Just finished watching the latest episode of "Grey's Anatomy" on my DVR. One of the story lines particularly struck a chord with me. A young girl, barely 18 had to decide whether or not to take her father off of life support. It reminded me that my brother & I had to make a similar decision regarding my dad. A decision that is so difficult to reflect on. But one that needs to be brought to light. Funny thing is, for as much as I use writing as therapy, I don't think I have ever written about that night...
Just 24 hours prior to his passing, our family was elated and celebrating the fact that Dad was going to get his lung. It happened! The little black pager that had been so closely and carefully guarded (batteries frequently checked) finally sounded--and it was not a drill! This was just days after Dad made the decision to come home to die. Almost a year had gone by and no donors in sight. That beautiful buzzing sound was such music to our deprived ears. We couldn't help but dance a happy dance to it! Immediately, we contacted the surgical transplant team and my dad was transported to the hospital he had just checked out of, but this time it was for a helicopter ride to UCLA.
Immediately, the phone & prayer tree began. I called cousins Tim & Amy, who had earlier volunteered to inform the family. Now when I speak of family, I'm talking a HUGE percentage of the tiny towns we grew up in. And let's not forget the ones in various states across the country. Aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, third cousins--all who knew and loved my Dad in some capacity. We drove the seemingly endless rout discussing all of the wonderful things we were going to do with Dad, once the surgery was done and he had time to recover. We recalled how in recent months, some of his close friends would joke with him about taking out vagrants on the street in hopes that they would be suitable donors. And how when cousin Amy's sister and niece were killed in a car accident, the family had the grace to request that they be considered as possible donors for my dad. They, sadly, were not compatible donors for him, but were able to help other families.
Once we got to UCLA, we were given VIP treatment. We had our very own waiting room and my mom was whisked away to see my dad as he was prepped for the surgery. After waiting for some time, a nurse came to get the family members there (me, my brothers & sisters & grandparents) one at a time to say goodbye and wish him luck before the surgery. I was called in first. But when I walked in, I immediately noticed a heaviness in the air and a sense of dread. Instead of seeing my mom's smiling face, I saw her in tears. She somehow found the courage to tell me that the 'donor's lung' wasn't accepted and that there would be no surgery. It still echos in my head... '... there will be no surgery'.
Nothing could be more sobering than to realize in that moment, that Dad was not going to make it. Doctor's had already told him that he was lucky to have made it this far. I reluctantly returned to the waiting room, where I assumed the staff had informed the family about the situation. When it was apparent they had not been informed, I asked my cousin (also one of my dad's closest friends) if she would please help me tell my family (she was a registered nurse and had a way with soothing people). Suddenly our happy tears turned into distraught sobs. Another family in the room (also waiting to see a loved one) quietly left the room to give our family privacy to grieve. The ride home that night was a tearful reflection of our years spent with our father.
Mom stayed the night with my dad and rode home with him the next morning. I learned later from her, that she and my dad had a long discussion and reflection and barely slept. They professed their love for each other. My dad expressed that he was sorry that he rarely spent time at family gatherings. He reflected on the surprise 50th birthday fundraiser party we gave him and how much fun he'd had. He told her that he wished he'd been present more often because our family had so many happy times at those parties. "When I'm gone, I want you guys to have a party for me every year. Like the one for my 50th. I'll be with you there." He also told my mom that the person's face that he wanted to see most when he got to heaven, was her mom. She was such a wonderful, loving, saintly woman.
My sisters and I tried to make his room as comfy for him as we could. The medical suppliers left oxygen for my dad, but we could tell it wasn't going to be nearly enough. They had left 3 and he was accustomed to 6, so we had to straiten that up by calling the local fire department to transport more in. (they knew my dad's situation with the oxygen and had an emergency plan just for accommodating him in the event of a natural disaster) Once he arrived home, he began to panic. There wasn't enough oxygen, there weren't enough meds, there wasn't enough time...
