AUTHOR: Robert TITLE: Kerie says hi! DATE: 2/11/2004 11:18:00 AM ----- BODY: Good morning, everyone. Well, I hope its a good morning for you, for me its been a “rek” of a day, and its only 7:33 am. Yar. More on my rude morning later, but for now, I have a bit of a story to tell that was very intense to live through -- in the end it all turned out to be comforting and spiritually reassuring to me -- but was very very creepy and shocking at the time. I‘m a little reticent to start putting this all down in bits, but I guess its just time I did. I know that I‘m going to cry a bit while writing it all, and you may cry a bit when you read it -- hopefully not because its bad or just too darn long. So, where do you start? There has been one major event in my life that has singularly changed me more than anything before or since -- when my friend and soulmate Kerie was killed very suddenly in a horseback riding accident six years ago yesterday, February 10, 1998. Wow, that was a really long time ago. Yesterday, I heard her favorite song on the radio. “The Promise” by When In Rome. That in itself is not really a big deal ... not really. Kerie loved music. She and I grew up in the seventies and were young teenagers together in the early 80‘s. Those were great days in music. We fell in love with each other while listening to some fantastic songs that held -- we thought at the time -- the very secrets of the universe in their lyrics. Kerie and I had a real love that we later understood was not going to turn out to be what either of us expected, but something more and deeper. If you?re lucky you maybe -- MAYBE get one friend like that in your life. Somebody who just “gets you” at a cellular level, hook, line and sinker. Kerie and I were misfits in our high school together -- we punked our hair, smoked cigarettes, tried some substances here and there but never really got into all that -- we were each other‘s drugs really. We laughed a lot. That woman could make me laugh and laugh and laugh. We fought with each other like only two Virgos who love and respect each other very much can do. Mrowr! We had so many private jokes between us most people couldn‘t figure out what the hell we were laughing at half the time, but you could tell just by watching us together that we were just meant to be attached at the hip. She was six feet tall and all girl power. She was a tough cookie too. She played Volleyball in junior high and high school and one time I saw her bitch-slap a cheerleader so hard the girl‘s bra popped. Kerie had a very distinct makeup print on her hand that made us laugh so hard we cried. The first time I met Kerie was on the Denton High School band field for early band practice -- I had just returned from a great trip to California where I had (without my parent‘s permission) dyed my hair pink and blue and cut it all punk. This action on my part did NOT go over well with the administration at my high school. Just like the characters in “The Breakfast Club” which would later become my personal manifesto, I resisted the administration‘s right to tell me how to do my hair. This rebellion of mine caused Kerie -- who had just moved to Denton from Arizona -- to walk right up to me and say “Hi, I‘m Kerie. You and I are gonna get along JUST fine.” And that, as they say, was that. From literally that moment forward, we began a great friendship that lasted until -- well until 'then'. It lasts in my heart and mind to this day, but as we all know, that's just not quite the same. Kerie and I had our difficult times. We went through a lot in our lives. We watched each other succeed and fail -- and more times than I'd care to admit, we watched each other make complete assholes of ourselves in one way or another. There was a period of almost two excruciating years where she and I didn't speak to each other -- neither of us could remember why in the end, so we gave it up. We were both stubborn as could be, but that time she was the first to give up the ghost. Not having spoken for almost two years, I was awakened at two a.m. with a banging at my back door. It was raining hard outside and I was really nervous to even go to the door, but I did -- and I saw Kerie totally soaked, freaked-out and crying at the back door. Both of us eased into talking as if we‘d just seen each other earlier that day -- I think I started the conversation by saying “Oh, sweetheart, what happened?” Two hours, a pack of smokes, two hot teas and a can of chicken soup later I had heard the whole story, how she had gotten involved with a guy who seemed really cool at the time but who ended up spending all of her money and asking her to rent an apartment in her name so they could both live there. After about a year he was letting so many friends live there with them that she didn't even know who's stuff was who's anymore. There was never any question about it, she wasn't asking to move in with me, I wasn't even feeling like it needed to be said. You know what they say "Got drug addicts for roommates? Don't get mad, get GLAD!" We got in her car, stopped by a Walgreen's to pick up some trash bags and went into "The Dirtiest Apartment In North America." No kidding, The cat boxes were cesspools of festering hairballs, cat piss and cat shit. the power had been turned off some weeks ago, but nobody had bothered to clean out the fridge. There