About two weeks after Alice died, I caught the last 20 minutes of Thelma and Louise on television. The ending brought a flood of tears because, well, Alice died in her car, too.
I mention this because yesterday morning I flew to CA for Alice's hokehankist (Armenian for "the resting of her soul" -- in the Armenian Apostolic tradition it's believed that it takes 40 days for the deceased's soul to rise to heaven) and the Grand Canyon featured prominently in my experience.
Usually I'm too occupied to notice beauty around me. Peter often points out the gorgeous light of the afternoon sun as it hits certain buildings, while I'm busy staring at the sidewalk. So on the flight yesterday I was immersed in When Will I Stop Hurting? Dealing with a Recent Death which Iris sent to me, when the captain announced that for the next 3-4 minutes we would be flying over the Grand Canyon to the right.
I thought "I've seen it before, I don't want to be bothered." Then, I thought of Alice. She appreciated the intense, and fleeting beauty of sunsets. Something so common that I overlook it, when its grandeur is truly rare. Alice could revel in the moment.
Friday, October 27, 2006
Dad's Heartbreak
My mom, my dad and I are going out to dinner tonight, an experience Alice would have loved. In her death, she brings her family together.
While the three of us were visiting at my mom's home yesterday, my dad recounted his experience of seeing Alice for the last time.
Before the funeral proceedings began in the Memorial Chapel at Rose Hills, dad asked if he could see Alice in her casket. The ushers obliged.
He said that she had a bruise on her face, from the impact of the car. He said that she was perfect.
While the three of us were visiting at my mom's home yesterday, my dad recounted his experience of seeing Alice for the last time.
Before the funeral proceedings began in the Memorial Chapel at Rose Hills, dad asked if he could see Alice in her casket. The ushers obliged.
He said that she had a bruise on her face, from the impact of the car. He said that she was perfect.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
My Alice
My mom called yesterday morning, her voice shaking. She had written a poem, and said "it just came to me, so I wrote it down." Here it is.
-----
My Alice
You are a bundle of energy
A bundle of love
You are my angel
Watching from above.
Emptying the dishwashwer
Or filling it up
Cleaning the oven
Wiping the countertop.
At a moment's notice
She would vacuum the house
At the next moment
She would cut the grass.
Always asking and almost begging
If she could only wash up the cars
Then quickly would add, if she could
Weed the garden and water the grass.
And now that you are gone
And left me behind
I will do all these things
And keep you in my heart and mind.
I love you Alice and miss you allways
Feeling you next to me on the swing
In the morning sunrays.
-----
This poem is totally Alice, in the rhyming, the structure of the verses, the imagery.
My mom remarked that she doesn't completely understand the significance of the change in pronoun, from second person to third person and back to second. She wondered if she should make it uniform, and I offered that if this is how the poem came to her, this is how she might keep it.
I added that it was clear that my mom was open, she was listening to the universe with her eyes, ears, and heart, and that these are ways that Alice lives through us.
-----
My Alice
You are a bundle of energy
A bundle of love
You are my angel
Watching from above.
Emptying the dishwashwer
Or filling it up
Cleaning the oven
Wiping the countertop.
At a moment's notice
She would vacuum the house
At the next moment
She would cut the grass.
Always asking and almost begging
If she could only wash up the cars
Then quickly would add, if she could
Weed the garden and water the grass.
And now that you are gone
And left me behind
I will do all these things
And keep you in my heart and mind.
I love you Alice and miss you allways
Feeling you next to me on the swing
In the morning sunrays.
-----
This poem is totally Alice, in the rhyming, the structure of the verses, the imagery.
My mom remarked that she doesn't completely understand the significance of the change in pronoun, from second person to third person and back to second. She wondered if she should make it uniform, and I offered that if this is how the poem came to her, this is how she might keep it.
I added that it was clear that my mom was open, she was listening to the universe with her eyes, ears, and heart, and that these are ways that Alice lives through us.
Midday Dream
I woke up at 8 am today, took a shower, brushed my teeth, ate Shredded Wheat with a sprinkle of Lucky Charms, moved some boxes around our new place, then went back to sleep at about 11 am.
In my slumber, I had a dream in which I was visiting my mom for the 40 day anniversary of Alice's death, and I was in my childhood bedroom getting dressed. While I was deciding what shirt to wear, a guy friend of Alice's came to pay his respects to my mom, and she was showing him Alice's bedroom. While they passed by my room, I looked outside and saw a young girl across the street wave to me, as if to embarrass me for being shirtless. I quickly decided to wear a rust colored sweater my mom had made, one I did not bring with me; rather, it had stayed in Cerritos for a few years.
As I was pulling the pullover over my head, I had a quick one-two thought: 1. As soon as I went to see who came over, Alice would give me grief for wearing this sweater. I dreaded that she would call me on putting on something so blatantly to please my mother, when I likely had no intention of wearing it, then 2. "wait! is Alice here?" and ran to my mom.
Of course, Alice wasn't there, and from my momentary excited hopefulness, came crashing down to the present reality. I unabashedly balled my eyes out at Alice's certain absence, felt guilty for dreading her reaction to my sweater, and willed that I could take back my guilt in exchange for having my sister back.
It was the kind of crying that is wholly for Alice. The kind of crying that takes all my might, tenses me in my core, and while I feel pure horror in these moments, I get a wisp of possibility that in some realm I may be connecting with Alice. Mostly, though, it just hurts to grieve and sob like that.
I feel it's necessary to do, if I'm going to keep living. Interestingly enough, when I cry like that, I don't feel like eating for a while. Like shedding tears nourishes me.
In my slumber, I had a dream in which I was visiting my mom for the 40 day anniversary of Alice's death, and I was in my childhood bedroom getting dressed. While I was deciding what shirt to wear, a guy friend of Alice's came to pay his respects to my mom, and she was showing him Alice's bedroom. While they passed by my room, I looked outside and saw a young girl across the street wave to me, as if to embarrass me for being shirtless. I quickly decided to wear a rust colored sweater my mom had made, one I did not bring with me; rather, it had stayed in Cerritos for a few years.
As I was pulling the pullover over my head, I had a quick one-two thought: 1. As soon as I went to see who came over, Alice would give me grief for wearing this sweater. I dreaded that she would call me on putting on something so blatantly to please my mother, when I likely had no intention of wearing it, then 2. "wait! is Alice here?" and ran to my mom.