He decided he didn't want my grandmother present when he died, only my mom and us kids (and his best friend Paul and his wife (my dad's close cousin--the RN). It was a long, long night. After calling the local pharmacist at home (around midnight) to please fill my dad's prescription to calm his nerves, we met him at the pharmacy and expressed our gratitude for helping to ease my dad's final hours.
We all gathered around Dad to say our goodbyes and more importantly, tell him that it was O.K. to leave us. He first asked to see J.J. (my sister's son, who was his namesake), then J.J. was handed over to Carol & Paul after they said their goodbyes. Then it was just my mom and the 5 of us. He kept saying, "I need more air, I can't breathe." My brother and I looked at each other in an understanding, as all 6 of his oxygen tanks were turned up to maximum output. We said, "O.K. Dad, we'll turn it up a couple of notches." Then we proceeded to carefully shut down his tanks, one by one... "How's that Dad? Better?" "Yes." he replied, "better..." We all touched him, held his hands, said our "I love you's".
"I love all of you." he gasped... before he began speaking about his 'crossing' we can only assume. With glassy eyes, he looked in the area of his window, and asked, "How do I look?" Then, he said, "Which way do I face" and then finally, "O.k., I'm ready." And that was it. My brother and I shut down the last of the tanks, and Dad left us for a better place...
"... And suddenly, the life we knew before, was over. Forever."
That morning, my mom, and sister and I drove the 10 miles to deliver the news to my grandparents. On the ride over, (about 3:30 am) we saw the brightest, most beautiful shooting star cross our night path. It was as if Dad was saying, "Hello! I'm home!" And now and forever more, we will think of him when a shooting star crosses our path.
I used to be afraid of death. Now; not so much. I am completely content and prepared if I should die tonight, or tomorrow, or next week. Because I know that he will be there to help cross me over, as I'm sure my grandmother was there for him. I feel blessed that I was present to help his crossing from this plane, as he breathed his final breath and crossed into the next...
Monday, January 9, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Baby, Baby
Within the last couple of weeks, I have had the opportunity privilege of holding infants, which stirred up so many happy emotions. The two precious souls were my nephew's baby brother (1 mo. old) and my first baby niece (3 mos. old). On both occasions, their mothers acknowledged that I had a special way with them.
Frank Jr.'s mom said that aside from her and her neighbor, I was the only other person that could calm him when he got restless. She had come over to exchange gifts and visit with my nephew. (she is his dad's widow) She has a 1 year old and a 1 mo. old, plus a 16 year old daughter with a 4 mo. old! She told me that if her daughter got pregnant again, that she would hand her next grandchild over to me in a heartbeat. That left me a bit speechless...
The second person to acknowledge my "baby whisperer" ways, was my sis-in-law as I held her daughter. She told me that I looked so comfortable with a baby in my arms and that I really should pursue motherhood. She knows my situation and has offered before to be a surrogate womb for me. She said if one of my sisters donates one of their eggs and I found the right donor for me, she would very happily carry my child.
All I know is that if I could bottle the feeling that I get when I hold a baby, I'd be a gazillionaire! I think it is something I need to consider. But how does one go about choosing a father? Do I go for 'Daddy' material or 'Donor' material? It is a question I will no doubt be pondering in the rash of sleepless nights that I seem to now be accustomed to...
Frank Jr.'s mom said that aside from her and her neighbor, I was the only other person that could calm him when he got restless. She had come over to exchange gifts and visit with my nephew. (she is his dad's widow) She has a 1 year old and a 1 mo. old, plus a 16 year old daughter with a 4 mo. old! She told me that if her daughter got pregnant again, that she would hand her next grandchild over to me in a heartbeat. That left me a bit speechless...
The second person to acknowledge my "baby whisperer" ways, was my sis-in-law as I held her daughter. She told me that I looked so comfortable with a baby in my arms and that I really should pursue motherhood. She knows my situation and has offered before to be a surrogate womb for me. She said if one of my sisters donates one of their eggs and I found the right donor for me, she would very happily carry my child.
