http://www.motionbox.com/filings?folder_id=2374712
Leaves me with a lump in my throat.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Tasting memories
Peter, my mom, L and I were at a neighbor's for dinner tonight. While I was sitting on the couch, L was rummaging through the candy bowl next to me. Yes, our neighbor is 85 years old.
She took out the strawberry candies, then two bite-sized Snickers to uncover two Creamsavers. You know the ones -- hard lifesaver candies swirled with "creme." They're really tasty, and Alice loved them before I ever tried one. Even though it was before dinner, actually right before dinner, I unwrapped one and put it in my mouth. It didn't go very well with the cosmo(!) I was drinking, but...
It was so smooth, flavorful and not too sweet. It's a way I can feel closer to Alice, even just for the duration of the sugar dissolving in my mouth, and I'm grateful.
I remember her telling me about them around 5 years ago, all excited, by my mom's candy bowl in the family room. All animated, with no irony whatsover. Alice could appreciate some of the simpler things, which I'm learning to do myself. With her help.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Revising, or trying not to
My mom often quotes the film Savannah Smiles, saying "we were just joshin', and jokin' and jivin'..." and it was funny. Alice and my mom had rented this flick about a young girl who's kidnapped by really nice ex-convicts and they make a loving makeshift family for a few days, and Alice and my mom both quoted the movie in this way.
Flash forward to this week, my mom is visiting from California, and I got her the dvd so we could watch it together. I waited for 97 minutes to hear the quotation, and it never came. There was a part where little Savannah says something, with like three or four actions in a row, but nothing close to what my mom said.
It gets me thinking.
I'm terrified of revising Alice's story. This blog is an attempt to chronicle some of Alice's life, relative to me, and I am so afraid that I may one day resort to making up details to fill in the blanks. Or create something that sounds nice but never was, like the joshin' and jivin' line.
The motion picture was really sweet, and I can see why Alice liked it; I liked it, too, and of course so did my mom and Peter. You see the good side to these "bad guys," and I think Alice related to that. She always wanted to save the down and out, the less fortunate, those who had been in trouble.
Flash forward to this week, my mom is visiting from California, and I got her the dvd so we could watch it together. I waited for 97 minutes to hear the quotation, and it never came. There was a part where little Savannah says something, with like three or four actions in a row, but nothing close to what my mom said.
It gets me thinking.
I'm terrified of revising Alice's story. This blog is an attempt to chronicle some of Alice's life, relative to me, and I am so afraid that I may one day resort to making up details to fill in the blanks. Or create something that sounds nice but never was, like the joshin' and jivin' line.
The motion picture was really sweet, and I can see why Alice liked it; I liked it, too, and of course so did my mom and Peter. You see the good side to these "bad guys," and I think Alice related to that. She always wanted to save the down and out, the less fortunate, those who had been in trouble.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
Those red cups
I've been meeting some of my clients at a local starbux, and I've observed a few staff meetings in progress there. About a month ago there was a discussion among employees about the red cups coming out for the holidays. One of the stores had mistakenly started using them early, causing a bit of a brouhaha.It made me think of Alice right away. Not the brouhaha part -- well, maybe the brouhaha part -- but more so the red cups at Christmas part. There I'd be, waiting for my next appointment, thinking of Alice, with a pit in my stomach. The kind that silently screams something's wrong, and will never be right. It feels like I f`cked something up in my life that can never be fixed. It's the utterness of hopelessness right in my gut.
I just see her smiling so much in my visions of her, with energy to ignite us both. Sometimes I feel her energy well up inside me, then it slips past my fingers, I can't hold on to it. During this period of holidays, I wish for some of her contagious effusiveness; it sure would be nice to keep.
Back to starbux coffee, Alice f`cking loved it. She was the first person I knew to be a fan of the frapuchino (misspellings intentional) before it caught on. At the time, around 1996, I was like "frapu-what?" She said that she liked her coffee more like candy or ice cream. We laughed.
I like candy and ice cream, too, but I've lately faulted starbux for being ubiquitous in New York. And their marketing machine seems particularly powerful, as I've been wanting one of those peppermint coffees since the red cups emerged last month. Is it the advertising working unconsciously, or Alice? Last night I finally had one.
From the night sky -- it was 4:45pm in mid-December after all -- fell a wintry mix. More accurately, small bits of hail were pelting my face as Peter and I sought a place to have a long-overdue evening date. Lo and behold, we passed a starbux and I felt it. I said to him "Do you want to go in?" meaning, "I want to go in," so we did. I ordered a short peppermint mocha, with whipped cream, and forgot to ask for decaf. Peter had a regular coffee.
Out of embarrassment I just tried to omit the detail about the donut I also ordered. I needed to quell the despair of the moment, having a candy coffee in memory of my departed sister Alice. Donuts overtake any feeling I have with their blunt sweetness and heaviness. In a strange way, I needed relief from my gloom coupled with the intensity of such closeness with Alice. She never would have had a donut, I don't think she liked them. The donut was a way to create distance between us and keep my self from getting intertwined with her. Although her criticism (in my head) of the amount of saturated fat I was consuming didn't let me stray too far.
I savored the drink for Alice, and for myself. It was rich, warm on my tongue yet minty cool in my mouth. She sure knew a good thing. I was grateful to her for getting me to taste the delicious beverage, and remember her sweetly.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
"Cute-ass baby"
Peter and I were walking down the street today, L in his arms. As we passed a young man and woman, I heard the woman say "That was a cute-ass baby."
I repeated what she said to Peter, who hadn't heard it. He chuckled.
Then I thought Alice would appreciate this moment. I wanted to call her and tell her, and she would say "ohhooo, she's right! How is my cute-ass boubrig?" in her typical, exuberant manner. I would appreciate her excitement as a representation of what I also felt inside, yet I would have difficulty joining her at the same level of energy. We could easily go from happy to snappy in a flash, so I was careful.
Of course I didn't call her. Instead I realized in her absence I could write about this all in my blog, to find some comfort in expressing it.
It doesn't change the yearning I feel to talk to her and connect with her and laugh with her, still.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Love, peace and harmony.
Tonight I went to see Morrissey in concert, he's playing five shows this week. As soon as he started singing, I realized this was the first live show I've attended since Alice's death. There were shows I wanted to see in the last year, yet my heart just wasn't into it.Morrissey rocked. I basically cried through the whole set, mostly because I was thinking about Alice. He opened with one of my favorite songs ever, "Stop Me If You Think You've Heard this One Before" from the Smiths circa 1987.
I was soon transported to our home growing up.
It was as if I was sitting in the family room, and Alice was in the living room listening to this album on the record player, with the "tone" setting on low. I could see her sitting on the rust colored carpet, because my mom preferred we not sit on her relatively new sofas, with the album and sleeve splayed out before her. It felt like I was a sophomore in high school all over again, and I missed being with her, even though necessarily in the background of this picture are feelings of hostility, aggression and instability coming from our quarreling parents.
He also performed "Death of a Disco Dancer" from the same album Strageways Here We Come making my time travel experience seem that much more real. I sang along
"Love, peace and harmony
very nice, very nice, very nice
but maybe in the next world"
and thought how Alice and my mom shared this hope for love, peace and harmony among all of us. I'm inclined to think it's a pipedream, as Moz is saying.
What felt good, in a strange way, was his openness about death. He's always been dark, still, he tore into a song called "One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell" in which he sang again and again "and you will never see the ones you love again." I wondered if he was speaking from experience, and how I knew well the pain in what he described. He prefaced the song with "I know you think you'll go on forever." And it just isn't true.
To be sure, he also presented a more loving demeanor, a surprise for me. He changed the words in the first song from "I still love you/only slightly less" to "I still love you/only slightly more." Maybe I just didn't see his kinder side before?
Morrissey's most recent album opens with "I Will See You in Far Off Places" which evokes Alice for me. I see Alice in far off places, because I take her there with me. So it's fitting that I sensed and felt her at the show tonight.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
San Diego Bud
Well, I went to L.A. to mark the one year anniversary of Alice's death on September 19th. My mom had said that instead of paying the priest to bless Alice's grave, let's go to Warehouse Pizza and remember her with her friends. Thriftiness before godliness? So this is what we did, but first I posted a notice on the blog.
The morning of Alice's anniversary, I went to the public library to check-in on the blog, and indeed there was a response from a friend of Alice's in San Diego. I was really touched to realize that Eneri clearly had been holding on to Alice for the last year, that Alice had made an impression in such a short time. Well, maybe I wasn't surprised about the magical effect Alice could have on her friends.
I want to write more about the anniversary day, in the meantime here is the poem that Eneri wrote for Alice, published on her blog myspace.com/djqueenb. (Note: you must be a myspace user to access her pages.)
-----
She spoke to my soul in ways...
Current mood: melancholy
She was one of those people who's aura spoke to your soul within minutes of you shaking her hand hello, like somehow the energie that traveled with her knew how to speak to the void in your heart, the void in your life, the emptiness that surrounded you. I only hung out with her a handful of times, and she managed to leave an imprint on my mind like she was permanent, like I knew she could have been a best friend.
Her name was Alice Chahinian. She was the party when the party needed one, she was the light that lit up a room when she walked in, she was the energie you felt when you began to feel warm. There was something about her, something about her smile, her laugh, her ability to be so fucking hilarious when you needed to laugh. Our friendship was short lived, but it managed to change my life.
One year ago today Alice and I had planned to have dinner together. I thought it would be great to have Vietnamese and then visit our friend Rahul at City College who was tutoring there. The three of us were faculty interns there at the time and had hit it off. I had called him to let him know the plan. Only Alice never showed up. I thought maybe something had come up, so I called a few times and waited. She never came. And then I got the email. The night before she had been in a fatal car accident coming home from Ocean Beach.
What was most striking to me was that we had originally planned to have dinner the night before. I had gotten out of class, I was exhausted and tired. I spoke to her on the phone and rainchecked with her. She was at a liquor store in Ocean Beach. She was bummed but agreed to have dinner the next night. Then she asked something to the effect of, "Okay what kind of cigarettes should I buy? We're gonna share them but you will have the pack with you at all times, hehe, because you know, I don't smoke." She was a faculty intern in Excercise Sciences. Hilarious. So I told her that if she wanted to feel better about it, we should go for American Spirits, the light blue pack.