Of course, Alice wasn't there, and from my momentary excited hopefulness, came crashing down to the present reality. I unabashedly balled my eyes out at Alice's certain absence, felt guilty for dreading her reaction to my sweater, and willed that I could take back my guilt in exchange for having my sister back.
It was the kind of crying that is wholly for Alice. The kind of crying that takes all my might, tenses me in my core, and while I feel pure horror in these moments, I get a wisp of possibility that in some realm I may be connecting with Alice. Mostly, though, it just hurts to grieve and sob like that.
I feel it's necessary to do, if I'm going to keep living. Interestingly enough, when I cry like that, I don't feel like eating for a while. Like shedding tears nourishes me.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Are you ready for Sossi?
I just found my ticket stub.
On August 13, 2002, Alice and I went to see Siouxsie & the Banshees at the Grove of Anaheim. Must I say it was gorgeous that day? Because it's raining and rather dark here in New York as I write this. We drove there in Alice's Jeep, and took a photo of the two of us in the parking lot, Thelma and Louise-style. Even though I haven't seen the picture in awhile, I can see it clearly in my mind's eye. The evening sun is hot orange, Alice is beaming in her sunglasses, and I'm squinting into the camera.
I must rely on my mind's eye for everything about Alice now. At least it portrays things in the present tense.
The opening act was a highlight, The Distillers, who were still growing on the music scene. Brody Dalle, as was her name back then, said a couple of times, "Are you ready for Sossi?" said "Soh-see" which is an Armenian girl's name. Alice and I got a big kick out of that, and from then on, referred to "Sossi and the Banshees." She called me a couple of times when "Kiss Them for Me" came on the radio, and I felt bonded with her talking about Sossi.
Brody Dalle was happy to concede the spotlight to Sossi, because, well, she was the headlining act after all. What resonates for me as I type this is that Alice and I really got into the Distillers' performance, as they kicked ass on stage, led by their frontwoman. You know, just like Brody, Alice was a badass. She took sh`t from nobody, including me. And I tried to give it to her, often.
Right now I guess I have to think of Alice as hard and tough, because if I'm internalizing her in her death, I need that toughness to get me through these wrenching waking moments.
Well, tough on one hand, and so very tender on the other, as you see in the photo above. I still have a few things to learn from Alice's tenderness.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
What Songs Make You Think of Alice?
I hadn't been able to listen to any music; it distracted me from my sadness, and I've felt compelled lately to stay with my grief rather than run away from it.
So it's with some relief that I finally opened iTunes and listened to Alanis Morissette earlier this week. On "Hands Clean" she asks "What part of our history is reinvented and under rug swept? What part of our memory is selective and tends to forget?" Alice had this CD among her collection in San Diego, so that's one connection, then the sentiment about revising history rings true for me, too. I don't want to airbrush or reinvent any of my past with Alice. I yearn to remember all of her -- the ups, downs, and all-arounds.
Alanis has a way of speaking the truth, even though sometimes it comes out a bit awkward, like when she lists a bunch of stuff, and it's a song. Alice sure had a way of speaking the truth, and she definitely knew what hot buttons of mine to press, and she pressed them with ease.
I listen to Alanis also because Alice (yes, the names sound alike, don't they) "borrowed" my Jagged Little Pill cassette back when it came out in 1995. I really like that album, and only in the last couple of years did I buy the CD version for myself. I remember listening to "Hand in my Pocket" with Alice going from the 605 South to the 7th Street exit in Long Beach. She would blast "All I Really Want" and the opening line "Do I stress you out?" resonated between me and her in my mind.
This entry is to be continued, I hope you'll feel free to join in.
So it's with some relief that I finally opened iTunes and listened to Alanis Morissette earlier this week. On "Hands Clean" she asks "What part of our history is reinvented and under rug swept? What part of our memory is selective and tends to forget?" Alice had this CD among her collection in San Diego, so that's one connection, then the sentiment about revising history rings true for me, too. I don't want to airbrush or reinvent any of my past with Alice. I yearn to remember all of her -- the ups, downs, and all-arounds.
Alanis has a way of speaking the truth, even though sometimes it comes out a bit awkward, like when she lists a bunch of stuff, and it's a song. Alice sure had a way of speaking the truth, and she definitely knew what hot buttons of mine to press, and she pressed them with ease.
I listen to Alanis also because Alice (yes, the names sound alike, don't they) "borrowed" my Jagged Little Pill cassette back when it came out in 1995. I really like that album, and only in the last couple of years did I buy the CD version for myself. I remember listening to "Hand in my Pocket" with Alice going from the 605 South to the 7th Street exit in Long Beach. She would blast "All I Really Want" and the opening line "Do I stress you out?" resonated between me and her in my mind.
This entry is to be continued, I hope you'll feel free to join in.
Alice's Kite
This isn't a photo of Alice's actual kite, but I think it's close. Sjoekje, is this it?
I've had the privilege to get to know or reacquainted with a good number of Alice's friends. The afternoon of Friday, September 22nd will stay in my heart as a very low, and very high point of my life. I was at Pavillions with Sophie and my mom, carrying Alice's mobile phone with me, when it rang. "Sook" appeared on the screen.
I answered it, and heard Sjoekje's vibrant voice on the other line. "Is Alice there?" she asked.
We had never met, even though Alice had talked about her often. I felt immediately close to her.
"This is Haig, Alice's brother. Who's this?" I asked, as I walked from the pumpkins and broccoli closer to the front door of the supermarket for better cell reception.
"It's Sjoekje, Alice's friend. Is she OK?"
"No, she's not. I'm very sad to tell you that on Tuesday night Alice was in San Diego, driving from the 8 Freeway East to the 5 South, when she hit the center divider and her car rolled, and she died."
Sook's exact response is cloudy; she said "Oh my god" as well as "No, I can't believe it." I know she said "f`ck" at one point, and it made me feel better, that indeed I was talking to one of Alice's friends.
It was an auspicious first meeting, and we had many conversations thereafter preparing for Alice's funeral. I know, I know -- the kite. She told me that she and Alice had bought butterfly kites together for $12 each, and they kept them in their respective car trunks for spontaneous kite flying. Alice loved flying her kite at the beach.