was an entire burgeoning colony of cockroaches making a happy home in what was whimsically referred to as "The Kitchen." There were about 20 people lying about the living room covered in cat hair in various states of undress and intoxication from one substance or another. We literally had to step over unconscious people who had needles still stuck in their arms in order to get to her 'room'. That's where I saw the very definition of Kerie. In the middle of all this shit -- these dirty clothes and heroin addicts and losers and freaks and cockroaches and dishes that hadn't been washed in weeks -- way off in a corner was a neatly made twin bed with a frilly Barbie-pink bedspread and a fisherman's net hanging over the bed with about 35 rather perturbed stuffed animals in it. It looked vaguely like a room that Buffy from “Family Affair” would live in. I noticed that despite the fact that these people were all probably screwing Kerie over in one way or another -- nobody, not ONE person had TOUCHED HER STUFF. The girl had a "Huh-uh, don't even THINK about it" that could be heard for miles. The Teddy Bear, who obviously had been through as much with Kerie as I had, looked particularly chagrined at this latest 'Pied a Terre.' His sad little eyes peered down at us through the net saying "Oh, my did YOU ever pick a winner THIS time, sister." He seemed quite relieved when he was silently and unceremoniously plopped into a black trash bag and transported across the sea of glam-rock wanna-be's lying on the living room floor. From the bag, I could swear I heard a tiny voice like Teddy Ruxpin saying "Thank CHRIST" as we opened the door to leave. Just then, Kerie got a look on her face like she might be changing her mind -- she looked back across the den of iniquity we had just crossed then glanced back at me. She whispered "hang on!" and quickly tiptoed back to where her room was and emerged seconds later rolling up a huge "Rick Springfield" concert poster, shaking her head and saying "Let's get the fuck out of here." And that was what we did. All 37 of us. Kerie, Rick Springfield and the stuffed animals moved in with me that very night on sixth street and we lived together for almost two years there. What had already been a great friendship now was infused with learning to truly respect one another, cook, budget, buy groceries, keep gas in the car and other things. We even had a "kid" in the form of a beautiful cinnamon-colored Chow-Chow named Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Possley Norton, "Wolfie" for short. In almost every sense of the word, we were married. We never had sex or any kind of ceremony, and we never really talked about it, but we were just "Kerie and Bob" and that was just the way it was. Kerie eventually moved back home to live with her parents and save money while she went to school to learn a trade so she could stop working in the hotel industry. She threw herself into becoming a Certified Massage Therapist and many other jobs before it was all over. After we moved out of that house on sixth street, we had about 8 years of time left -- of course we didn't know that at the time -- but that's just the way it is. Kerie moved a few times, I moved more times than we could count. We talked nearly every day no matter where we were. I eventually put myself through trade school to become a “Certified Networking Engineer” -- something that spearheaded my whole career in Software. On February 11th, 1998, I was lying in bed, dead asleep when I heard my pager go off and my cell phone ring several times. My friends have always been late-night people, and they know I love a good joke, so I figured it was just somebody calling to say “Oh, my GOD remember that time you ----” and that they were all somewhere laughing about some stupid thing I had done. About 20 minutes later, I was forcibly woken up by my ex-boyfriend John Bailey who shook me awake and said “Rob, wake up.” I was really groggy, but I noticed that there was another person in the room, my good friend Jodi (of the early morning bloody mary mentioned earlier in the blog). This wasn‘t going to be good, I could tell right away. I vaguely remember being slapped to wake up -- and the words “Rob, wake up -- we‘ve got something important to tell you... There‘s been an accident... and Kerie didn‘t make it.” At first I thought -- hoped I was dreaming. Then I thought they must be joking with me. It hit me all at once that neither one of those was true. I had spoken with her just the day before. I had a voicemail from her from the day before. I had tried to call her today. I threw up. At first I couldn‘t cry, then I couldn‘t stop crying. I cried for like six months. I went to grief counseling, I went to therapy -- I felt like my being gay kept us from being married and if we‘d been married she wouldn‘t have been where she was -- and she‘d be alive. Over time, I started to deal with it. I had to take it in little bites. I couldn‘t deal with it all at once. I never dream about Kerie. She‘s never in my sleeping thoughts. She doesn‘t come and “visit” me in visions or signals or signs very much. I really don‘t believe in that sort of thing for the most part. Though I don‘t *not* believe in it either. Though when I met Adam, he and I were not sure if we should be friends or dating or what -- and when he and I finally