"Alright girl, I am so excited about tomorrow. Sorry I didn't have the energie tonight but maybe tomorrow we can have that bowl and shit." And with that we said goodbye. A few minutes later, she was in a car accident. I am not sure, but I think I might have been one of the last people to talk to her. The next night, Rahul ended up coming over and we went to Mission Beach. We rode the roller coaster in her memory. For some time after that I kept asking myself, why did I bail on her like that? If I had just prioritized friendships over academics for once, she would have taken a different route to my house, why am i so selfish? Could I have prevented it? I never got to know the deeper side of her, it was so soon, why did this happen? Were the goddesses trying to tell me something? But in the end, questions like that only lead to unhealthy processing. And I know I couldn't go down that route.
Today I write about her and remember her presence in my life. I will go to LA and have pizza and beer with her family, I will watch the sunset in her honor, journal in her memory, I will live and experience life the way she would have wanted everyone to, with a smile on their face.
I blogged about her last year on my livejournal account. Her brother somehow found it, and decided to start a blog in her memory as well. You can read more about Alice here: http://www.alicechahinian.blogspot.com/. This is a poem I have been working on for almost a year. Today, on the anniversary of Alice's passing, I can finally consider it finished.
Dear Alice
by Eneri Rodriguez
September 19, 2007
Dear Alice,
I was in the middle of a sentence with you
That has been interrupted, forever.
I spoke about you like the way you speak of a new soul that enters your lifetime
And dramatically upsets the balance in your life
You upset mine something awful, like you made it hard to breath sometimes,
that's how floored i was.
Floored in ways that made me realize how much I take life for granted
I don't let myself stop to and take in the scent of life happenings, or even catch my breath,
Have dinner with the people in my life
Write these thoughts down,
i've lived in San Diego my whole life and I can count how many times i've watched the sunset on my two hands.
I want to do these things more.
I want to enjoy life more,
especially with you.
You caused an imbalance in my life like something awful.
Like how as much as I like to think of myself
As the know it all chicana feminist in the movement
You put me on blast for assuming you were white.
Your skin color spoke to me in ways that I grew resistant to.
Forgive me for denying you of your ethnicity,
of your beauty.
Don't ever stop calling me out when I fuck up like that.
I was in the middle of a sentence with you
That has been interrupted, forever.
And how is it that for the first time in a long time I felt safe with you
In ways I hadn't felt for so long?
How is it that you've managed to cast a spell on me that speaks of multiple lifetimes
unexplored dreams of skipping rocks with sea urchins at night
running across sands of trust and testimonies that caused me to fall in love with you
over a period of time that speaks in speeds that only light particles travel in?
Alice,
Did you know that I am the youngest of two
And that my parents are still married after 30 years?
Or that I am in a queer identified relationship?
Did you know that I was in an abusive relationship for two years,
Or that in college I was stalked by a professor who everyone loved
and that he almost raped me?
Alice, I have never felt so silenced as i did then.
Did you know that I have lived in San Diego off and on for twenty five years
Most recently to escape from him?
Alice, did you know that I write poetry sometimes?
And when I am depressed I like to write music too
Mostly in the shower but these days on the mic.
I like to make zines
I still send letters the snail mail kind of way
I find mixed cds ritualistic and sacred
In fact I was beginning to craft one for you,
I didn't have an exact theme but it involved a bit of Iron & Wine, Zap Mama and some Otis Redding.
And I eat at Lalos, Thai Time, and Dao Son on a regular basis.
I don't eat fish but I eat sushi with cream cheese and tofu, and on the day you died,
I ate white fish for the first time in my life.
I hate to wear hoodies with t-shirts underneath them,
I find them dramatically uncomfortable.
And after smoking a bowl (which we never got to together despite the many conversations)
I like to watch Carnivale, the L-Word, Twin Peaks and play Soul Caliber.
Alice, I want to know all about you now.
And by the way, in the last three years
I have lost my friend Joy De La Cruz
my half brother,
my grandmother,
And now
I have lost you.…
I was in the middle of a sentence with you
That has been interrupted, forever.
How is it that you have come and gone so quickly that
at times these days it seems your memory is beginning to fade?
I waited for you on Wednesday.
You said we'd have dinner, but you never came.
I thought you had stood me up.
But now,
Instead
I write you this letter
Have this conversation with you
Smoke the pack of cigarettes we were going to share,
I ride the Coaster at Mission Beach like we planned to,
Knowing that I was in the middle of a sentence with you
that has been interrupted, forever.
9:11 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment
The morning of Alice's anniversary, I went to the public library to check-in on the blog, and indeed there was a response from a friend of Alice's in San Diego. I was really touched to realize that Eneri clearly had been holding on to Alice for the last year, that Alice had made an impression in such a short time. Well, maybe I wasn't surprised about the magical effect Alice could have on her friends.
I want to write more about the anniversary day, in the meantime here is the poem that Eneri wrote for Alice, published on her blog myspace.com/djqueenb. (Note: you must be a myspace user to access her pages.)
-----
She spoke to my soul in ways...
Current mood: melancholy
She was one of those people who's aura spoke to your soul within minutes of you shaking her hand hello, like somehow the energie that traveled with her knew how to speak to the void in your heart, the void in your life, the emptiness that surrounded you. I only hung out with her a handful of times, and she managed to leave an imprint on my mind like she was permanent, like I knew she could have been a best friend.
Her name was Alice Chahinian. She was the party when the party needed one, she was the light that lit up a room when she walked in, she was the energie you felt when you began to feel warm. There was something about her, something about her smile, her laugh, her ability to be so fucking hilarious when you needed to laugh. Our friendship was short lived, but it managed to change my life.
One year ago today Alice and I had planned to have dinner together. I thought it would be great to have Vietnamese and then visit our friend Rahul at City College who was tutoring there. The three of us were faculty interns there at the time and had hit it off. I had called him to let him know the plan. Only Alice never showed up. I thought maybe something had come up, so I called a few times and waited. She never came. And then I got the email. The night before she had been in a fatal car accident coming home from Ocean Beach.
What was most striking to me was that we had originally planned to have dinner the night before. I had gotten out of class, I was exhausted and tired. I spoke to her on the phone and rainchecked with her. She was at a liquor store in Ocean Beach. She was bummed but agreed to have dinner the next night. Then she asked something to the effect of, "Okay what kind of cigarettes should I buy? We're gonna share them but you will have the pack with you at all times, hehe, because you know, I don't smoke." She was a faculty intern in Excercise Sciences. Hilarious. So I told her that if she wanted to feel better about it, we should go for American Spirits, the light blue pack.
"Alright girl, I am so excited about tomorrow. Sorry I didn't have the energie tonight but maybe tomorrow we can have that bowl and shit." And with that we said goodbye. A few minutes later, she was in a car accident. I am not sure, but I think I might have been one of the last people to talk to her. The next night, Rahul ended up coming over and we went to Mission Beach. We rode the roller coaster in her memory. For some time after that I kept asking myself, why did I bail on her like that? If I had just prioritized friendships over academics for once, she would have taken a different route to my house, why am i so selfish? Could I have prevented it? I never got to know the deeper side of her, it was so soon, why did this happen? Were the goddesses trying to tell me something? But in the end, questions like that only lead to unhealthy processing. And I know I couldn't go down that route.
Today I write about her and remember her presence in my life. I will go to LA and have pizza and beer with her family, I will watch the sunset in her honor, journal in her memory, I will live and experience life the way she would have wanted everyone to, with a smile on their face.
I blogged about her last year on my livejournal account. Her brother somehow found it, and decided to start a blog in her memory as well. You can read more about Alice here: http://www.alicechahinian.blogspot.com/. This is a poem I have been working on for almost a year. Today, on the anniversary of Alice's passing, I can finally consider it finished.
Dear Alice
by Eneri Rodriguez
September 19, 2007
Dear Alice,
I was in the middle of a sentence with you
That has been interrupted, forever.
I spoke about you like the way you speak of a new soul that enters your lifetime
And dramatically upsets the balance in your life
You upset mine something awful, like you made it hard to breath sometimes,
that's how floored i was.
Floored in ways that made me realize how much I take life for granted
I don't let myself stop to and take in the scent of life happenings, or even catch my breath,
Have dinner with the people in my life
Write these thoughts down,
i've lived in San Diego my whole life and I can count how many times i've watched the sunset on my two hands.
I want to do these things more.
I want to enjoy life more,
especially with you.
You caused an imbalance in my life like something awful.
Like how as much as I like to think of myself
As the know it all chicana feminist in the movement
You put me on blast for assuming you were white.
Your skin color spoke to me in ways that I grew resistant to.
Forgive me for denying you of your ethnicity,
of your beauty.
Don't ever stop calling me out when I fuck up like that.
I was in the middle of a sentence with you
That has been interrupted, forever.
And how is it that for the first time in a long time I felt safe with you
In ways I hadn't felt for so long?
How is it that you've managed to cast a spell on me that speaks of multiple lifetimes
unexplored dreams of skipping rocks with sea urchins at night
running across sands of trust and testimonies that caused me to fall in love with you
over a period of time that speaks in speeds that only light particles travel in?
Alice,
Did you know that I am the youngest of two
And that my parents are still married after 30 years?
Or that I am in a queer identified relationship?
Did you know that I was in an abusive relationship for two years,
Or that in college I was stalked by a professor who everyone loved
and that he almost raped me?
Alice, I have never felt so silenced as i did then.
Did you know that I have lived in San Diego off and on for twenty five years
Most recently to escape from him?
Alice, did you know that I write poetry sometimes?
And when I am depressed I like to write music too
Mostly in the shower but these days on the mic.
I like to make zines
I still send letters the snail mail kind of way
I find mixed cds ritualistic and sacred
In fact I was beginning to craft one for you,
I didn't have an exact theme but it involved a bit of Iron & Wine, Zap Mama and some Otis Redding.
And I eat at Lalos, Thai Time, and Dao Son on a regular basis.
I don't eat fish but I eat sushi with cream cheese and tofu, and on the day you died,
I ate white fish for the first time in my life.
I hate to wear hoodies with t-shirts underneath them,
I find them dramatically uncomfortable.
And after smoking a bowl (which we never got to together despite the many conversations)
I like to watch Carnivale, the L-Word, Twin Peaks and play Soul Caliber.
Alice, I want to know all about you now.
And by the way, in the last three years
I have lost my friend Joy De La Cruz
my half brother,
my grandmother,
And now
I have lost you.…
I was in the middle of a sentence with you
That has been interrupted, forever.
How is it that you have come and gone so quickly that
at times these days it seems your memory is beginning to fade?
