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.

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.

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.

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:
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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
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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
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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.

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:

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.

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.

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:

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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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.