All I know is that if I could bottle the feeling that I get when I hold a baby, I'd be a gazillionaire! I think it is something I need to consider. But how does one go about choosing a father? Do I go for 'Daddy' material or 'Donor' material? It is a question I will no doubt be pondering in the rash of sleepless nights that I seem to now be accustomed to...
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Keyshia Cole - I Remember
"For the rest of my life, I promise myself I will love me first genuinely..."
I can't think of a more fitting lyrical sentence to end the "Year of Me" with.
This is a 'dedication' to my past loves, and a reminder for me that from this moment on, the love of a man will come secondary only to the love I've got going on for ME!
Feliz Año Nuevo!
Feliz Año Nuevo!
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Mystery Man
Looks like yet another sleepless night. I am so freaking happy and content right now, you'd think I'd be able to sleep! One of the reasons I think I'm soooooo unbelievably happy, is because I have decided to forgive myself and my past loves for the indiscretions and hurt that has pained me for so long. It is one giant weight off my shoulders and I feel so light and airy now. It is a beautiful, wonderful feeling...
BUT...
Aye, but there is always a BUT!!! I learned today that I have a FB "stalker" that has his heart set on me. He actually referred to himself as a "stalker"--not my words, but he did so in a playful, humorous way. I do not feel creeped out in any way, whatsoever. However, he did lay all of his cards on the table.
The man claims to be 'in love' with everything about me. Claims to have had these feelings since the first time he saw me (he was in 6th grade and I was in 5th) and he wants only for a chance to "knock me off my feet" (a reference to one of my FB post from a couple of weeks ago). He has 3 children, a successful (very rich) girlfriend and lives a thousand miles away, yet he claims he would drop everything to be with me; leave his girlfriend, uproot his family to move out here--just to be with me. He thinks I'm beautiful, sexy, kind, passionate, brainy, witty, and he doesn't care if I'm skinny or fat, or tall or short--he wants me just the way I am. He wants to take care of me, shower me with love, cook for me, be my protector, whisk me away to travel on a whim, save the world with me one child at a time. He has a passion for helping the underprivileged (especially children and senior citizens). My mom was his teacher in school and a HUGE influence on his life. He claims that she is responsible for his success because she 'believed' in him... way back in 6th grade. I almost want to pinch myself, because I've never had a man open up to me like this--ever. I mean this is the kind of stuff that romantic comedies are made of, right? Yet, while I am 100% flattered that he feels this way, I still have my qualms.
My only hang up with him--is that he is white... (there, I said it; and I know it sounds silly and a little bit prejudiced, but it's true...). I have NEVER dated a white man. I'm pretty sure it's because my rapist was white, but nonetheless, I have never found myself viewing a white man as boyfriend material, let alone for a life partner. I know I have to get over it, and he may just be the one to do it.
After he spilled his heart and soul to me, I had to give him hope. I told him, I would like very much to be wooed. But that I also would hate to let him down if the connection wasn't there--after all, he has been the one "stalking" me. I just found out about his adoration of me, so naturally, he can't expect me to feel the same intense love that he apparently feels for me. He agreed and is happy for the chance to woo me. I also told him honestly that I had never been courted by a white man and never even considered it. Immediately, he knew... and responded with, "did a white guy hurt you? Just tell me who it was and I will 'fuck him up'!" Did I mention that he can also make me laugh?
Who knows if he will win my heart... (apparently, he thinks he can and who am I to squash his dreams?) I only know that for once in my life, it will be nice to be on the receiving end of the love and affection that I have doled out for so long...
BUT...
Aye, but there is always a BUT!!! I learned today that I have a FB "stalker" that has his heart set on me. He actually referred to himself as a "stalker"--not my words, but he did so in a playful, humorous way. I do not feel creeped out in any way, whatsoever. However, he did lay all of his cards on the table.