I waited for you on Wednesday.
You said we'd have dinner, but you never came.
I thought you had stood me up.
But now,
Instead
I write you this letter
Have this conversation with you
Smoke the pack of cigarettes we were going to share,
I ride the Coaster at Mission Beach like we planned to,
Knowing that I was in the middle of a sentence with you
that has been interrupted, forever.
9:11 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment
More from my mom
I was thinking about an exchange I had with Alice from a couple of years ago, and was able to uncover the e-mail thread. She had said some nice things about my mom in the midst of our quarreling, and I wanted my mom to see them. In response, my mom wrote:
-----
Thank you for sharing Alice's letter with me. How clear and precise are her thoughts, what a masterpiece. Alice is and was very bright and articulate and rebellious, and I miss her for not being here to enjoy the beautiful sunny day, and to enjoy teaching her kids at school. These days are hard getting closer to the accident date. I still can not believe it happened and that she is not coming back, and that it has been so long since she was at the house.
May God help us all and bring us closer together.
I love you
mom
ps. see you soon
-----
The part "it has been so long since she was at the house" really got to me. I think that as time passes, yes, some of the intense pain of our loss subsides -- well, it moves somewhere in the background if it doesn't disappear.
Yet the yearning for Alice grows, and intensifies.
The time that has passed since Alice was at the house will only continue to grow, and it leaves me exposed to the chill of her absence.
-----
Thank you for sharing Alice's letter with me. How clear and precise are her thoughts, what a masterpiece. Alice is and was very bright and articulate and rebellious, and I miss her for not being here to enjoy the beautiful sunny day, and to enjoy teaching her kids at school. These days are hard getting closer to the accident date. I still can not believe it happened and that she is not coming back, and that it has been so long since she was at the house.
May God help us all and bring us closer together.
I love you
mom
ps. see you soon
-----
The part "it has been so long since she was at the house" really got to me. I think that as time passes, yes, some of the intense pain of our loss subsides -- well, it moves somewhere in the background if it doesn't disappear.
Yet the yearning for Alice grows, and intensifies.
The time that has passed since Alice was at the house will only continue to grow, and it leaves me exposed to the chill of her absence.
That damn Jeep | E-mail from Sook
Haig,
I've been thinking of you so often! I really hope you are well. I know that you take a while to respond so I thought I'd hit you up through the e-mail. No worries (I actually accidentally typed Norries...which is a much more efficient way of saying no worries and now I have used up even more space in being efficient!) in not responding. I'm just happy we're in touch.
I had a dream a few weeks ago. I was in the grocery store. I was in a huge industrial looking store...more grey and dim that Costco...which is normally brightly lit. I was in the frozen food area that was located in the middle of the store but was more horizontal. Meaning, the frozen items were not in upright refrigerator things like regular stores...you had to look down in these short freezer and reach down to get what you want. The details may be frivilous but I included them nonetheless. Well, I was looking through these huge bins and I look up and I see Alice coming around the corner with her huge cart (indistrial size carts you know). I was so happy to see her...I could really feel it...and I said (with a smile on my face), "Well hello there Miss Chahinian." As I said it, I told myself "This is not real...it's a dream...she's not here any more". It just felt so real to see her. Well, in true Alice fashion, she was preoccupied with how stupid someone was and hugged me while venting...as if we see each other everyday and it wasn't a big deal to meet up at the market. Nothing happened after that. I think we just walked with a carts while she was venting.
I read your mom's letter on the blog and it truly is mind bogging. I can relate as to how she said that she prays for her children's safety evey nite. My mom does the same. It just goes to show that many things are out of our hands and things are plucked away for reasons only God knows...whether we like it or not. I guess it also shows us that it doesn't matter what we want, we just have to learn what we can out of situations dealt to us...no matter how painful.
I continue to miss her so much. In July is our annual beach party and as I was getting my evite together, her e-mail address popped up as being part of the guest list. I thought back to that day last year and she was on her way but something happened with her radiator on the 405 fwy and she had to take her (damn) Jeep into the shop. She was trying to still make the party but I told her not to worry about it. I told her she should take it in before something bad happens to her on the road...she wanted to chance it by driving down. She decided to take it in and called a few times while she was waiting to get it towed. We had a lot of laughs while being on the phone and I appreciated her dedication. But no matter what I would say or what your mom prayed or what we all would wish...just 4 months later, the Jeep and the road took her from us. Our choices are so important in our lives...more than what we take for granted. It is above all divine intervention that can take us only so far. It's so sad...I hate it...but what can you do but love those here and now and never forget the ones that leave imprints on our souls.
Well, Haig, I didn't expect to get so emotional...forgive me. Just wanted to say hi, love you and the fam, and know that I'm thinking of ya!
Sook
I've been thinking of you so often! I really hope you are well. I know that you take a while to respond so I thought I'd hit you up through the e-mail. No worries (I actually accidentally typed Norries...which is a much more efficient way of saying no worries and now I have used up even more space in being efficient!) in not responding. I'm just happy we're in touch.
I had a dream a few weeks ago. I was in the grocery store. I was in a huge industrial looking store...more grey and dim that Costco...which is normally brightly lit. I was in the frozen food area that was located in the middle of the store but was more horizontal. Meaning, the frozen items were not in upright refrigerator things like regular stores...you had to look down in these short freezer and reach down to get what you want. The details may be frivilous but I included them nonetheless. Well, I was looking through these huge bins and I look up and I see Alice coming around the corner with her huge cart (indistrial size carts you know). I was so happy to see her...I could really feel it...and I said (with a smile on my face), "Well hello there Miss Chahinian." As I said it, I told myself "This is not real...it's a dream...she's not here any more". It just felt so real to see her. Well, in true Alice fashion, she was preoccupied with how stupid someone was and hugged me while venting...as if we see each other everyday and it wasn't a big deal to meet up at the market. Nothing happened after that. I think we just walked with a carts while she was venting.
I read your mom's letter on the blog and it truly is mind bogging. I can relate as to how she said that she prays for her children's safety evey nite. My mom does the same. It just goes to show that many things are out of our hands and things are plucked away for reasons only God knows...whether we like it or not. I guess it also shows us that it doesn't matter what we want, we just have to learn what we can out of situations dealt to us...no matter how painful.
I continue to miss her so much. In July is our annual beach party and as I was getting my evite together, her e-mail address popped up as being part of the guest list. I thought back to that day last year and she was on her way but something happened with her radiator on the 405 fwy and she had to take her (damn) Jeep into the shop. She was trying to still make the party but I told her not to worry about it. I told her she should take it in before something bad happens to her on the road...she wanted to chance it by driving down. She decided to take it in and called a few times while she was waiting to get it towed. We had a lot of laughs while being on the phone and I appreciated her dedication. But no matter what I would say or what your mom prayed or what we all would wish...just 4 months later, the Jeep and the road took her from us. Our choices are so important in our lives...more than what we take for granted. It is above all divine intervention that can take us only so far. It's so sad...I hate it...but what can you do but love those here and now and never forget the ones that leave imprints on our souls.
Well, Haig, I didn't expect to get so emotional...forgive me. Just wanted to say hi, love you and the fam, and know that I'm thinking of ya!
Sook
Alice passing by
On Friday afternoon, L and I were sitting at the kitchen table eating an early dinner, when all of a sudden she got excited and started waving through the window. We live on the 7th floor, so I thought it must be a maintenance person on the roof next door or maybe a neighbor shaking out a rug.
I got out of my seat and looked in the same direction. And there she was, a butterly fluttering by. L kept waving and quietly squealing while the winged creature flew the length of our apartment windows. It was all black, rather relaxed and totally beautiful.
After a few moments of taking in the experience, I started crying. L pointed to the tears on my cheeks and I acknowledged "Yes, Hairig (Daddy in Armenian) is thinking of Auntig Alice. The butterfly was bringing her to us, and he realizes how much he misses her."
And then we went back to our dinner, a little fuller.
I got out of my seat and looked in the same direction. And there she was, a butterly fluttering by. L kept waving and quietly squealing while the winged creature flew the length of our apartment windows. It was all black, rather relaxed and totally beautiful.
After a few moments of taking in the experience, I started crying. L pointed to the tears on my cheeks and I acknowledged "Yes, Hairig (Daddy in Armenian) is thinking of Auntig Alice. The butterfly was bringing her to us, and he realizes how much he misses her."
And then we went back to our dinner, a little fuller.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
It's been a year.
Last published on May 20, 2007, I know. I've been in a silent depression since.
Alice will have died one year ago this coming Wednesday, September 19th.
I'm writing at this point simply to say that Wednesday evening, my mom, my dad and I will be at Warehouse Pizza marking the one year anniversary of her death. We invite everybody to join us for pizza, salad and beer between 6pm and 9pm. If you're in the area, we hope you'll stop by, have some grub, and remember Alice with us.
Warehouse Pizza
2340 D Street, La Verne, CA 91750
(909)593-2714
Alice will have died one year ago this coming Wednesday, September 19th.
I'm writing at this point simply to say that Wednesday evening, my mom, my dad and I will be at Warehouse Pizza marking the one year anniversary of her death. We invite everybody to join us for pizza, salad and beer between 6pm and 9pm. If you're in the area, we hope you'll stop by, have some grub, and remember Alice with us.
Warehouse Pizza
2340 D Street, La Verne, CA 91750
(909)593-2714
Sunday, May 20, 2007
From my mom
My mom wrote to me on Friday, sharing her experience of Alice. I felt so helpless reading it, maybe like some readers feel when reading what I write. Here's her message:
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Hi Haig, How are you? how is L, and how is Peter. I called today but did not leave a message. How was L at school today? Still holding on to her red chair I hope. Wishing you all a happy and restful weekend.
I just came back from Rose Hills, took some flowers to Alice. Not in my wildest dream did I ever even imagine that I would go visit Alice's grave. How did that happen, I cannot understand it, when every night and every morning I prayed for my children's safety, success and prosperity and put all three children in God's hand and asked for His Mercy. I trusted in Him and felt assured that you were in Good hands and went about my business.
So what happened, I ask this question and do not get any answers. Tomorrow will be eight months since I saw Alice, alive and well and full of energy and goals and desires and hopes
of her finishing her comps well on October 20th, and thinking of her getting her Masters degree in December, her internship at San Diego City College and her already promised job of teaching in the Spring semester. So what happened. I do not get it. I know in my heart that I still should trust in God and ask for His help and comfort to go on each day with this pain in my heart. I miss Alice. Still do not know how this could have happened.
