardening. In the afternoon the boys and I drove out to the beach for a quick swim in the ocean. We weren't there for more than an hour, then back to the house. It is such a luxury to live so close to the ocean that we can just drive over for a quick swim. Later this evening we were back out for a late dinner. It was at that point that we got onto the road to return home. As I drove onto the freeway I notice the signs that led back to the beach. Immediately my mind turned to our honeymoon, and I have been feeling the pain of grief washing over me since.
Michael loved the ocean, and our honeymoon was spent in Puerto Vallarta. Forgive me if I have shared this with you before, but you have to be a patient listener when sitting with a widower. We need to share our stories over and over again. They are all we have now.
Michael and I were married on October 19, 2008. We were just one of thousands of gay and lesbian couples who took advantage of the brief opportunity to legally wed in California. We never imagined that this would be possible in our lifetime, not to mention in Michael's lifetime. At the time that the California Supreme Court had made it's ruling allowing us to marry, Michael was already beating the odds of survival with his brain tumor. We spent a good part of the summer planning, and arguing, about our wedding day. It was such a stressful time, as we were trying to rush through the planning stages that most couples take a good year to do. We didn't have that kind of time. We knew that come November our lovely neighbors, and fellow citizens of California, could likely vote away our short lived right to marry.
Anyway, we did get married, and had a lovely ceremony. We waited a couple of weeks after the wedding to leave for our honeymoon. Just about that time Michael was beginning to become symptomatic from his tumor. We would later learn, about a month later, that his tumor had begun to regrow. In spite of these symptoms, we were determine to have the most marvelous and romantic honeymoon. Michael wasn't able to walk too long, so we took a taxi everywhere in Puerto Vallarta. One evening, after a late dinner, were had the taxi drop us off near the ocean so that we could take an evening stroll. The night air was so calm, and so warm. The ocean looked beautiful, and we decided that we wanted to get into it somehow. As we had just come from dinner, we were not exactly dressed for swimming, and Mexico has very strict rules about public nudity. I noticed that a couple of small boutiques selling swimsuits were still open, so I told Michael that we should run over and quickly buy new swimsuits. We both ran into separate stores, and both exited wearing new bathing suits.
Michael and I both felt like little children. At that moment we had not a care in the world. I can still see his beautiful smile, and his twinkling eyes. We threw our clothes onto the shore and ran into the ocean. It all felt so refreshing. We swam, and we played, and we embraced there in the water. I can still feel his salty lips on mine, and the warm sensation of his arms around me. When we grew tired, we both laid out on the shore, and stared straight up into the moon lit night. Life was perfect. I have never been more happy. I loved him with all my heart and soul.
I still love him with all my heart and soul.
Tonight as I drove onto the freeway, and noticed the signs leading back to the beach, that is exactly where my thoughts went. Back to the beach, with Michael. I suddenly feel like I have been keeping myself so busy, or otherwise keeping my mind occupied, so that I wouldn't have to feel this depth of pain. I fucking hate life during these moments. How the hell did I go from total bliss to this?
I fail to understand why this had to happen, or why it had to happen to us. I know that I sound like a broken record. I don't really care. You know, on Friday it will be 11 months since Michael died, and I still don't know if I have seen him in a dream. What is that about? I think it's because I have willed myself not to dream of him. I often think it would be so much harder to get through all of this if he kept showing up at night, only to have me wake up the next morning with my reality. I don't know if that is really why I don't dream of him. I'm not that powerful.
You know, I think people expect that I am not in such pain, or that it can''t still feel so raw. I hide it well. I wear this armor all the time. It is not big, or heavy, or metal even. It is as soft as my skin. It bears all of my tattoos. It reaches up to my face, where it often wears a smile. It tells others that I am doing just fine. Tonight it feels like a lie.
I'm sitting here in my room looking out over the city lights. I wish I could just disappear into them and never be heard of again. People would say, I wonder what ever happened to him? It wouldn't matter to me, as long as I was with him again.
It's a good thing I'm not that close to the beach. It would be so tempting to walk into the ocean and let the undertow take me away.
Posted by Dan at 11:42 PM