"You should get Alice's kite and fly it," Sook told me.
It was I'm sure in Alice's trunk on September 19th, yet one of the investigative sergeants didn't retrieve it for us when we asked her to provide us all the contents of Alice's car. The officer said she didn't go into "detail" in gathering Alice's belongings. Today I wonder what she meant by that, if she was protecting us from something we'll never know about the condition of the car after the wreck.
Flash forward to the funeral, a beautiful September day in the California southland. At Rose Hills Cemetary, we all blew bubbles into the gently blowing wind in Alice's honor -- it was a tranquil, playful tribute to her buoyancy, and how easily she moved with the rhythms of nature.
Sjoekje approached me at the tent and said, "Haig, I have the kite with me. Do you want to take it, or maybe fly it right now? There's enough of a breeze for it."
I hadn't flown a kite literally in about 20 years. Alice had that one on me, by a longshot. I asked Sjoekje to help me, and she constructed the kite while I took a few steps with the kite string for the launch. I went too far, though! Sookie suggested I get closer to her, so I reeled in the string.
She threw the butterfly up in the air, and I started to run. I let the string go, allowing the kite to reach higher into the sky. Up, up in went into the sunny limits.
I took a break, to take in the sight of the skyward butterfly. Within a second, it started to descend. No! I had to run more, to create enough tension to keep the kite airborne. I ran as fast, and as far as I could. Alice's friends and family watched the kite soar, as she herself had loved to do. I became this dark blue figure getting smaller and smaller on the horizon as Alice's butterfly took off.
Exhausted, I kept running for Alice's sake. She was so physically fit -- how could I, as her brother, be panting so soon? To be sure, I was running uphill. Within a few paces, I ran out of breath and stopped. The kite glided downward, while I wished it wouldn't hit ground. It did, and the sweet spontaneity of the moment faded.
The memory, and the rush of joy and despair I felt flying Alice's kite, still linger.
25 Days Later
And I'm still full of deep, intense sorrow. Yes, Alice would not want me to be this down, yet I can't help retreating from social situations and spending my time, well, sleeping as much as I can. What I'm doing in some ways is solidifying within myself the relationship I have with Alice, in a form that I can carry with me for the rest of my life. It's not easy to do. I'm remembering painful exchanges and joyful moments, sometimes blurring them together. A recently recurring happy flash:I was going to call this entry "'I Don't Give a F`ck'" but then I didn't want to be so bold. Bold isn't what I've been feeling lately.
Alice had come to New York for my birthday in the spring of 1999. One day I had jury duty, and had gotten out early so we could frolic downtown. We went into Century 21--the big clothing store, not the real estate agency--and headed to the women's footwear department.
Alice had been on a quest for shoes since she arrived. We were browsing through the aisles of boots and heels and flats, when we both overhear a conversation between two women. One says, "What do you think of the color of these shoes?" to which her companion replies, "I don't give a f`ck." As soon as we round the corner, maybe/not out of earshot, Alice repeats, in a perfect impersonation, "I don't give a f`ck" and we erupt in giddy, secret laughter. Such an odd response to a reasonable inquiry.
To this day we still reference that memory with the quotation, using the same intonation the woman did, and reinforce our bond with each other.
I realize I wrote "to this day" and that the tense of this anecdote changed mid-paragraph from past to present. I guess it's a way to deny, momentarily, that Alice is gone and to feel her presence again. I suppose I can let go of present-day descriptors and still keep Alice close. 25 days after her death, though, it's hard to do.
See the previous entry for a reference to the photo above.
Friday, October 06, 2006
My Eulogy
Alice's funeral was last Wednesday, September 27, 2006. After the priest started the ceremony with his prayers, it was about 11:35 a.m. when I spoke. It went something like this:
"It's hard to organize my thoughts in a time like this.
I've been looking for Alice ever since I got the news from my dad that she had been in a car wreck -- and I found her this morning, in the phone book. Not in the white pages, in the ads section in the middle of the book. I was thumbing through, and a little roller coaster caught my eye on the page, so I took a closer look. It said "You: lightly roasted in a sea salt and cocoa butter stress reduction. Anxiety, pain, leave them at home. Book your next vacation at sandiego.org" Alice didn't need to book her vacation in San Diego, because she lived there. My mom, dad, Sophie and I went to her apartment to clean it out, and we found her snowboard, her hula hoop, bubbles. It wasn't all play, she just knew how to balance her work and life. She had just moved four weeks ago to complete an internship at San Diego City College, teaching health and exercise science as part of her master's degree from Cal State Long Beach.
So this was the context in which I got a phone call from my dad last Wednesday morning at 2:45 a.m. He spoke to Peter -- well, when L was younger, Peter was better at waking up in the middle of the night, and I was better at sleeping. So Peter answered the phone, and very soon sounded serious, he repeated "Alice has been in a car accident." and I thought, "Oh no. OK, well, what do we have to do? Where is she? What kind of wounds does she have on her body? Should be go to the hospital and help her recover? How long will her recovery be? Soon, right?" Then Peter echoed "And she died." I didn't believe it. I got out of bed, and stood there, taking steps away from the phone. Peter asked if I would talk to my dad, so I took the phone, yet all I could tell him was "I don't have anything to say." I was in shock.
For those of you who don't know, I should tell you what happened. Alice was driving eastbound on the 8 Freeway in San Diego in her Jeep. She loved that Jeep, and how she was a woman driving a Jeep, typically a man's car. We don't know, yet we think she was coming from the beach. I think it's OK for us to fill in the blanks as we would like to here, so she was coming from the beach, because she loved the beach. She was feeling really good, dusk was approaching, and she had her stereo on really loud. She was going fast when she met the junction to the 5 Freeway south. She couldn't negotiate the curve, according to the investigator at the California Highway Patrol. Her car hit the center divider, and she tried to overcorrect by turning her steering wheel to the right, causing the vehicle to roll, two or three times. She died instantly.
The thing is, I've been working on my relationship with Alice for all of my life, really. Maybe most of us here today know that it wasn't easy to have a relationship with Alice. Alice was intense. She loved intensely, and she was angry, too. I'm angry, as well. We got alot of anger from growing up in our family.