Tomorrow I am going to a meeting Stiches from the heart in Long Beach and Sunday is the Fashion Show and Tea of the Crochet Guild of Long Beach, I am going to that one too, it will be at the Marriott Hotel in Long Beach, by my favorite Long Beach Airport.
I am at the Library to check on the Martha Stewart show from yesterday, I hope it is on the internet. Then I have to go home and wash my face.
I love all of you
mom
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Hi Haig, How are you? how is L, and how is Peter. I called today but did not leave a message. How was L at school today? Still holding on to her red chair I hope. Wishing you all a happy and restful weekend.
I just came back from Rose Hills, took some flowers to Alice. Not in my wildest dream did I ever even imagine that I would go visit Alice's grave. How did that happen, I cannot understand it, when every night and every morning I prayed for my children's safety, success and prosperity and put all three children in God's hand and asked for His Mercy. I trusted in Him and felt assured that you were in Good hands and went about my business.
So what happened, I ask this question and do not get any answers. Tomorrow will be eight months since I saw Alice, alive and well and full of energy and goals and desires and hopes
of her finishing her comps well on October 20th, and thinking of her getting her Masters degree in December, her internship at San Diego City College and her already promised job of teaching in the Spring semester. So what happened. I do not get it. I know in my heart that I still should trust in God and ask for His help and comfort to go on each day with this pain in my heart. I miss Alice. Still do not know how this could have happened.
Tomorrow I am going to a meeting Stiches from the heart in Long Beach and Sunday is the Fashion Show and Tea of the Crochet Guild of Long Beach, I am going to that one too, it will be at the Marriott Hotel in Long Beach, by my favorite Long Beach Airport.
I am at the Library to check on the Martha Stewart show from yesterday, I hope it is on the internet. Then I have to go home and wash my face.
I love all of you
mom
Saturday, May 12, 2007
I'm missing Alice today. Wearing a short-sleeved cowboy shirt she gave me, and really missing her. I looked through e-mails we sent back and forth over the last couple of years; we were both really struggling to figure out how to be siblings and friends as adults.
When we were kids, my mother would just send us to our room, without really working anything out. I don't mean to blame my mom, she did her best and was proud that she could provide each of us our own room. Still, we never quite learned how to work through conflict.
When I offered this idea to Alice, all she did was kind of blame me for moving my "room" to New York and creating distance in the family. She knew my hot buttons.
That's the other thing. I located alot of my need to fight, and my aggression, in Alice. That's a sh`tty place to be, the frequent object of someone's hostility, and I'm sorry now for doing this to her. I think alot of us related to Alice in this way, though. And now, without her, I'm totally confounded. How do I deal with crappy tension that arises in me, with nowhere to go? Problem is, I think it's starting to come up in my relationship with Sophie.
I did feel angry with Alice, starting just last weekend, that she's f`cked up my life. Truly, her death has thrown my existence into utter chaos. My rage didn't last long, my sadness in the tragedy overtook it.
When we were kids, my mother would just send us to our room, without really working anything out. I don't mean to blame my mom, she did her best and was proud that she could provide each of us our own room. Still, we never quite learned how to work through conflict.
When I offered this idea to Alice, all she did was kind of blame me for moving my "room" to New York and creating distance in the family. She knew my hot buttons.
That's the other thing. I located alot of my need to fight, and my aggression, in Alice. That's a sh`tty place to be, the frequent object of someone's hostility, and I'm sorry now for doing this to her. I think alot of us related to Alice in this way, though. And now, without her, I'm totally confounded. How do I deal with crappy tension that arises in me, with nowhere to go? Problem is, I think it's starting to come up in my relationship with Sophie.
I did feel angry with Alice, starting just last weekend, that she's f`cked up my life. Truly, her death has thrown my existence into utter chaos. My rage didn't last long, my sadness in the tragedy overtook it.
Alice's Birthday, Part II
So that the top entry on this blog isn't only sad, I want to include a sweeter moment:
As Alice's birthday on March 26 was approaching, I wasn't sure what I would do with myself that day. How could I tolerate the fact that for every year of my life this was the day we celebrated Alice's birth, and now she wasn't with us?
Peter offered to take the day off so that we could do something that Alice would have liked. A part of me did want to celebrate that Alice was born, so after careful thought, I asked Peter to meet me at Toys R Us in Times Square at 11:00 a.m.
After asking a few clerks where the kites were, we found a small assortment of colorful kites. I was deciding between the 4-foot kite with bright blocks of colors for $5 or the similarly patterned 8-foot kite for $10, when I stumbled upon The One.
It was a Monarch Butterfly Kite 48". Actually it wasn't an obvious choice at first, because I was really happy with the good value the $5 kite represented. When I thought about it, however, of course we were going to buy this one, it was just like Alice's. The price wasn't listed anywhere, so, happy that Alice would approve of our selection we went to the checkout counter.
Quick ring through the scanner, and... $17.99. What?! I can't--wait, oh yes I can--believe that Alice would choose the most expensive kite. The word frivolous came to mind, yet so did playful, pretty, and perfect. So we bought our appropriately-for-Alice-priced kite and made our way to Central Park. Here's the packaging:
The lesson of the day was: it's hard to fly a kite in Manhattan. Were Peter and I the last ones to find this out? We went to all the open fields in the lower region of the park, and they were all closed off to protect the grass during the colder days.
Not to be easily defeated, we found a small, open dirt field full of activity: a school of 8-year olds in a game of kickball, a father and son kicking a soccer ball, a couple of dog walkers, and a steady stream of tourists all vying for space in the confined area. Never mind the ample trees and plenty of light posts bordering the space to make flying a kite extra challenging.
We opened the packaging, assembled the kite, and Peter held it while I lengthened the string for a proper launch.
[continued 9/10/2016]
Peter threw his arms up, casting the butterfly into the air, and I ran. But in the small field I didn't get far before hitting a tangle of trees. We tried again, but with buildings all around us, no wind blew for the kite to catch. Dejected, we went home.
The pain of not getting what I wanted felt familiar. But I needed Alice's kite to soar. On the train uptown I thought of other open spaces we'd try next time.
As Alice's birthday on March 26 was approaching, I wasn't sure what I would do with myself that day. How could I tolerate the fact that for every year of my life this was the day we celebrated Alice's birth, and now she wasn't with us?
Peter offered to take the day off so that we could do something that Alice would have liked. A part of me did want to celebrate that Alice was born, so after careful thought, I asked Peter to meet me at Toys R Us in Times Square at 11:00 a.m.
After asking a few clerks where the kites were, we found a small assortment of colorful kites. I was deciding between the 4-foot kite with bright blocks of colors for $5 or the similarly patterned 8-foot kite for $10, when I stumbled upon The One.
It was a Monarch Butterfly Kite 48". Actually it wasn't an obvious choice at first, because I was really happy with the good value the $5 kite represented. When I thought about it, however, of course we were going to buy this one, it was just like Alice's. The price wasn't listed anywhere, so, happy that Alice would approve of our selection we went to the checkout counter.
Quick ring through the scanner, and... $17.99. What?! I can't--wait, oh yes I can--believe that Alice would choose the most expensive kite. The word frivolous came to mind, yet so did playful, pretty, and perfect. So we bought our appropriately-for-Alice-priced kite and made our way to Central Park. Here's the packaging:
The lesson of the day was: it's hard to fly a kite in Manhattan. Were Peter and I the last ones to find this out? We went to all the open fields in the lower region of the park, and they were all closed off to protect the grass during the colder days.Not to be easily defeated, we found a small, open dirt field full of activity: a school of 8-year olds in a game of kickball, a father and son kicking a soccer ball, a couple of dog walkers, and a steady stream of tourists all vying for space in the confined area. Never mind the ample trees and plenty of light posts bordering the space to make flying a kite extra challenging.
We opened the packaging, assembled the kite, and Peter held it while I lengthened the string for a proper launch.
[continued 9/10/2016]
Peter threw his arms up, casting the butterfly into the air, and I ran. But in the small field I didn't get far before hitting a tangle of trees. We tried again, but with buildings all around us, no wind blew for the kite to catch. Dejected, we went home.
The pain of not getting what I wanted felt familiar. But I needed Alice's kite to soar. On the train uptown I thought of other open spaces we'd try next time.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
The problem with the past. And the present.
The 7 1/2 months since Alice's death have been the longest months of my life. It feels like I've been living in a fog of grief for as long as I can remember. At the same time, the 20 months of L's life have gone by so quickly. She's grown so tall, her babbling is increasingly varied, and she's already looking like a little school girl.
Thing is, 7 1/2 months of L's life overlap with Alice's death, yielding my unrelenting confusion.
To be with Alice is to be in the past. As I remember her, and think about her, I'm necessarily inside myself, mostly disconnected from my environment.
To be with L is to be in the present. I look at her, connect with her, talk to her, and react to whatever she's doing and feeling in the moment. Well, on a good day at least.
How can I be with Alice and L both at the same time? I can't anymore. So I'm plainly confounded. I have to take turns with each of them, and this takes its toll on L I'm sure.
Of course I should be more present with L, she needs me. Well, she needs Alice, too.
I need to be both of us for her now.
Thing is, 7 1/2 months of L's life overlap with Alice's death, yielding my unrelenting confusion.
To be with Alice is to be in the past. As I remember her, and think about her, I'm necessarily inside myself, mostly disconnected from my environment.
To be with L is to be in the present. I look at her, connect with her, talk to her, and react to whatever she's doing and feeling in the moment. Well, on a good day at least.
How can I be with Alice and L both at the same time? I can't anymore. So I'm plainly confounded. I have to take turns with each of them, and this takes its toll on L I'm sure.
Of course I should be more present with L, she needs me. Well, she needs Alice, too.
I need to be both of us for her now.
Correction, and a sports bra.
For a long time I thought that if I ran out of something to say about Alice, I could use the opportunity to post a correction from Paul A., the athletic training clinical supervisor at ULV, who wrote to Peter back in October after I had described him in error as one of the coaches at La Verne.
I panicked thinking if I didn't have anything to write, maybe I would be over Alice. Maybe she wouldn't be important in my life anymore.
Not possible. I chronicle my experience because while I have passing moments of lucidity (experiencing one right now) wherein I can articulate my thoughts and feelings, mostly I sit with a sensation of "what the hell has happened?" This blog has some answers.
The day will come when I will have said enough. I haven't reached that time, yet.
