On Saturday night there were icicles hanging outside the bedroom window, illuminated by moonlight. I couldn't see the moon, though, it must have been shining from over the roof.
Those icicles were pristinely lit -- silvery, twisted jewels twinkling goodnight to us. The night outside was crisp -- well, because it was frozen. We're in the middle of winter and I'm not in Southern California anymore. So all of it except the frozen part made me think of Alice.
She has taught me how to take in nature's beauty when it's present. Because it's fleeting, like so many things in life.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Friday, February 01, 2008
February 1, 2008
It's becoming too long to have lived without Alice. I can't tolerate the increasing amount of time that has passed since the last time I was with her.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Two songs -- True now as they were then.
Alice and I were always breaking each other's hearts, throughout our entire lives. And now in her death, she has broken my heart once and for all.
I listened to this song, Always Breaking My Heart, over and over when I was in California in September for the one year anniversary of Alice's death. It's sung by Belinda Carlisle, one of my favorites. She makes heartbreak look glamorous, which it just isn't.
You can click on either of the arrows to play the songs.
Then I heard Carole King's song at MetFoods a couple of days ago, and it's stuck with me. Alice forever pleaded with me to move back to California, I was so far away from the family. She knew how to pull on my heartstrings, because the geographic distance between my birth family and me has been an issue for me, too. I get so sad when I think of her desire to be closer to me, and my insistence on staying so far away.You could bring up my relationship with Sophie and its difficulties, I know. It's true that I can be in the same room with some members of my family and feel thousands of miles away. I've reconciled the geographic distance by saying that we can work on the closeness of our relationships without moving. Still, it's hard. Obviously.
In the end, Alice remains away. Yet close. I can't keep from remembering her in every way I can.
Friday, January 11, 2008
And now it's 2008
Alice didn't live to see 2008. This is a difficult one, the year I turn 37 and surpass Alice's age. How could I have known that this potential existed in my life?
What makes starting 2008 somewhat easier is the notion that I'm starting to know Alice more as someone who's dead than who's alive. It's a function of the passing of time.
My mom said, incredulously, "Alice is moving to the backburner. I can't believe it."
She yearns to dream of Alice, to feel closer to her and experience her, even unconsciously. I want the same thing, myself.
So here's to dreaming of Alice in 2008.
What makes starting 2008 somewhat easier is the notion that I'm starting to know Alice more as someone who's dead than who's alive. It's a function of the passing of time.
My mom said, incredulously, "Alice is moving to the backburner. I can't believe it."
She yearns to dream of Alice, to feel closer to her and experience her, even unconsciously. I want the same thing, myself.
So here's to dreaming of Alice in 2008.
"I like the color of your car."
Even before Ryan wrote in the comments section of the previous post, sharing his memory of a surprise run-in and conversation with Alice, my mom was recently relating to Peter and me how Alice talked to people so very easily.
She recalled an afternoon when she and Alice were riding their bicycles in Cerritos, my mom naturally lagging behind.
At one point, Alice was way ahead, and stopped at the light for my mom to catch up. When my mom at last arrived, Alice was chatting with the passenger and driver of a car in the neighboring lane. My mom recounted that she seemed very comfortable engaging with these guys; she thought they were friends.
When they drove off, my mom asked if Alice knew them. She said she didn't. My mom wanted to know how it was that they started talking. Alice replied that she had commented "I like the color of your car."
How's that for an opening line? And who wouldn't respond to an attractive young woman on a bicycle complimenting his car? Alice's charm connected her to so many.
She recalled an afternoon when she and Alice were riding their bicycles in Cerritos, my mom naturally lagging behind.
At one point, Alice was way ahead, and stopped at the light for my mom to catch up. When my mom at last arrived, Alice was chatting with the passenger and driver of a car in the neighboring lane. My mom recounted that she seemed very comfortable engaging with these guys; she thought they were friends.
When they drove off, my mom asked if Alice knew them. She said she didn't. My mom wanted to know how it was that they started talking. Alice replied that she had commented "I like the color of your car."
How's that for an opening line? And who wouldn't respond to an attractive young woman on a bicycle complimenting his car? Alice's charm connected her to so many.
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
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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.
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