sat down to talk about all of that for the first time in what was to be a very difficult conversation, I had a distinct “full body” visceral experience where I felt or heard or wished she was sitting behind Adam just looking at me and I could almost see her and I could smell her and feel her there... and she clearly said two words: “Pay Attention”. I did, and I have been with him ever since. Fast forward to this week... I‘m in San Francisco on my way to Dallas for a meeting with one of my customers. I had a tough flight and had totally forgotten that Tuesday was “The Anniversary”... I had meetings in Dallas planned all day on Tuesday, then my Dad (who still lives in Dallas) and some friends and I were going to have dinner in Dallas together. The next day in Dallas, unexpectedly my meeting got out early. Way early. I called my Mom, who I hadn‘t really been able to make plans to see during this trip and told her I had some spare time and I could come to Denton to have coffee or whatever. Still not remembering that today was the day. I drove the somewhat drizzly long road to Denton, and I decided to take a bit of a different way to get to my Mom‘s office -- normally I‘d take the highways as far as I could, but I thought I‘d take a brief detour to see my hometown and take another look. I was listening to a “High-Energy” dance music station, definitely not the kind of radio station that plays “Oldies” by any stretch of the imagination. My detour took me right by my old High School. Right across the street from where I met her for the first time. I was driving along barely listening when I heard the announcer say “Now we‘ve got a special request, a blast from the past if you will” and her song started. Right then and there.
If you need a friend, don‘t look to a stranger, You know in the end, I‘ll always be there. But when you‘re in doubt, and when you‘re in danger, Take a look all around, and I‘ll be there.
I thought to myself “Oh, this was Kerie‘s favorite song!!” Then a more serious and jarring series of thoughts hit me. Wait. I‘m in Denton. God, I‘m right across the street from where we met. Holy crap. What day is it? It hit me all at once, the trip, the meeting ending early, the sudden whim to call my Mom, the decision to take a bit of a different route -- all those things and *years* of decisions before that got me to this place at this time.
I‘m sorry, but I‘m just thinking of the right words to say. I know they don‘t sound the way I planned them to be. But if you‘ll wait around awhile, I‘ll make you fall for me, I promise you, I promise you I will.
I was within an hour of the time she died, six years later, sitting in front of the place where we met, 2000 miles from home completely by chance when a dance radio station I *happened* to be listening to gets a request to play THAT song. I suddenly realized I was going to throw up. I jumped out of the car and found the nearest patch of grass and lost my conference room lunch right there.
When your day is through, and so is your temper, You know what to do, I‘m gonna always be there. Sometimes if I shout, it‘s not what‘s intended. These words just come out, with no gripe to bear. I gotta tell you, I gotta tell you, I need to tell you...
I called Adam, he talked me down from the tree I was emotionally sitting in, we decided that it was either a coincidence or it wasn‘t. Moments later, I got the chance to spend some time with my Mom‘s boss who has known me since I was 10. His son committed suicide a couple of years ago, and I hadn‘t gotten a chance to tell him how sorry I was to hear that, and to offer my condolences. I finally got the chance to just spend some time with him and let him know that he wasn‘t alone -- and I got a chance to just listen to some stuff he might not have been able to share with anybody else. Moments like that can be very frightening. What am I supposed to do with that? Are you trying to tell me something? Should I not get on that plane? Should I keep doing what I‘m doing? Where are you? Did I miss something important? Did I do something good? Does God (or whoever she or he is) like me? Are you cheering me on, or am I fucking up? Do you know that I love you and miss you and miss you and miss you so much it breaks my heart? I thought I‘d gotten over this -- why are you making me cry? Wait, don‘t stop making me cry. I guess its time for me to start believing in something bigger than myself again. Over the next couple of days, it became more and more apparent that I was *supposed* to be there at that time, as freaky as it was. I returned to San Francisco later that week and -- out of the blue -- for the first time in history, I could marry the man I love -- and we did, as you'll read in our blog on Friday the 13th. Many things happen all around me all the time, and I guess I can choose to question it up and down or just accept it and I can choose to just think of it as Kerie saying hello. Hey, ‘Bear. How you doin? Daddy bought me a new Porche because I got mine DIRTY. Shirt-T-Shirt. Can I get some trash bags and move you in with me again? I‘ll make room for your stuff. I‘m sorry, but I‘m just thinking of the right words to say. I know they don‘t sound the way I planned them to be. But if I have to walk the world, I‘ll make you fall for me, I promise you, I promise you... I will. I will. I will. ----- --------