Paul's message of 10/3/06, verbatim:
-----
Thanks for posting my note. A little clarification - I am actually not one of the coaches, but one of the athletic trainers (sports medicine) for ULV as well as a faculty. I had the privledge of working with all of the athletes at the time Alice was at ULV. However, I don't remember her every really being hurt - she just liked to come in to the Athletic Training Room to keep her friends company who were getting their injuries treated.
However . . . there was the time when she left her workout gear in a friend's car, and could not find her. Rather than be late to practice, she quickly borrowed some shorts, shirt, and shoes from her teammates - but no one had an extra sports bra, and what Alice was wearing was, well, not exactly supportive. But in a burst of inspiration, she recruited one of the female athletic training students to go in the dressing room and wrap her with an Ace bandage. Mission accomplished with a lot of laughs, Alice made practice . . .
Also wanted to confirm that both the Women's and Men's Soccer teams held a moment of silence before our home contests this week in Alice's memory. She will not be forgotten.
Respectfully,
Paul A., Ph.D, ATC
-----
I panicked thinking if I didn't have anything to write, maybe I would be over Alice. Maybe she wouldn't be important in my life anymore.
Not possible. I chronicle my experience because while I have passing moments of lucidity (experiencing one right now) wherein I can articulate my thoughts and feelings, mostly I sit with a sensation of "what the hell has happened?" This blog has some answers.
The day will come when I will have said enough. I haven't reached that time, yet.
Paul's message of 10/3/06, verbatim:
-----
Thanks for posting my note. A little clarification - I am actually not one of the coaches, but one of the athletic trainers (sports medicine) for ULV as well as a faculty. I had the privledge of working with all of the athletes at the time Alice was at ULV. However, I don't remember her every really being hurt - she just liked to come in to the Athletic Training Room to keep her friends company who were getting their injuries treated.
However . . . there was the time when she left her workout gear in a friend's car, and could not find her. Rather than be late to practice, she quickly borrowed some shorts, shirt, and shoes from her teammates - but no one had an extra sports bra, and what Alice was wearing was, well, not exactly supportive. But in a burst of inspiration, she recruited one of the female athletic training students to go in the dressing room and wrap her with an Ace bandage. Mission accomplished with a lot of laughs, Alice made practice . . .
Also wanted to confirm that both the Women's and Men's Soccer teams held a moment of silence before our home contests this week in Alice's memory. She will not be forgotten.
Respectfully,
Paul A., Ph.D, ATC
-----
Alice's Birthday, Part I
I was in New York for Alice's birthday, Sophie went to CA to spend it with my mom. Following is part one of Alice's birthday celebration. Yes, we celebrated the day Alice was born on March 26th.
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Sorry it took me so long to write but here I am. I wanted to tell you that all intentions were to go to Alice's grave on her birthday with some Warehouse Pizza and chill with some beverages" (boy did she love that Trader Joe's beer). I was going to go alone. Then I told Vicky about it and she said she's go. Then I told Adi and she too said she'd go. Well then Bill called, Vicky picked up Bill and I drove to Warehouse to meet Adi. Bill, Vicky and myself arrived at the same time in the back of Warehouse parking lot. (Talk about good timing...which timing set the stage for the rest of the evening).
We walked in together to see Adi sitting with Lynn, her husband John (both ULV alumns) and their two girls. We haven't seen Lynn since Alice's funeral. Well, they were there entertaing friends, one of whom (Albert...haven't seen in in maybe 10 years or so), went with us to ULV and craved Warehouse (they flew down from Hawaii for some sports event). So they all decided to go there for dinner. As we were sitting there socializing, I couldn't help but be preoccupied with the fact that I wanted to still have Warehouse at Alice's gravesite and it was getting dark. Bill and Vicky went to go order the food and in comes Rich and his wife Kathy and their twins (Rich and Kathy ULV alums), and Beau and his wife Debbie and their child (they too ULV alumns). Well, we haven't seen Rich since the time we went to Warehouse after Alice's services that very evening. I can't even say how long it has been since we saw the rest!
Well, then you had called me and Adi was on her phone with Sophie and before we knew it, Alice had a giant birthday party! I still felt a little incomplete to not follow the original plan (I'm a total task completer). I also felt like we needed to be with your mom as well, so I was a little unsettled. But I think everything happened for a purpose. She had her family b-day and friend's b-day on the same day at the same time. What a thrilling day for her! Well we toasted loudly, "HAPPY F`CKING BIRTHDAY ALICE!" and had a great time with her in our hearts and recollections.
All these young ULV produced children (little Leos) if you will, running around. I could just see Alice playing with them and getting such a kick out of seeing friends that we ourselves haven't seen in a long time. It was great, Haig.
She continues to bless us with her spirit of fun and reunion and long lasting friendships. It still leaves me beaming today. Love you!!! Sook
-----
-----
Sorry it took me so long to write but here I am. I wanted to tell you that all intentions were to go to Alice's grave on her birthday with some Warehouse Pizza and chill with some beverages" (boy did she love that Trader Joe's beer). I was going to go alone. Then I told Vicky about it and she said she's go. Then I told Adi and she too said she'd go. Well then Bill called, Vicky picked up Bill and I drove to Warehouse to meet Adi. Bill, Vicky and myself arrived at the same time in the back of Warehouse parking lot. (Talk about good timing...which timing set the stage for the rest of the evening).
We walked in together to see Adi sitting with Lynn, her husband John (both ULV alumns) and their two girls. We haven't seen Lynn since Alice's funeral. Well, they were there entertaing friends, one of whom (Albert...haven't seen in in maybe 10 years or so), went with us to ULV and craved Warehouse (they flew down from Hawaii for some sports event). So they all decided to go there for dinner. As we were sitting there socializing, I couldn't help but be preoccupied with the fact that I wanted to still have Warehouse at Alice's gravesite and it was getting dark. Bill and Vicky went to go order the food and in comes Rich and his wife Kathy and their twins (Rich and Kathy ULV alums), and Beau and his wife Debbie and their child (they too ULV alumns). Well, we haven't seen Rich since the time we went to Warehouse after Alice's services that very evening. I can't even say how long it has been since we saw the rest!
Well, then you had called me and Adi was on her phone with Sophie and before we knew it, Alice had a giant birthday party! I still felt a little incomplete to not follow the original plan (I'm a total task completer). I also felt like we needed to be with your mom as well, so I was a little unsettled. But I think everything happened for a purpose. She had her family b-day and friend's b-day on the same day at the same time. What a thrilling day for her! Well we toasted loudly, "HAPPY F`CKING BIRTHDAY ALICE!" and had a great time with her in our hearts and recollections.
All these young ULV produced children (little Leos) if you will, running around. I could just see Alice playing with them and getting such a kick out of seeing friends that we ourselves haven't seen in a long time. It was great, Haig.
She continues to bless us with her spirit of fun and reunion and long lasting friendships. It still leaves me beaming today. Love you!!! Sook
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I'm back
I've been holding on to so much, and haven't written for so long, so I'm summonsing all I have to get my feelings and recollections down on silicon. It may not follow sequentially, I think I've lost that ability at this point.
Erin B. wrote after my last entry in April, and said she thinks of Alice every day on her way to work. While my recent silence must be disappointing, the collective energy dedicated to remembering Alice means alot to me. That others feel sad tells me that Alice affected many different people, and as such, continues to live on.
I felt lighter after reading what Erin had to say. It's nice not to feel alone in misery. There's truth in that saying.
Erin B. wrote after my last entry in April, and said she thinks of Alice every day on her way to work. While my recent silence must be disappointing, the collective energy dedicated to remembering Alice means alot to me. That others feel sad tells me that Alice affected many different people, and as such, continues to live on.
I felt lighter after reading what Erin had to say. It's nice not to feel alone in misery. There's truth in that saying.
Some Good Things
In my continued attempt to consider what kind of brother I was, I've been remembering some good things I did with Alice, and want to write them down. I'm sad to be left only with memories of my relationship with her, yet grateful for the limited time we had. Note that Peter had a hand in many of these actions, too.
*In 1998 when I got my first big tax refund check, I thought almost immediately to buy a ticket for Alice to come visit New York for my birthday. She did, and we had 8 fun days together. I'm OK to qualify them categorically as "fun" right now. It feels better than to recount some of the tension at the time, because I have enough pain to contend with.
*When I went to Armenia in 2003, I brought Alice back quite a few items I knew she'd like, like these two handmade purses, incense from Echmiadzin--the holiest city in Armenia. Is it OK to say I think I gave more to Alice than I did to Sophie?
*At the end of August 2006, before I left for work one day, our babysitter demonstrated something profound to me. She asked L, who was 11 months old, to show her where the books are. L pointed to the books. Then she asked her where the fan is, and L pointed to the fan. Then she asked "Where's Madonna?" And after a couple of beats, L pointed to the poster of Madonna. I was thrilled, indeed this was my daughter! During my coffee break at work, it was late enough in L.A. so I called Alice to share the news with her. She understood the significance, and later related the story to my mom, knowing that I had chosen to share the milestone with her first.
*Of course along with the poem I wrote for her 30th birthday, among the 30 presents we gave Alice was a silver link bracelet from Tiffany & Co. She wore it every single day, including the last day of her life. And I knew for certain she was dead when the coroner brought to us the belongings on her body at the time of her car wreck. Inside the plastic bag was the silver link bracelet. My heart hasn't mended since.
*In early August 2006, Peter, L and I made a swing trip to California. First to L.A. to see my family, then to Morro Bay to spend time with Peter's family on vacation. We were flying out of LAX, so we booked a hotel room near the airport the night before our flight back to make travel easier. Originally we planned to have a family "decompress" night, yet I couldn't bear the idea that L and Alice would be in the same town, apart. So I called her and asked if she wanted to come have pizza in our room and spend our last night in Cali together. She said yes, which included battling rush-hour traffic to get to Marina del Rey. We had a pretty great time, along with our friends Sue, John and their daughter Ali. Alice loved spending time with Ali, too, of course.
That night was the last time I saw Alice. I remember feeling unsettled again as she drove off in that damn Jeep; it felt so fast, tough, unstable.
There are more good things, I hope at least, that I want to record. This is it for now. There's a song that's been accompanying me as I think of Alice lately. It's by the Distillers, and despite its cacauphonous style it's quite melodic. A few times when I can't tolerate my existence, I blast this song and eat heavy, sweet things. It's a rare experience that I feel filled, temporarily. Here's the song:
*In 1998 when I got my first big tax refund check, I thought almost immediately to buy a ticket for Alice to come visit New York for my birthday. She did, and we had 8 fun days together. I'm OK to qualify them categorically as "fun" right now. It feels better than to recount some of the tension at the time, because I have enough pain to contend with.