Now it feels like I was in the middle of a sentence with Alice, that has been interrupted, forever. I will continue to work on my relationship with her, just now it will be different. I will work with my mom, and my dad, and my sister, and with her friends. I hope and pray that Alice can hear me talking with her as I move forward in my life."
The photo at the top is of Alice, of course with L, and my mom on the swing in my mom's backyard. They're looking so intently at L in the middle.
"It's hard to organize my thoughts in a time like this.
I've been looking for Alice ever since I got the news from my dad that she had been in a car wreck -- and I found her this morning, in the phone book. Not in the white pages, in the ads section in the middle of the book. I was thumbing through, and a little roller coaster caught my eye on the page, so I took a closer look. It said "You: lightly roasted in a sea salt and cocoa butter stress reduction. Anxiety, pain, leave them at home. Book your next vacation at sandiego.org" Alice didn't need to book her vacation in San Diego, because she lived there. My mom, dad, Sophie and I went to her apartment to clean it out, and we found her snowboard, her hula hoop, bubbles. It wasn't all play, she just knew how to balance her work and life. She had just moved four weeks ago to complete an internship at San Diego City College, teaching health and exercise science as part of her master's degree from Cal State Long Beach.
So this was the context in which I got a phone call from my dad last Wednesday morning at 2:45 a.m. He spoke to Peter -- well, when L was younger, Peter was better at waking up in the middle of the night, and I was better at sleeping. So Peter answered the phone, and very soon sounded serious, he repeated "Alice has been in a car accident." and I thought, "Oh no. OK, well, what do we have to do? Where is she? What kind of wounds does she have on her body? Should be go to the hospital and help her recover? How long will her recovery be? Soon, right?" Then Peter echoed "And she died." I didn't believe it. I got out of bed, and stood there, taking steps away from the phone. Peter asked if I would talk to my dad, so I took the phone, yet all I could tell him was "I don't have anything to say." I was in shock.
For those of you who don't know, I should tell you what happened. Alice was driving eastbound on the 8 Freeway in San Diego in her Jeep. She loved that Jeep, and how she was a woman driving a Jeep, typically a man's car. We don't know, yet we think she was coming from the beach. I think it's OK for us to fill in the blanks as we would like to here, so she was coming from the beach, because she loved the beach. She was feeling really good, dusk was approaching, and she had her stereo on really loud. She was going fast when she met the junction to the 5 Freeway south. She couldn't negotiate the curve, according to the investigator at the California Highway Patrol. Her car hit the center divider, and she tried to overcorrect by turning her steering wheel to the right, causing the vehicle to roll, two or three times. She died instantly.
The thing is, I've been working on my relationship with Alice for all of my life, really. Maybe most of us here today know that it wasn't easy to have a relationship with Alice. Alice was intense. She loved intensely, and she was angry, too. I'm angry, as well. We got alot of anger from growing up in our family.
Now it feels like I was in the middle of a sentence with Alice, that has been interrupted, forever. I will continue to work on my relationship with her, just now it will be different. I will work with my mom, and my dad, and my sister, and with her friends. I hope and pray that Alice can hear me talking with her as I move forward in my life."
The photo at the top is of Alice, of course with L, and my mom on the swing in my mom's backyard. They're looking so intently at L in the middle.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Some Armenian words, which I cannot repeat
Yvette, our neighbor throughout our childhood, surprised us at Alice's funeral with this memorial, which she read out loud, and which I paste here, unedited:
"A TRIBUTE TO ALICE
Lord our God, the death of Alice recalls our human condition and the brevity of our lives on earth. But for those who believe in Your love, death is not the end, nor does it destroy the bonds that You forge in our lives. Today as we mourn the sudden death of Alice, show us the immense power of Your goodness and strengthen our belief that she has entered into Your Presence.
Alice, is a French name that comes from the word Adelaide derivate of the German name Adalheids, which means noble and kind. That is the best way to describe Alice, noble and kind.
True to her zodiac Aries, Alice was a young ram full of adventure, ambition, enthusiasm and energy for life. She was a pioneer both in thought and action, very open to new ideas and a lover of freedom. She welcomed new challenges and would not be diverted from their purpose except by an occasional impatience. She was unwilling to obey or submit to directions for which she could see no reason, or with which she disagreed. She was concerned about good health, plenty of exercise and eating healthy. She was a courageous leader, with a genuine concern for those she commanded. She was proud of her heritage, so much so that she told every class she taught on the first day about the Armenian genocide. Alice was very creative. She loved to paint. She once showed me her painting space in the garage. The colorful stool she had finished. And the beautiful lamps she made to shed her light!
I remember that Alice loved animals, loved people and loved life.
I remember playing as kids. The days the Chahinians put up a basketball court, was the happiest day of my life! I probably used it more than they did. But, I got to see Alice follow her sister and throw the basketball underhanded lifting from between her knees.
I remember watching her grow up. I often remember sitting next to her on the porch. I remember her long hair when she was little. I remember her mom trying to comb out the knots. Alice hated it. Sometimes she would slip onto the front porch before Mary could catch her. I remember how she would get upset and pet the cat in silence and we’d feel the cold shoulder for a while. I remember Alice taught me some Armenian words, which I cannot repeat! I remember when we went to the movies and her mom packed apples. And she passed one to me but I couldn’t bite it because it was so hard to eat with my braces. So I smacked it against the edge of the armrest and broke off a piece and ate it. Alice and I were laughing hysterically, but Sophie and Haig weren’t too amused since they were concentrating on the movie. Eventually Haig joined in the laughter.
As an adult, I remember when I used to watch her jog and prepare for her soccer games. I remember how many times she’d open the front door and welcome me in to listen to my crazy life stories, whenever I was in Cerritos. And just a few weeks ago, I remember waving and smiling at Alice as she pulled up in her jeep – but I never imagined that was the final goodbye!
It is said when a child is buried that the parents feel their hopes and dreams will also be buried. Mary & Leon, do not let this sentiment take over. Remember Alice’s achievements and how she reached them with your love and support.
Sophie & Haig: your best friend, your sister is only missing from the physical world. There is no possible way to drive down Hart Street and not remember the laughter, the noise, the games and the boys! We laughed, we cried, we fought and we died. Alice when you left us you took a part of us with you. You will be eternally missed but never forgotten. REST IN PEACE, GOD BLESS YOU!"
