August 11, 2002

"A Little Gift"

In odd, unexpected ways, I've been getting the sense Laura's watching out for us. There was the dream of Laura, and then there was finding more money in my wallet than I thought I'd had. It just seemed magical. It might not be, but still, I sense something. My intuition says we should simply lie low, and our financial troubles will soon work out. Logical mind isn't convinced, though I want to trust the heart.

It is the heart, after all, which gives us hope. Yet another little bit of magic occurred today. I've been going through pictures of Laura this weekend. I've combed old file folders and CD back up files, our friend Serena has sent a few, and I've been gathering quite a little library of Laura photos.

However, I wanted some in hard print to set on a shelf for remembering Laura. I picked some of what I felt were the best ones and took them to Walgreens, so their photo processor could do what it could.

The program recommended 'wallet size', because of picture degradation at larger sizes. We took a chance at 3 x 5 inches, though. The one of Laura and I in Tubac turned out okay. There was a small amount of pixillation, but not too horrible. The same for the lovely one of Laura as a vampire about to fly off bat-like turned out nice, as well.

But the close-up of a smiling Laura, being it had started out as a 33mm photo which was scanned on a cheap scanner, and processed in an ancient photo editor, was full of pixilation. Still, from a distance, we don't see the smeary little blocks.

Those look nice on our shelf, but, oh, they're small. Julia just happened to be looking for smallish picture frames, when she spied a couple of PROFESSIONAL photos of Laura! I cried upon seeing the lovely image, and wasted no time in scanning it, while Julia found a frame for it. The old frame has no support stand on it, so it's propped up against the wall.

Later, we'll replace the frame, but I'm just grateful to have the image. I'd forgotten that Laura had had it done at a Renaissance gathering several years ago. I'd scanned the one of me that was taken at the same time, as did Julia. But Laura didn't want hers scanned, for some reason. She was really quite shy about pictures.

full size facial view

I was so overjoyed to find this good picture of Laura, it's like she left another little gift for us.

Also, there is a version which encloses the full photo, but smaller. Eventually, I'll make a library of Laura pictures and reference them all.

August 12, 2002

"Some Tears"

Music to dance to, with a pulsing beat, played in the background yesterday, while I wrote the following:

If my voice could hold true, I'd sing your song forever. I am the vessel. In my heart, I carry your words, In my heart, I carry your heart. It can never be far from me. Say what they will of the long night,   I carry this light.

Say what I will of the long night, it does not speak to the sunny Monday afternoon.

It was as I was driving down the long curving road that leads away from my workplace that tears began to flow. I felt lonely in that hot car. I remembered Laura's happy smile as she'd wait for me to enter the car. How excited she would be to see me! We'd discuss events of the day, and then we'd follow with plans for the evening. If we weren't going to eat, or to meet with friends, we had Everquest plans. Laura would tell me the progress Sanomy had made in obtaining an item or cash for our dynamic duo, Kaaldar and Spelldoc. Always, there was such zest greeting me after the trials of the day.

And now, there was only the lonely hot car, with its impersonal radio voices. I burst into tears, ''I keep expecting you to come home from that bike ride!'' Great heaving, loud tears, I didn't care if passerbys saw me. If I couldn't have my Laura, at least I could have my tears. Some comfort, that.

August 13, 2002

"I Will Celebrate"

If I sit in quiet reflection, will words come? A radio speaker, who'd written a book on travel, said yesterday, 'Travel is the mother of thoughts', or words to that effect. But all my life is a journey. And the thoughts come, unnumbered. A few are caught and set in visable form.

Shall I, have any today? Tonight is the memorial for Laura. Readings and music have been assembled, our friends will assemble, to commemmorate Laura on this day that is also the anniversary of Julia's joining us. I am not desolate now, for Laura had this insight, to not shy away from the love we both had for Julia. We broke the mold, we would be free and be three together. And now I am not alone.

Grateful that, for love still surrounds me. We will carry on this work Laura first began. And so I, this morning, commemorate a joining began eight years ago.

Here are Laura's own words of that time, back in 1994:

However, it was February and there wasn't any promise that I would ever recover. One of my concerns was that Joan would be alone and I wouldn't be able to comfort her, let alone take care of her. I knew too that Julia was alone and needed someone to love. Hoping to prepare Joan for my death I told her that I thought Julia and she could make a wonderful life together. Joan had always been attracted to the mystery of having a transsexual lover and, outside of myself, Julia was the most suited to Joan's requirements. Julia appeared then, as she does now, to be the most feminine individual I had ever met. She is sweet natured, vulnerable, and genuinely compassionate. Her keen intellect and dry wit spontaneously produce the most wonderful puns, interspersed with more than a few terrible groaners. Her soft hands, softer than any I had ever held, her perky smile, and her gentle demeanor immediately endeared her to me. I felt as if ... as if I had known her in some past life. Which is a rather odd, although pleasant, sensation since I don't believe in reincarnation. With my obvious feelings for Julia, Joan's interest in her redoubled. With my encouragement she began writing to Julia more earnestly. Her letters were chatty and informative, friendly, and they prepared the way for a deepening of the relationship. The three of us were drawing closer together with each passing day. My time of trial was the test of our character and of our developing love for one another. To some the notion of preparing a new love to replace oneself after death might seem a little bizarre. For me, it celebrates life, expressing my desire for life to go on with as little anguish as possible. It does me no honor for anyone to wail and cry when I'm dead. I've dearly loved life. I have lived it with passion, milking every sweet drop of honey from it that I might. When I'm gone, I want those who love me, those I've loved, to continue with that same kind of passion. That will honor me far more than grief or mourning.

And so, we will try, dearest Laura, to live our lives with passion. And sometimes, dear Laura, part of our passion will be to 'wail and cry'. But we shall do with loud voices, unashamed of each tear. For we have loved, and yes, 'nothing can take that away'. But a strong love needs at times, strong tears. But we will rejoice, too, with tears, that we have known you, Laura. And today, we will celebrate. And every day of my life, I will celebrate, with tears, smiles and precious memories.

August 15, 2002

"Hard Morning"

The Memorial was lovely, I am making a nice page about it, but finishing it will wait a few days. It seems as though an anesthetic has wore off. I woke yesterday with a terrible sense of panic. It was a hard morning, as my moods circled between fear, depression and, yes, ANGER. I was shocked to find that in myself. Unguarded thoughts wafted to the surface, as my hands kept busy with their tasks. A fellow seamstress got a call from her husband, and I found myself angry, ''YOUR husband didn't die!'' Now, understand, I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I was just mad at fate.

Laura had begged me a time or two, ''I've heard that when people die, sometimes their loved ones won't get mad at them. You won't get mad at me, will you?''

No, Laura, I'm not mad at you. I know you couldn't help it. I know you didn't really want to go. You left, all full of eagerness to get back so we could have a fun Sunday afternoon. You didn't really want to go. I'm not mad at YOU.

Really, I'm not. I'm mad that death has to happen at all. Or that it has to happen when it does. Or something. Remembering a Buddhist technique helped yesterday. Just watch the emotion ebb and flow. Don't judge it. Watch with compassion, and let it ebb and flow. I have a feeling I may need more of that.

Meanwhile, a wet and smiling Julia has emerged from the shower. We'll manage, I know.