*When I went to Armenia in 2003, I brought Alice back quite a few items I knew she'd like, like these two handmade purses, incense from Echmiadzin--the holiest city in Armenia. Is it OK to say I think I gave more to Alice than I did to Sophie?
*At the end of August 2006, before I left for work one day, our babysitter demonstrated something profound to me. She asked L, who was 11 months old, to show her where the books are. L pointed to the books. Then she asked her where the fan is, and L pointed to the fan. Then she asked "Where's Madonna?" And after a couple of beats, L pointed to the poster of Madonna. I was thrilled, indeed this was my daughter! During my coffee break at work, it was late enough in L.A. so I called Alice to share the news with her. She understood the significance, and later related the story to my mom, knowing that I had chosen to share the milestone with her first.
*Of course along with the poem I wrote for her 30th birthday, among the 30 presents we gave Alice was a silver link bracelet from Tiffany & Co. She wore it every single day, including the last day of her life. And I knew for certain she was dead when the coroner brought to us the belongings on her body at the time of her car wreck. Inside the plastic bag was the silver link bracelet. My heart hasn't mended since.
*In early August 2006, Peter, L and I made a swing trip to California. First to L.A. to see my family, then to Morro Bay to spend time with Peter's family on vacation. We were flying out of LAX, so we booked a hotel room near the airport the night before our flight back to make travel easier. Originally we planned to have a family "decompress" night, yet I couldn't bear the idea that L and Alice would be in the same town, apart. So I called her and asked if she wanted to come have pizza in our room and spend our last night in Cali together. She said yes, which included battling rush-hour traffic to get to Marina del Rey. We had a pretty great time, along with our friends Sue, John and their daughter Ali. Alice loved spending time with Ali, too, of course.
That night was the last time I saw Alice. I remember feeling unsettled again as she drove off in that damn Jeep; it felt so fast, tough, unstable.
There are more good things, I hope at least, that I want to record. This is it for now. There's a song that's been accompanying me as I think of Alice lately. It's by the Distillers, and despite its cacauphonous style it's quite melodic. A few times when I can't tolerate my existence, I blast this song and eat heavy, sweet things. It's a rare experience that I feel filled, temporarily. Here's the song:
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
I woke up today feeling okay. Like I had a little more energy than I've had in days.
Then a feeling of dread took over, as I realized this spurt was probably temporary.
I think I will always, always have bad feelings in my life now. Just sometimes they're at the forefront of my being, as they have been recently with the six month anniversary of Alice's death, her birthday on March 26 and Easter commemorations. Then sometimes they recede, although not disappear, as it seems to be the case this morning.
I'm getting used to knowing this, to being aware of it. This way I'm not blindsided when the doldrums hit.
There's alot I've been meaning to write here. I'm going to try and take advantage of this mild surge and get some more entries in.
Maybe. We'll see what comes next.
Then a feeling of dread took over, as I realized this spurt was probably temporary.
I think I will always, always have bad feelings in my life now. Just sometimes they're at the forefront of my being, as they have been recently with the six month anniversary of Alice's death, her birthday on March 26 and Easter commemorations. Then sometimes they recede, although not disappear, as it seems to be the case this morning.
I'm getting used to knowing this, to being aware of it. This way I'm not blindsided when the doldrums hit.
There's alot I've been meaning to write here. I'm going to try and take advantage of this mild surge and get some more entries in.
Maybe. We'll see what comes next.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Today is Alice's Birthday
She would have been 37.
I'm bewildered. I don't know how to commemorate this day that marks the birth of my sister Alice.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
The Story Through Photos
These days it happens less frequently.
While I'm in between thoughts, I'll get a glimpse of Alice, and feel some of her energy toward me. I see her calling me on the telephone, I hear her voice in my ear, I feel her reaching toward me and I then question, still, was I a good brother back?
Recently I came upon some pictures that suggest, at least, "sometimes."
Alice had sent L a t-shirt in a gift box my mom had prepared for Valentine's Day 2006. I was angry with Alice at the time, about what I don't know right now, and first thought "big deal, a t-shirt." With some time to think, it settled in that she had sent the gift with total love, and that I did appreciate her devotion to L.
Letting my ill-feelings subside temporarily, a few weeks later I put the cute top on L, and established a "photo studio" as we had called it during our visit the previous December. With the intent of just letting Alice know what L looked like wearing it, and hence expressing some gratitude, I snapped the following:
While I'm in between thoughts, I'll get a glimpse of Alice, and feel some of her energy toward me. I see her calling me on the telephone, I hear her voice in my ear, I feel her reaching toward me and I then question, still, was I a good brother back?
Recently I came upon some pictures that suggest, at least, "sometimes."
Alice had sent L a t-shirt in a gift box my mom had prepared for Valentine's Day 2006. I was angry with Alice at the time, about what I don't know right now, and first thought "big deal, a t-shirt." With some time to think, it settled in that she had sent the gift with total love, and that I did appreciate her devotion to L.
Letting my ill-feelings subside temporarily, a few weeks later I put the cute top on L, and established a "photo studio" as we had called it during our visit the previous December. With the intent of just letting Alice know what L looked like wearing it, and hence expressing some gratitude, I snapped the following:
Note that I took these pictures NOT with a digital camera, but with a traditional camera using film that would need to be processed. Considering this, that's a lot of photos I think. Which is worth something in evaluating my goodness as a brother, don't you think?
It's been six months now that I'm no longer able to demonstrate my appreciation for Alice and all that she gave. The longest six months of my life.
Looking at these snapshots, I feel a hint that I may also have given Alice what I could.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
On the Eve of Six Months
Sjoekje sent me a really heartening e-mail a couple of days ago, it made me feel good. Then she sent me the slide show she has on her myspace page! Here it is, followed by her e-mail to me. Right back at you, Sook.
Hey there Haig,
Alice has been deep in our minds lately. I think because this is her birthday month (although I'm not sure when it is/was). I was reading over your blog messages and I noticed that despite there being mention about the tumultuous relationship that you had with her, there sure are a lot of very fond and pleasurable memories. I hope that, as you read through them, you will see that the fond memories that you document, outweigh the mention of the difficult ones. We all had difficult times with her, but pales in comparission to the fun and outgrageous ones. That kept our love going for her.
The other day, Vicky and I went into Party City for the first time and we found some hula hoops in the isle. Well, we tried them and sucked miserably (how did we do this when we were kids???). I couldn't help but think of Alice and how you mentioned her hula hoop at the services. We went further down the isles and found three bins full of mini basketballs. Vicky said, "If Alice was here, she'd be going off." She proceeded to dribble about in true Alice fashion.
Yesterday, Chuck and I went for a nightly walk (since it's so Saudi Arabia hot over here) and found ourselves at the new park nearby our house. There was a little obstacle course and slide area and I did the whole thing...well improvised on the Monkey bars (I can't swing about like I used to). But nonetheless, I gave it my all.
You kow, Haig, Alice continues to be inspiring in ways that keeps us "Forever Young" in ourselves. She keeps the desire to be connected to our childlike impulses on going. For example, I've kept a tambourine in my car for the past three months and noticed the tambourine sound in the New Gwen Stefani/Akon song. I've been playing that thing whenever the song pops up. As a matter of fact, I bought the CD and had the song on repeat for a while just to play the tambourine.
As you become more connected with L in ways that Alice modeled for you, just know that we take her example and keep that "Alive". Vicky and I want to bring Warehouse to her gravesite and sit with her on her birthday (perhaps belated birthday by now). I just wanted to let you know that we continue to love her and live her each day.
PS, I'm getting a hula hoop.
Love,
Sook
Hey there Haig,
Alice has been deep in our minds lately. I think because this is her birthday month (although I'm not sure when it is/was). I was reading over your blog messages and I noticed that despite there being mention about the tumultuous relationship that you had with her, there sure are a lot of very fond and pleasurable memories. I hope that, as you read through them, you will see that the fond memories that you document, outweigh the mention of the difficult ones. We all had difficult times with her, but pales in comparission to the fun and outgrageous ones. That kept our love going for her.
The other day, Vicky and I went into Party City for the first time and we found some hula hoops in the isle. Well, we tried them and sucked miserably (how did we do this when we were kids???). I couldn't help but think of Alice and how you mentioned her hula hoop at the services. We went further down the isles and found three bins full of mini basketballs. Vicky said, "If Alice was here, she'd be going off." She proceeded to dribble about in true Alice fashion.
Yesterday, Chuck and I went for a nightly walk (since it's so Saudi Arabia hot over here) and found ourselves at the new park nearby our house. There was a little obstacle course and slide area and I did the whole thing...well improvised on the Monkey bars (I can't swing about like I used to). But nonetheless, I gave it my all.
You kow, Haig, Alice continues to be inspiring in ways that keeps us "Forever Young" in ourselves. She keeps the desire to be connected to our childlike impulses on going. For example, I've kept a tambourine in my car for the past three months and noticed the tambourine sound in the New Gwen Stefani/Akon song. I've been playing that thing whenever the song pops up. As a matter of fact, I bought the CD and had the song on repeat for a while just to play the tambourine.
As you become more connected with L in ways that Alice modeled for you, just know that we take her example and keep that "Alive". Vicky and I want to bring Warehouse to her gravesite and sit with her on her birthday (perhaps belated birthday by now). I just wanted to let you know that we continue to love her and live her each day.
PS, I'm getting a hula hoop.
Love,
Sook
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Breakfast at Tiffany's
I haven't blogged from work before, I thought the firewall prevented shenanigans like this.
On Tuesday, just like right now, I was thinking about Alice. I was watching crap on YouTube, and came across a clip from Breakfast at Tiffany's. This is one of Alice's favorite movies of all time; the DVD was in her computer when we went to her apartment in San Diego. I think she understood Holly Golightly, and yearned for someone to be her Fred.
I love this movie, too. So does Sophie, and so does my mom.
So I watched the last ten minutes of the film, and by the end was crying my eyes out, feeling Alice's loss. True, I was feeling her presence as well. I was at home with L, who was sitting on my lap. She looked at me, then at the computer screen, then back at me trying to make sense of my tears. Finally, she leaned into me and gave me a tight hug. I hugged her back, with my head on her shoulder, and rubbed her back.