The man claims to be 'in love' with everything about me. Claims to have had these feelings since the first time he saw me (he was in 6th grade and I was in 5th) and he wants only for a chance to "knock me off my feet" (a reference to one of my FB post from a couple of weeks ago). He has 3 children, a successful (very rich) girlfriend and lives a thousand miles away, yet he claims he would drop everything to be with me; leave his girlfriend, uproot his family to move out here--just to be with me. He thinks I'm beautiful, sexy, kind, passionate, brainy, witty, and he doesn't care if I'm skinny or fat, or tall or short--he wants me just the way I am. He wants to take care of me, shower me with love, cook for me, be my protector, whisk me away to travel on a whim, save the world with me one child at a time. He has a passion for helping the underprivileged (especially children and senior citizens). My mom was his teacher in school and a HUGE influence on his life. He claims that she is responsible for his success because she 'believed' in him... way back in 6th grade. I almost want to pinch myself, because I've never had a man open up to me like this--ever. I mean this is the kind of stuff that romantic comedies are made of, right? Yet, while I am 100% flattered that he feels this way, I still have my qualms.
My only hang up with him--is that he is white... (there, I said it; and I know it sounds silly and a little bit prejudiced, but it's true...). I have NEVER dated a white man. I'm pretty sure it's because my rapist was white, but nonetheless, I have never found myself viewing a white man as boyfriend material, let alone for a life partner. I know I have to get over it, and he may just be the one to do it.
After he spilled his heart and soul to me, I had to give him hope. I told him, I would like very much to be wooed. But that I also would hate to let him down if the connection wasn't there--after all, he has been the one "stalking" me. I just found out about his adoration of me, so naturally, he can't expect me to feel the same intense love that he apparently feels for me. He agreed and is happy for the chance to woo me. I also told him honestly that I had never been courted by a white man and never even considered it. Immediately, he knew... and responded with, "did a white guy hurt you? Just tell me who it was and I will 'fuck him up'!" Did I mention that he can also make me laugh?
Who knows if he will win my heart... (apparently, he thinks he can and who am I to squash his dreams?) I only know that for once in my life, it will be nice to be on the receiving end of the love and affection that I have doled out for so long...
Oh Honey Delegation (Lyrics to a classic)
A great song that has so much meaning for me and the lucky fool that catches me...
It sums up my "ideal" relationship. A brand new start with endless possibilities. I get warm & fuzzy just thinking about a future like this with a man that loves me as much as I do him. Ahhh... (*smiles galore)
Saturday, December 24, 2011
The End of the Beginning
I have been thinking a lot about the last year, as I prepare to take on the next. Like in Dicken's book, A Tale of Two Cities, this year for me was the best of times, and it was the worst of times...
It was the BEST year, because I rediscovered ME. For so many years, I was a zombie, just moving through life and not really taking the time to focus on my happiness as I had done in my youth. But this year, I found the place in my heart that allowed me to love myself. I am thrilled that I no longer fit in my clothes--I don't even care that I can't afford new ones! I am feeling healthy and sensual as a woman and I am not embarrassed to flirt or spark up a conversation with a man! I am NOT holding any of my feelings (negative or positive) in. That in itself has allowed me the freedom to lay all my cards on the table and let the world know that I am not one to be walked on or used or taken for granted.
It was the WORST of times, because I also rediscovered that no matter what, I am still gonna hurt--whether it is intentionally inflicted on me or not. I don't have to be loved by every man that I love--It isn't a requirement for great sex--only for a committed relationship. And just because I like sex and am single, does NOT make me a slut. Especially, since I know that when the 'right' man comes along, he will have ALL of my attention. I also learned that life is too damned short, not to take risks and chances with all possibilities--all is fair in love and the pursuit thereof.
I lost a family member, and a friend who was way too young to die. His tragic life story of life and love lost and found only to be torn apart by death is what docudrama's are made of. In fact that has been my life for so many years--a docudrama.