"A TRIBUTE TO ALICE
Lord our God, the death of Alice recalls our human condition and the brevity of our lives on earth. But for those who believe in Your love, death is not the end, nor does it destroy the bonds that You forge in our lives. Today as we mourn the sudden death of Alice, show us the immense power of Your goodness and strengthen our belief that she has entered into Your Presence.
Alice, is a French name that comes from the word Adelaide derivate of the German name Adalheids, which means noble and kind. That is the best way to describe Alice, noble and kind.
True to her zodiac Aries, Alice was a young ram full of adventure, ambition, enthusiasm and energy for life. She was a pioneer both in thought and action, very open to new ideas and a lover of freedom. She welcomed new challenges and would not be diverted from their purpose except by an occasional impatience. She was unwilling to obey or submit to directions for which she could see no reason, or with which she disagreed. She was concerned about good health, plenty of exercise and eating healthy. She was a courageous leader, with a genuine concern for those she commanded. She was proud of her heritage, so much so that she told every class she taught on the first day about the Armenian genocide. Alice was very creative. She loved to paint. She once showed me her painting space in the garage. The colorful stool she had finished. And the beautiful lamps she made to shed her light!
I remember that Alice loved animals, loved people and loved life.
I remember playing as kids. The days the Chahinians put up a basketball court, was the happiest day of my life! I probably used it more than they did. But, I got to see Alice follow her sister and throw the basketball underhanded lifting from between her knees.
I remember watching her grow up. I often remember sitting next to her on the porch. I remember her long hair when she was little. I remember her mom trying to comb out the knots. Alice hated it. Sometimes she would slip onto the front porch before Mary could catch her. I remember how she would get upset and pet the cat in silence and we’d feel the cold shoulder for a while. I remember Alice taught me some Armenian words, which I cannot repeat! I remember when we went to the movies and her mom packed apples. And she passed one to me but I couldn’t bite it because it was so hard to eat with my braces. So I smacked it against the edge of the armrest and broke off a piece and ate it. Alice and I were laughing hysterically, but Sophie and Haig weren’t too amused since they were concentrating on the movie. Eventually Haig joined in the laughter.
As an adult, I remember when I used to watch her jog and prepare for her soccer games. I remember how many times she’d open the front door and welcome me in to listen to my crazy life stories, whenever I was in Cerritos. And just a few weeks ago, I remember waving and smiling at Alice as she pulled up in her jeep – but I never imagined that was the final goodbye!
It is said when a child is buried that the parents feel their hopes and dreams will also be buried. Mary & Leon, do not let this sentiment take over. Remember Alice’s achievements and how she reached them with your love and support.
Sophie & Haig: your best friend, your sister is only missing from the physical world. There is no possible way to drive down Hart Street and not remember the laughter, the noise, the games and the boys! We laughed, we cried, we fought and we died. Alice when you left us you took a part of us with you. You will be eternally missed but never forgotten. REST IN PEACE, GOD BLESS YOU!"
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The Power of IM
I cherish what Alice's friends have sent in about their life with her. Katarina wrote and shared some of her experience, and included what Pati read for Alice at the reception last Wednesday. Has it already been a week? Here goes, verbatim:
"One of the things we talked about during the reception was the way Alice's energy and spirit could be contagious. She affected me in a profound way that I did not realize at the time.
First of all, just a brief history. Pati and I became easy friends with Alice almost immediately upon entering college. While we did end up drifting apart, we kept up with how Alice was doing throughout our time at La Verne.
Pati and I thought of Alice frequently through the years and a little over a year ago, fate and circumstance brought her wholeheartedly back into our lives as we had a close mutual friend in Adi all these years and were until that time, unaware of the connection. I realize now that we reconnected so that her memory could live in us more fully.
My last conversation with Alice took place just over a month ago through the power of msn IM. I am not a frequent IMer, but Alice was a pro. The last thing I said to Alice, was "I love you, Alice." She replied, 'I love you too, Kat." What is profound about that is that while I do love my friends wholeheartedly, I do not usually say it. Alice made it so that one could say it unabashedly. I am so grateful for that.
Seeing you and Sophie made us feel closer to Alice that day and gave a glimpse into a part of her life we did not know so well.
I am including also what Pati read at the reception. It does not include the personal words she spoke, but is simply the quote she read. I sent it to several friends as a reminder for them to live their lives boldly and without reservation, as did my friend, Alice.
I appreciate the opportunity to share this with you.
-Katarina
Our biggest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light and not our darkness that frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel secure around you. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
-Marianne Williamson"
"One of the things we talked about during the reception was the way Alice's energy and spirit could be contagious. She affected me in a profound way that I did not realize at the time.
First of all, just a brief history. Pati and I became easy friends with Alice almost immediately upon entering college. While we did end up drifting apart, we kept up with how Alice was doing throughout our time at La Verne.
Pati and I thought of Alice frequently through the years and a little over a year ago, fate and circumstance brought her wholeheartedly back into our lives as we had a close mutual friend in Adi all these years and were until that time, unaware of the connection. I realize now that we reconnected so that her memory could live in us more fully.
My last conversation with Alice took place just over a month ago through the power of msn IM. I am not a frequent IMer, but Alice was a pro. The last thing I said to Alice, was "I love you, Alice." She replied, 'I love you too, Kat." What is profound about that is that while I do love my friends wholeheartedly, I do not usually say it. Alice made it so that one could say it unabashedly. I am so grateful for that.
Seeing you and Sophie made us feel closer to Alice that day and gave a glimpse into a part of her life we did not know so well.
I am including also what Pati read at the reception. It does not include the personal words she spoke, but is simply the quote she read. I sent it to several friends as a reminder for them to live their lives boldly and without reservation, as did my friend, Alice.
I appreciate the opportunity to share this with you.
-Katarina
Our biggest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light and not our darkness that frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel secure around you. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others.
-Marianne Williamson"
Preppy shorts... nice white socks and a pair of Vans
After all, Alice did go to high school in the 80s. Iris wrote this letter for her -- I'm smiling and crying at the same time, having just read it.