I'm so lucky, it melted my heart, and I felt better. I explained to L why I was upset, and when I said Auntig Alice, she pointed to the photo of Alice holding her.
Like Alice, L understands alot about people, too. Here's the clip that tripped on the waterworks.
On Tuesday, just like right now, I was thinking about Alice. I was watching crap on YouTube, and came across a clip from Breakfast at Tiffany's. This is one of Alice's favorite movies of all time; the DVD was in her computer when we went to her apartment in San Diego. I think she understood Holly Golightly, and yearned for someone to be her Fred.
I love this movie, too. So does Sophie, and so does my mom.
So I watched the last ten minutes of the film, and by the end was crying my eyes out, feeling Alice's loss. True, I was feeling her presence as well. I was at home with L, who was sitting on my lap. She looked at me, then at the computer screen, then back at me trying to make sense of my tears. Finally, she leaned into me and gave me a tight hug. I hugged her back, with my head on her shoulder, and rubbed her back.
I'm so lucky, it melted my heart, and I felt better. I explained to L why I was upset, and when I said Auntig Alice, she pointed to the photo of Alice holding her.
Like Alice, L understands alot about people, too. Here's the clip that tripped on the waterworks.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Forever Young
It's a cliche I suppose. I heard this song by Alphaville over the weekend and immediately thought of Alice. It evokes Whitney High School for me, its origins are clearly 1980-something.
I'd like to think that on September 19, 2006, Alice had an experience that looks like the end of this video, and walked into light.
I think it's not impossible. From here on, Alice Chahinian will be forever young.
I'd like to think that on September 19, 2006, Alice had an experience that looks like the end of this video, and walked into light.
I think it's not impossible. From here on, Alice Chahinian will be forever young.
Why I'm a Zombie
It looks like I can manage. I talk to people, I get to work almost on time, I'm paying some bills. Sometimes I laugh.
Underneath this veneer, however, I exist unsettled.
Alice and I were interconnected, all of our lives. Even when we were cold, I felt an unmistakeable bond with her, and she with me I bet. True I was forever working to find my footing with Alice, seeking a kind of balance with her.
We were searching for a way to communicate that honored her insistence on living in and for the moment, while acknowledging my tendency to hold on to things past. We were getting there...
Now my life has been destabilized, and Alice isn't here to calibrate me. I'm left to figure out how to be, on my own. Which takes untold psychic energy, and I don't know when or if I will feel resolved.
Until then, I zombie about, furtively eating donuts for fleeting comfort.
It's kind of like sitting on a see-saw with nobody on the other end. For a long time.
Underneath this veneer, however, I exist unsettled.
Alice and I were interconnected, all of our lives. Even when we were cold, I felt an unmistakeable bond with her, and she with me I bet. True I was forever working to find my footing with Alice, seeking a kind of balance with her.
We were searching for a way to communicate that honored her insistence on living in and for the moment, while acknowledging my tendency to hold on to things past. We were getting there...
Now my life has been destabilized, and Alice isn't here to calibrate me. I'm left to figure out how to be, on my own. Which takes untold psychic energy, and I don't know when or if I will feel resolved.
Until then, I zombie about, furtively eating donuts for fleeting comfort.
It's kind of like sitting on a see-saw with nobody on the other end. For a long time.
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Because of Alice
We're in Florida right now visiting my sister-in-law, and L has had difficulty napping and sleeping. Tonight it was my turn to get her to bed. Yes, since it's our second night she's more familiar with the surroundings and thus more amenable to sleep; still it takes alot of energy to soothe her and remain patiently with her until she's dozing.
So after she had some (soy)milk, I put her in the portable crib and she whimpered. I started to hum to her, to the melody of the lullaby her music box plays at home. Then I put words to it, creating a story about Auntig Alice and how one day we'll all be together. It was a sad tune, and made me cry.
In that song I started to think how one of Alice's legacies is directly benefitting L, Alice would be happy to know.
Because of Alice, I'm a better father.
Alice would interact with L like nobody or nothing else in the world existed. I, on the other hand, had always been distracted, or focused only on getting the basics of parenting done -- like changing diapers or feeding.
Today, I channel Alice, if you will, and give L all of my attention most of the time when she needs it, like tonight. I didn't feel resentful for having to be there, or eager to get away from her. I've been on the playground where instead of calling (Alice) on my cell phone, I stay connected with L, pushing her on the swings and immersing myself in the experience.
I feel like I've talked about this before somehow. It warrants another mention.
-----
In other news, I thought of Alice again tonight because I ate a Fudgsicle for dessert. It took me directly to a summer in the early 1980s, sitting at home with Sophie and Alice, enjoying the creamy chocolatey badness of a Fudgsicle maybe while watching "Webster" on tv.
The dessert on a stick was smaller than I recall, it seemed to be half the size of what we ate. Not a profound loss.
So after she had some (soy)milk, I put her in the portable crib and she whimpered. I started to hum to her, to the melody of the lullaby her music box plays at home. Then I put words to it, creating a story about Auntig Alice and how one day we'll all be together. It was a sad tune, and made me cry.
In that song I started to think how one of Alice's legacies is directly benefitting L, Alice would be happy to know.
Because of Alice, I'm a better father.
Alice would interact with L like nobody or nothing else in the world existed. I, on the other hand, had always been distracted, or focused only on getting the basics of parenting done -- like changing diapers or feeding.
Today, I channel Alice, if you will, and give L all of my attention most of the time when she needs it, like tonight. I didn't feel resentful for having to be there, or eager to get away from her. I've been on the playground where instead of calling (Alice) on my cell phone, I stay connected with L, pushing her on the swings and immersing myself in the experience.
I feel like I've talked about this before somehow. It warrants another mention.
-----
In other news, I thought of Alice again tonight because I ate a Fudgsicle for dessert. It took me directly to a summer in the early 1980s, sitting at home with Sophie and Alice, enjoying the creamy chocolatey badness of a Fudgsicle maybe while watching "Webster" on tv.
The dessert on a stick was smaller than I recall, it seemed to be half the size of what we ate. Not a profound loss.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Caller ID
Sometime during the last several weeks, I thought I noticed an August date on our caller ID. Finally, today I had the wherewithall to scroll through all the numbers, and this is what I came upon:
-----
04:48pm 9/10 call # 15
562-208-1814
CHAHINIAN ALICE
-----
On September 10, 2006 Alice called us. I just wrote "me" and changed it to "us" because it's true she sometimes called for Peter, and lately, L. In her voice mail, she would say "I don't know if you're in the con-tree (said with a rolled 'r') or in the 'shitty'." She'd go from an Armenian accent to a hick accent in one sentence.
What I don't know is if I picked up. I don't know if we were home or not, if I returned her phone call, if I stewed for avoiding her. I'm having difficulties remembering right now, and it feels "shitty" for sure, so to speak. Part of writing this down right now is so I don't forget this detail. Distance is doing this to me.
I hate that I sometimes didn't pick up the phone when Alice called. I didn't know what mood she was in, or maybe I wasn't in any mood.
What I would do today for a phone call from Alice.
-----
04:48pm 9/10 call # 15
562-208-1814
CHAHINIAN ALICE
-----
On September 10, 2006 Alice called us. I just wrote "me" and changed it to "us" because it's true she sometimes called for Peter, and lately, L. In her voice mail, she would say "I don't know if you're in the con-tree (said with a rolled 'r') or in the 'shitty'." She'd go from an Armenian accent to a hick accent in one sentence.
What I don't know is if I picked up. I don't know if we were home or not, if I returned her phone call, if I stewed for avoiding her. I'm having difficulties remembering right now, and it feels "shitty" for sure, so to speak. Part of writing this down right now is so I don't forget this detail. Distance is doing this to me.
I hate that I sometimes didn't pick up the phone when Alice called. I didn't know what mood she was in, or maybe I wasn't in any mood.
What I would do today for a phone call from Alice.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
When L Met Belinda
I've been waiting to have the above photograph processed before posting here. I know it's been a while.
On the afternoon of Friday, February 2nd, Giuseppe called on my cell phone and said Belinda Carlisle was signing her new CD Voila at the Borders bookstore in the Time Warner Center. It's an album of French standards; Belinda has always felt she had a "chanteuse" in her. I do love all the songs, typical me.
At the time of the call, L and I were at the playground, on the swings and see-saw even though it was 30 degrees outside. I still can't believe we live in such conditions; Alice would have never tolerated them. So we ran to the apartment, I got a cup of water and cheese and crackers for L and we high-tailed it on the subway to the bookstore.
I was sweating -- panting, really -- from running. Once we got to the store, we stood in line for about 35 minutes, not easy with a 17 month old, then our turn was up and we finally met Belinda. She said L was really pretty and I told her how I had to wait 25 years to meet her but L only had to wait 17 months. Belinda was very charming, as was L, fortunately. We snapped the photo above and we were off.
OK, briefly, I have to include a photo of L having her photo taken with Santa Claus for the first time back in December:
Why is it that when L meets luminaries such as Belinda or Santa, she seems nonplussed?
Anyway, we walked through the maze of CDs and books to get back outside and hop on the train back home. As I entered the mall before the exit, I had to run to the nearest corner to put L down and sob. This was exactly the kind of moment when I would have called Alice and said "L just met Belinda Carlisle" and Alice would join in my giddiness. She would have understood the significance of me meeting Belinda, and the fun fortune of L sharing that.
Instead I called my sister Sophie, who didn't answer her phone. I wiped my tears, took L's hand, and together we walked out into the rain, homeward.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Reminders
This photo was lying on the desk, I think we were planning to enlarge it, and I realized it's one I haven't uploaded to the blog.In December 2005 we came to California to introduce L to the family. My Dad, Alice, Peter, L and I went to a Thai restaurant near my dad's home. Alice and my dad cooed over L throughout the meal.
L was the great savior to our relationship that visit. We all focused on her, and not on the bitternesses between us. She does that with my mom and dad and Sophie still.
The picture reminds me that Alice was a great gift in my life. And it's a reminder that the physical gift, Alice herself, is gone. That I am without her now.
My eyes are slowly opening enough to see another reminder--that many people I love are still living, and need me in their lives too.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Peter's Birthday
Peter turned 43 on Monday, and my mom, dad and Sophie all contacted him during the day to wish him a happy birthday.At 10pm after he and I had a cupcake each from Magnolia Bakery, I checked my cell phone voicemail. Sjoekje had called, and I couldn't quite understand what she was saying, so I put the phone on speaker.