"My Best Friend, Dingey
There are not enough words in the dictionary to explain the friendship between Alice and I. We had a special kind of friendship that can never be replaced. I have my friends, but Alice was my best friend. She has been a part of my life ever since junior high school and we have been through just about everything together.
We were born just three short days apart, but we wouldn’t come to know that until 13 years later when we first met. I still remember how silly our meeting was. We attended Whitney, which was different than most high schools in the fact that you could spend your breaks inside the carpeted hallways of the building. I had a friend at the time who was kind of boy-crazy and would often run off and leave me standing in the halls by myself. One day, I thought to myself that I need to find a new friend. I’m not sure how or what directed me to Alice, but I was walking around the halls and then I came upon her sitting on the carpet in one of the hallways (as many of the students did), talking with a friend. I still remember the exact spot where we first met. I approached Alice and I think I just straight out asked her if I could sit and hang out with them. (I can’t imagine doing that now as an adult!) I remember that Alice and her friend were both very friendly and invited me to join them without hesitation. Alice and I hit it off right away and we hung out every break and lunch from then on. I still remember Alice back then – she had very long hair and she wore the front of it pulled back into a cute little ponytail that was gathered at the back of her head and draped down over the rest of her hair. She often wore those preppy shorts that were in style at the time and she would pair them up with nice white socks and a pair of Vans. As far as I can recall, we were both a little shyer back then, but we formed a close bond that I had yet to know would only grow over the years to come.
Fast forward a few years and Alice had grown into the most beautiful, spunky, fun-loving, high spirited, genuine, and caring person. Anyone who met Alice loved Alice. We soon learned to drive, and off to the beach we went! We spent our summer full of fun and laughs and friendship that I’ll never forget. It was as if we were attached at the hip, because I remember rising each morning knowing that I would see Alice. We would take turns driving to the beach, where we would chat and sunbathe for hours. A good day at the beach for us would always be followed by a Taco Bell bean burrito with a large iced tea. We would head home, but that didn’t mean it was the end of the day for us. Sometimes, we would meet up again at night just to see each other again and have a little more fun before the day ended. The next morning, it would be the same thing all over again. We would never tire of each other’s company.
Somewhere early along the road, Alice and I stopped referring to each other by our names and started calling each other by a nickname. Our nickname for each other was Dingey. It came from the many times where we would act so silly together. Our sometimes pea-brained behaviors led to a joke about calling each other dingy, but then we agreed that if we were so dingy, we wouldn’t know how to spell or say it correctly. So, we agreed that a truly dingy person would mistakenly call it dingey, which of course has an entirely different meaning, but made it even all the more funnier for us. I called her Dingey and she called me Dingey. I know that it’s a silly name, but Alice and I were silly, and the name to me brings tears and so many memories of my best friend. It’s hard to explain our connection in words, but I can only tell you that somehow being born three days apart made it seem like Alice and I were made out of the same mold. We had similar issues with growing up and we struggled with the same insecurities and so much more. We both had love for the same things in life and we seemed to feel the same way about everything. Alice and I would often be amazed at how similar we were. We shared many laughs and fun times, but we also shared our deeper feelings and thoughts with each other and I feel like we really knew each other through and through.
When Alice left for LaVerne, we kept in touch over the phone and we would still try to get together as often as possible. After we both finished college, there were new responsibilities to take on, but Alice and I were back to being best buds again like nothing had ever changed. I think we still liked to think of ourselves as still being young kids without a worry in the world. As time moved on, I started traveling for my career and was on the road each week. It has hard for us to keep in touch the way we used to, and eventually we lost touch entirely a few years ago. I knew that Alice and I would be in touch again, though, as I thought about her all the time and had been wanting to send her a letter recently to see how my Dingey friend was doing. I’m heartbroken to say that the call about the accident came before I ever got to write that letter.
Alice was so beautiful inside and out. Anybody who had the privilege of being a friend of Alice’s knew her golden heart. She was one of the most truly genuine and caring people that I’ve ever met. She was the kind of person that was always thinking about everyone else around her and would come to the aid of anyone in need. It truly made her happy to make others happy. Where can you find a heart like that?
And of course, I can’t fail to mention Alice’s creative, bright, and silly side. Alice was born with a talent to paint, to design, to create new and beautiful things and share them with everyone. Her art was bright and beautiful, just like her. I remember when she first started making those wonderful lanterns and I couldn’t believe how unique and bright and beautiful each lantern was. She showed me her little “studio” in her mom’s garage and she explained to me how she constructed them. I was amazed at her talent and when I showed my excitement at her creativity and her gift, she was very modest, but couldn’t help beaming one of those fantastic Alice smiles at me.
Alice and I have shared so many wonderful years and memories together. There are so many things to this day that remind me of her. She was so precious to me and I miss every single thing about her. I wish I could hear that heart-felt laugh or see her bright smile again. I wish I could see one of those funny facial expressions she would make or see her in one of her cute summer outfits that she wore so well. More than anything, I wish I could hear her call me Dingey just one more time. Friends come and go, but best friends are forever.
I am personally so lucky to have met her and become as close as we have. I love this girl like I have loved few others in my life. I love her as a sister. I always have and I always will. I miss you, my friend. You will be in my heart forever and I promise to hold your spirit with me until the day we are reunited. Until then, always remember, I love you my best Dingey friend…always and forever. "
"My Best Friend, Dingey
There are not enough words in the dictionary to explain the friendship between Alice and I. We had a special kind of friendship that can never be replaced. I have my friends, but Alice was my best friend. She has been a part of my life ever since junior high school and we have been through just about everything together.
We were born just three short days apart, but we wouldn’t come to know that until 13 years later when we first met. I still remember how silly our meeting was. We attended Whitney, which was different than most high schools in the fact that you could spend your breaks inside the carpeted hallways of the building. I had a friend at the time who was kind of boy-crazy and would often run off and leave me standing in the halls by myself. One day, I thought to myself that I need to find a new friend. I’m not sure how or what directed me to Alice, but I was walking around the halls and then I came upon her sitting on the carpet in one of the hallways (as many of the students did), talking with a friend. I still remember the exact spot where we first met. I approached Alice and I think I just straight out asked her if I could sit and hang out with them. (I can’t imagine doing that now as an adult!) I remember that Alice and her friend were both very friendly and invited me to join them without hesitation. Alice and I hit it off right away and we hung out every break and lunch from then on. I still remember Alice back then – she had very long hair and she wore the front of it pulled back into a cute little ponytail that was gathered at the back of her head and draped down over the rest of her hair. She often wore those preppy shorts that were in style at the time and she would pair them up with nice white socks and a pair of Vans. As far as I can recall, we were both a little shyer back then, but we formed a close bond that I had yet to know would only grow over the years to come.
Fast forward a few years and Alice had grown into the most beautiful, spunky, fun-loving, high spirited, genuine, and caring person. Anyone who met Alice loved Alice. We soon learned to drive, and off to the beach we went! We spent our summer full of fun and laughs and friendship that I’ll never forget. It was as if we were attached at the hip, because I remember rising each morning knowing that I would see Alice. We would take turns driving to the beach, where we would chat and sunbathe for hours. A good day at the beach for us would always be followed by a Taco Bell bean burrito with a large iced tea. We would head home, but that didn’t mean it was the end of the day for us. Sometimes, we would meet up again at night just to see each other again and have a little more fun before the day ended. The next morning, it would be the same thing all over again. We would never tire of each other’s company.
Somewhere early along the road, Alice and I stopped referring to each other by our names and started calling each other by a nickname. Our nickname for each other was Dingey. It came from the many times where we would act so silly together. Our sometimes pea-brained behaviors led to a joke about calling each other dingy, but then we agreed that if we were so dingy, we wouldn’t know how to spell or say it correctly. So, we agreed that a truly dingy person would mistakenly call it dingey, which of course has an entirely different meaning, but made it even all the more funnier for us. I called her Dingey and she called me Dingey. I know that it’s a silly name, but Alice and I were silly, and the name to me brings tears and so many memories of my best friend. It’s hard to explain our connection in words, but I can only tell you that somehow being born three days apart made it seem like Alice and I were made out of the same mold. We had similar issues with growing up and we struggled with the same insecurities and so much more. We both had love for the same things in life and we seemed to feel the same way about everything. Alice and I would often be amazed at how similar we were. We shared many laughs and fun times, but we also shared our deeper feelings and thoughts with each other and I feel like we really knew each other through and through.
When Alice left for LaVerne, we kept in touch over the phone and we would still try to get together as often as possible. After we both finished college, there were new responsibilities to take on, but Alice and I were back to being best buds again like nothing had ever changed. I think we still liked to think of ourselves as still being young kids without a worry in the world. As time moved on, I started traveling for my career and was on the road each week. It has hard for us to keep in touch the way we used to, and eventually we lost touch entirely a few years ago. I knew that Alice and I would be in touch again, though, as I thought about her all the time and had been wanting to send her a letter recently to see how my Dingey friend was doing. I’m heartbroken to say that the call about the accident came before I ever got to write that letter.
Alice was so beautiful inside and out. Anybody who had the privilege of being a friend of Alice’s knew her golden heart. She was one of the most truly genuine and caring people that I’ve ever met. She was the kind of person that was always thinking about everyone else around her and would come to the aid of anyone in need. It truly made her happy to make others happy. Where can you find a heart like that?
And of course, I can’t fail to mention Alice’s creative, bright, and silly side. Alice was born with a talent to paint, to design, to create new and beautiful things and share them with everyone. Her art was bright and beautiful, just like her. I remember when she first started making those wonderful lanterns and I couldn’t believe how unique and bright and beautiful each lantern was. She showed me her little “studio” in her mom’s garage and she explained to me how she constructed them. I was amazed at her talent and when I showed my excitement at her creativity and her gift, she was very modest, but couldn’t help beaming one of those fantastic Alice smiles at me.
Alice and I have shared so many wonderful years and memories together. There are so many things to this day that remind me of her. She was so precious to me and I miss every single thing about her. I wish I could hear that heart-felt laugh or see her bright smile again. I wish I could see one of those funny facial expressions she would make or see her in one of her cute summer outfits that she wore so well. More than anything, I wish I could hear her call me Dingey just one more time. Friends come and go, but best friends are forever.
I am personally so lucky to have met her and become as close as we have. I love this girl like I have loved few others in my life. I love her as a sister. I always have and I always will. I miss you, my friend. You will be in my heart forever and I promise to hold your spirit with me until the day we are reunited. Until then, always remember, I love you my best Dingey friend…always and forever. "
Comforting Words
A friend of mine, Harriet, sent me these two readings from the Yom Kippur memorial service she attended yesterday. They were comforting to me; they may comfort you, too.
We turn our thoughts to yesterday...to a world that lives only in our memory.
As we recall the days gone by, we know the past is irretrievable.
Yet --through the gift of memory, we recapture treasured moments and images.
We are thankful for the happiness we knew with those no longer here, with whom we lived and laughed and loved.
We praise the Eternal wellspring of life who links yesterday to tomorrow. We affirm that despite all the tragedy bound up with living, it is still good to be alive.
We understand that there can be no love without loss, no joy without sorrow. May we have the courage to accept the all of life -- the love and the loss - the joy and the sorry, as we remember them.
-by Evelyn Mehlman
ON HEALING
I had thought that your death
Was a waste and a destruction,
A pain of hardly to be endured.
I am only beginning to learn
That your life was a gift and a growing
And a loving left with me.
The desperation of death
Destroyed the existence of love,
But the fact of death
Cannot destroy what has been given.
I am learning to look at your life again
Instead of your death and your departing.
-by Marjorie Pizer
I've been thinking alot about the first one, the idea about love and loss necessarily going together. The idea has crossed my mind that it is better that L have no siblings so she never knows the pain I endure now that Alice is gone. I don't know.
We turn our thoughts to yesterday...to a world that lives only in our memory.
As we recall the days gone by, we know the past is irretrievable.
Yet --through the gift of memory, we recapture treasured moments and images.
We are thankful for the happiness we knew with those no longer here, with whom we lived and laughed and loved.
We praise the Eternal wellspring of life who links yesterday to tomorrow. We affirm that despite all the tragedy bound up with living, it is still good to be alive.
We understand that there can be no love without loss, no joy without sorrow. May we have the courage to accept the all of life -- the love and the loss - the joy and the sorry, as we remember them.