When Peter heard the message, he said "is that Alice?"
As if Alice could call.
Hold on. When I, too, first heard the message, my heart dropped for a beat when she said "Haig." Incredibly, it sounded just like Alice. Her speech pattern, the tone of her voice, the rhythm of her words -- all evoked Alice. Within another moment, I realized of course it was Sjoekje.
Made me think that Alice called to wish Peter a happy birthday. I rarely check my voicemail via speaker phone, and when I do, nobody's around. It's like Peter was meant to overhear this message on his big day.
I e-mailed Sjoekje to tell her, and she said indeed she felt possessed by Alice when she was leaving the message, though not in a supernatural sense, in a spiritual sense. That in the past it's true they often sounded the same, and that Alice's voice was contagious.
The alternative is to accept that Alice won't be calling Peter on his birthday anymore. That when I say my family called him, that means he received 3 phone calls.
This scenario is just too hard to bear. I prefer to believe that Alice called this year along with the rest of the family.
The top photo is from Alice's flash drive that I just plugged in for the first time. Looks like it was taken with her telephone.
Even through a grainy image, her smile is luminous.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
Toms Place
The memory came first, then I thought to include the video. Seems like I'm on some YouTube kick, and like most things, I expect it'll pass.
In the summer of 1982 when I was 11, Alice was 12, and Sophie 13, our family went camping. Not motor-home, running water with cots camping, but tents and sleeping bags on the rocky floor camping. This time we hauled our gear to Toms Place, California which is considered part of Sierra Nevada. About a seven hour drive from Cerritos, it's pretty with lots of green trees and blue skies.
One day my parents let us kids go to the river by ourselves; I think the novelty of our independence is one reason why I remember this incident so vividly. We brought along Sophie's single-speaker boom box, and played a cassette recording of "Vacation" by the Go-Go's, which she had taped from KROQ.
We sat on big flat rocks, under both shade and sun, with the cold rushing waters right at our feet. It was a pleasant moment because none of us were fighting, we were grateful to be just the three of us this afternoon.
I thought my sisters were the coolest -- older, and interested in fashion, and they could smack me down with their words at any time. Actually, they were cool despite that last one. We related the words "back here at home there's nothing to do" to our experience camping, with nothing to do except sit and listen to a song about same.
I still don't totally get it. Will Alice never experience summer vacation again, or does she now know only summer vacation?
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Last Summer
By most weather reports, winter arrived late this year.
My experience feels different.
To press play above is to hear the song that makes me think about Alice again and again. Gwen Stefani sings "it looks like an early winter for us" and I think how winter really did start early for us, on September 19 to be exact. I know I'm taking the lyrics out of context.
It's poignant that Alice died on just about the last day of summer, given that she was a summer girl. She loved the sun and warm air and had a perpetually glowing tan. Her last summer was so full of hope, too. Hope for exciting things in San Diego as she neared completion of her master's degree in kineseology, hope for her niece as she was watching her grow, hope generally for good things ahead.
This winter has been going on for a very long time now, and the end isn't in sight.
At least the reminder is a pop song, which Alice enjoyed blasting on her stereo, too.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Alice. And Mel and Flo and Vera.
It may be true. As time passes, maybe only the good memories endure, and the recollections of more tumultuous times with Alice fade.
My friend Giuseppe is always playing something on the telephone, and this past week, in his typical wry fashion, he played the theme to the TV show Alice via YouTube. I got lost for a moment, transported to the summers when I was 9 and 10.
On weekday mornings, while my mom was occupied around the house and my dad was at work, Sophie, Alice and I would sit in front of our 19" black and white television and watch reruns while eating Shredded Wheat and Cocoa Pebbles mixed together. I Love Lucy was on at 9:00 a.m., and at 9:30 a.m. was Alice. My mom loved Vera, and we found Flo and Mel and the adult humor irresistable. This snippet is a sing-along version to the credits from the first season.
Once the program ended, it was time to run outside and find out who was around to ride bikes with, play hide and seek, or go to Pioneer Chicken for some salty and greasy treats. The possibilities in the summer air were endless.
This pleasant scene is all the happier because I know it wasn't something I appreciated by myself. Sophie and Alice shared their delight in the show with me, too. To the extent that maybe Alice has tracked down Vic Tayback in the sweet hereafter and has said hello? Huh.
My friend Giuseppe is always playing something on the telephone, and this past week, in his typical wry fashion, he played the theme to the TV show Alice via YouTube. I got lost for a moment, transported to the summers when I was 9 and 10.
On weekday mornings, while my mom was occupied around the house and my dad was at work, Sophie, Alice and I would sit in front of our 19" black and white television and watch reruns while eating Shredded Wheat and Cocoa Pebbles mixed together. I Love Lucy was on at 9:00 a.m., and at 9:30 a.m. was Alice. My mom loved Vera, and we found Flo and Mel and the adult humor irresistable. This snippet is a sing-along version to the credits from the first season.
Once the program ended, it was time to run outside and find out who was around to ride bikes with, play hide and seek, or go to Pioneer Chicken for some salty and greasy treats. The possibilities in the summer air were endless.
This pleasant scene is all the happier because I know it wasn't something I appreciated by myself. Sophie and Alice shared their delight in the show with me, too. To the extent that maybe Alice has tracked down Vic Tayback in the sweet hereafter and has said hello? Huh.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Guess what I found
It happened for the second time earlier today.
I was in the kitchen when Peter yelled "Guess what I found!" My first thought was oh, something I lost, that I've been seeking, something that will make me feel better to have again? And in the back of my head was, Alice. Like Peter might find Alice while rummaging through L's things.
I had a 0.5 second hope that my emptiness was going to be filled by what Peter found, and I was going to have relief. Maybe not finding Alice herself, but some message from her, reassuring me that I was a good brother, that she would always know that I loved her dearly even in her death.
So that I could rest a little bit.
This burden, my hell, is continuing to live through the suddenness of Alice's death with all the unresolved stuff, what I never said, what I took for granted with her, what I never quite did.
What Peter found was the squeegee L had chewed, and that we need to replace. Oh, that. The first time Peter asked me, he had found her crayons.
That something lost was located somehow gives me hope that other things I am seeking can also be found. Like less sorrow. And more real connectedness.
I was in the kitchen when Peter yelled "Guess what I found!" My first thought was oh, something I lost, that I've been seeking, something that will make me feel better to have again? And in the back of my head was, Alice. Like Peter might find Alice while rummaging through L's things.
I had a 0.5 second hope that my emptiness was going to be filled by what Peter found, and I was going to have relief. Maybe not finding Alice herself, but some message from her, reassuring me that I was a good brother, that she would always know that I loved her dearly even in her death.
So that I could rest a little bit.
This burden, my hell, is continuing to live through the suddenness of Alice's death with all the unresolved stuff, what I never said, what I took for granted with her, what I never quite did.
What Peter found was the squeegee L had chewed, and that we need to replace. Oh, that. The first time Peter asked me, he had found her crayons.
That something lost was located somehow gives me hope that other things I am seeking can also be found. Like less sorrow. And more real connectedness.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
What I was doing on September 19, 2006.
For a while I was trying to remember exactly where I was the moment Alice died. Was I thinking of her? Was she somehow involved with me? Did I feel anything specific from her?
Now I know.
From the publishing history of the website I've created for my business, I learned that I was online developing the site just as Alice was driving. There is a line that reads:
09/19/06 22:52 00:02 Completed Done!
What does this mean?
It means that at a time when my life looked mundane and uneventful, at its heart was pure and intense tragedy. Irrevocable agony was taking place 3,000 miles away, while I clicked and dragged through the minutes.
I think Alice would be proud of my work. I think it was the creativity I shared with her that helped me produce the site as it is today at www.ppd-usa.com.
At the same time, she likely would have felt competitive with me, as a sibling naturally would.
Now I know.
From the publishing history of the website I've created for my business, I learned that I was online developing the site just as Alice was driving. There is a line that reads:
09/19/06 22:52 00:02 Completed Done!
What does this mean?
It means that at a time when my life looked mundane and uneventful, at its heart was pure and intense tragedy. Irrevocable agony was taking place 3,000 miles away, while I clicked and dragged through the minutes.
I think Alice would be proud of my work. I think it was the creativity I shared with her that helped me produce the site as it is today at www.ppd-usa.com.
At the same time, she likely would have felt competitive with me, as a sibling naturally would.
Monday, January 01, 2007
More songs
Today on the radio for the second time I heard that song by Nelly Furtado "Say it Right," and somehow I imagine Alice really liking that song. I like it, yes, and I can see Alice turning it up when she heard it. It's really breezy and catchy.
It's from an album that came out in 2004, so it's not impossible that she knew it. I wonder.
Of course, whenever I hear Natasha Bedingfield sing "Unwritten" I think of Alice. That was the song Tiffany wrote out for Alice's funeral.
Ping pong was on a list of what's "in" for 2007. Alice was ahead of her time.
I got it.
I got it. I dreamed again of Alice last night, and got one of my wishes.
Alice was returning from a journey on a bus, and I was waiting for her. I knew that soon she would leave forever, and in the first of two similarities to Sjoekje's dream, she didn't really know this.
She appeared, wearing white -- the other element shared in Sjoekje's dream -- and I charged at her, I didn't want to miss her. I immediately hugged her close to me, tight, and told her how very much I loved her, always. My words were certain, she knew I meant what I was saying.
Next thing I know, I'm back at my mom's house, where many visitors had brought dogs -- a reference to our New Year's Eve guests -- but in this scene I didn't mind, because I was blissful, having just had a wish granted to see, hug, and affirm my undying love to Alice.
I am feeling a little bit lighter today, with 2007 here and the increasing distance from 2006. Ironic when I look at my waistline.
Alice was returning from a journey on a bus, and I was waiting for her. I knew that soon she would leave forever, and in the first of two similarities to Sjoekje's dream, she didn't really know this.
She appeared, wearing white -- the other element shared in Sjoekje's dream -- and I charged at her, I didn't want to miss her. I immediately hugged her close to me, tight, and told her how very much I loved her, always. My words were certain, she knew I meant what I was saying.
Next thing I know, I'm back at my mom's house, where many visitors had brought dogs -- a reference to our New Year's Eve guests -- but in this scene I didn't mind, because I was blissful, having just had a wish granted to see, hug, and affirm my undying love to Alice.
I am feeling a little bit lighter today, with 2007 here and the increasing distance from 2006. Ironic when I look at my waistline.
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