-by Evelyn Mehlman
ON HEALING
I had thought that your death
Was a waste and a destruction,
A pain of hardly to be endured.
I am only beginning to learn
That your life was a gift and a growing
And a loving left with me.
The desperation of death
Destroyed the existence of love,
But the fact of death
Cannot destroy what has been given.
I am learning to look at your life again
Instead of your death and your departing.
-by Marjorie Pizer
I've been thinking alot about the first one, the idea about love and loss necessarily going together. The idea has crossed my mind that it is better that L have no siblings so she never knows the pain I endure now that Alice is gone. I don't know.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Still Listless
Today I woke up, ate breakfast, and then sat down and stared into nothingness. I'm feeling shock again, similar to when I first heard the news from my dad. It's a numb feeling that's accompanied strangely by no specific thoughts. Like, I ache for Alice to be back in my life just as she was, and I see her vivacious smile in my mind, yet there are no other concrete thoughts about her in my head.
After 2 hours of being up, I took a nap for the rest of the day, until it was time to get ready to go to my cousin's place for dinner. It was nice of him to make chicken and rice and other fixings, because I'm not feeling like cooking. And I have always enjoyed cooking.
After 2 hours of being up, I took a nap for the rest of the day, until it was time to get ready to go to my cousin's place for dinner. It was nice of him to make chicken and rice and other fixings, because I'm not feeling like cooking. And I have always enjoyed cooking.
The News Stories
These three stories were printed the day after Alice's death. They break my heart, and they're still hard to read.
From http://www.nctimes.com/articles/2006/09/21/news/sandiego/16_05_139_20_06.txt
Intern killed in freeway crash
By: North County Times wire services -
SAN DIEGO - Authorities today released the name of a 36-year-old Long Beach woman who died when her Jeep Wrangler crashed after veering off a freeway connector in Old Town.
Alice Chahinian was pronounced dead at 7:34 last night, according to the San Diego County Medical Examiner's Office.
Chahinian was driving from eastbound Interstate 8 to southbound I-5 when the Jeep traveled off the connector and rolled over, said Medical Examiner's Investigator James Buckley.
She was the sole occupant in the vehicle, Buckley said, adding that it did not appear that she had been wearing a seat belt.
Chahinian was in San Diego working on a teaching internship through Cal State Long Beach, according to Buckley.
The California Highway Patrol was investigating the cause of the crash.
----------
From http://www.10news.com/newsarchive/9893449/detail.html
10News.com
Freeway Accident Kills 1 In Midway Area
Driver Dies; No Reported Injuries
POSTED: 8:22 am PDT September 20, 2006, UPDATED: 9:53 am PDT September 20, 2006
SAN DIEGO -- A deadly freeway accident happened in the Midway area Tuesday night at about 7:15 p.m. on the eastbound Interstate 8 onramp to southbound Interstate 5.
Authorities report Alice Chahinian, 36, was apparently trying to get onto Interstate 5, when her Jeep hit the center divide and rolled over.
Chahinian died at the scene, officials said.
No other cars were involved, and no one else reported injuries.
----------
Long Beach woman killed in accident [C Edition]
The San Diego Union - Tribune - San Diego, Calif.
By: Pauline Repard | September 20, 2006
MIDWAY DISTRICT -- A Long Beach woman died last night when her Jeep overturned on the ramp from eastbound Interstate 8 to southbound Interstate 5, authorities said.
The woman's name was not released. She was 36, a California Highway Patrol official said.
The cause of the accident was under investigation.
CHP officials said the Jeep driver swerved off the ramp to the left about 7:15 p.m., then overcorrected to the right and flipped the vehicle on its left side. It came to rest where the ramps from eastbound and westbound I-8 converge to southbound I-5.
The driver was pinned to the ground by the Jeep's rollbar. She was declared dead at the scene, the CHP said. The ramps were closed for nearly three hours.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner.
From http://www.nctimes.com/articles/2006/09/21/news/sandiego/16_05_139_20_06.txt
Intern killed in freeway crash
By: North County Times wire services -
SAN DIEGO - Authorities today released the name of a 36-year-old Long Beach woman who died when her Jeep Wrangler crashed after veering off a freeway connector in Old Town.
Alice Chahinian was pronounced dead at 7:34 last night, according to the San Diego County Medical Examiner's Office.
Chahinian was driving from eastbound Interstate 8 to southbound I-5 when the Jeep traveled off the connector and rolled over, said Medical Examiner's Investigator James Buckley.
She was the sole occupant in the vehicle, Buckley said, adding that it did not appear that she had been wearing a seat belt.
Chahinian was in San Diego working on a teaching internship through Cal State Long Beach, according to Buckley.
The California Highway Patrol was investigating the cause of the crash.
----------
From http://www.10news.com/newsarchive/9893449/detail.html
10News.com
Freeway Accident Kills 1 In Midway Area
Driver Dies; No Reported Injuries
POSTED: 8:22 am PDT September 20, 2006, UPDATED: 9:53 am PDT September 20, 2006
SAN DIEGO -- A deadly freeway accident happened in the Midway area Tuesday night at about 7:15 p.m. on the eastbound Interstate 8 onramp to southbound Interstate 5.
Authorities report Alice Chahinian, 36, was apparently trying to get onto Interstate 5, when her Jeep hit the center divide and rolled over.
Chahinian died at the scene, officials said.
No other cars were involved, and no one else reported injuries.
----------
Long Beach woman killed in accident [C Edition]
The San Diego Union - Tribune - San Diego, Calif.
By: Pauline Repard | September 20, 2006
MIDWAY DISTRICT -- A Long Beach woman died last night when her Jeep overturned on the ramp from eastbound Interstate 8 to southbound Interstate 5, authorities said.
The woman's name was not released. She was 36, a California Highway Patrol official said.
The cause of the accident was under investigation.
CHP officials said the Jeep driver swerved off the ramp to the left about 7:15 p.m., then overcorrected to the right and flipped the vehicle on its left side. It came to rest where the ramps from eastbound and westbound I-8 converge to southbound I-5.
The driver was pinned to the ground by the Jeep's rollbar. She was declared dead at the scene, the CHP said. The ramps were closed for nearly three hours.
Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner.
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