But this year was still a turning point in my life. I choose to live the next part of my life, not as a docudrama, but rather, a romantic comedy about a girl who is single and in love with herself. One where around any corner, on any given day in her life she may or may not run into a handsome co-star that will give her a run for her money. One that will know what he wants in life... ME, of course! And in both small and intoxicating doses. One that will laugh with me, one that can be whisked away on a whim for whatever adventure or romantic tryst may present itself. And if it's a month, a year, 10 years or 20, I will be just fine experimenting with the vast variety that swim freely in this beautiful ocean of life...
It was the BEST year, because I rediscovered ME. For so many years, I was a zombie, just moving through life and not really taking the time to focus on my happiness as I had done in my youth. But this year, I found the place in my heart that allowed me to love myself. I am thrilled that I no longer fit in my clothes--I don't even care that I can't afford new ones! I am feeling healthy and sensual as a woman and I am not embarrassed to flirt or spark up a conversation with a man! I am NOT holding any of my feelings (negative or positive) in. That in itself has allowed me the freedom to lay all my cards on the table and let the world know that I am not one to be walked on or used or taken for granted.
It was the WORST of times, because I also rediscovered that no matter what, I am still gonna hurt--whether it is intentionally inflicted on me or not. I don't have to be loved by every man that I love--It isn't a requirement for great sex--only for a committed relationship. And just because I like sex and am single, does NOT make me a slut. Especially, since I know that when the 'right' man comes along, he will have ALL of my attention. I also learned that life is too damned short, not to take risks and chances with all possibilities--all is fair in love and the pursuit thereof.
I lost a family member, and a friend who was way too young to die. His tragic life story of life and love lost and found only to be torn apart by death is what docudrama's are made of. In fact that has been my life for so many years--a docudrama.
But this year was still a turning point in my life. I choose to live the next part of my life, not as a docudrama, but rather, a romantic comedy about a girl who is single and in love with herself. One where around any corner, on any given day in her life she may or may not run into a handsome co-star that will give her a run for her money. One that will know what he wants in life... ME, of course! And in both small and intoxicating doses. One that will laugh with me, one that can be whisked away on a whim for whatever adventure or romantic tryst may present itself. And if it's a month, a year, 10 years or 20, I will be just fine experimenting with the vast variety that swim freely in this beautiful ocean of life...
Thursday, December 1, 2011
The Final 4
Well, here it is... the end of November and I am bearing down on b-day #44. So, naturally, I find myself asking that age-old question, "why the hell am I still single?!"
Over my week-long Thanksgiving break, I began to look deep within myself for the answer to that question. I went over all of my life-changing events, searching for clues that might lead me to the answer. I can best sum up my 'research' as follows:
I have always been a spiritual being. And it is my belief that we are sent here to this human plane to learn the lessons of the universe, and our 'hell', or purgatory if you will, is constantly returning until we learn all of life's lessons. I have always assumed that my life's goals this time around was to be a mother. Then recently, I realized, I have already mastered that lesson--perhaps in my last life. That's why in this life, I was able to mother so many: 3 children (one with Down Syndrome) as a nanny; my nephew as his godmother and one of his primary caregivers for so many years; not to mention the years of babysitting younger cousins before becoming a kindergarten teacher to over 300 children to date (including children with autism, asperger's syndrome, depression, orphaned, abused, ADHD, etc.) Therefor, I concluded that this round of 'purgatory' is aimed at humility, service and fulfilling the needs of others (mainly men, err rather--boys)!
To back this research up, I drew on the session several years back with a psychic. She 'saw' me living on or near the water (pacific ocean, no doubt) and she saw 4 boys around me. Now for a good part of my child-bearing years, I thought it meant that I would have 4 children--all boys. Then, as years unfurled and I realized that without a relationship, the only boys I had were my nephews (4)--that must be what the psychic meant. But now, I think I see the light. Those 4 boys are my exes!
It makes perfect sense now. By nature, and according to numerology, astrology, (both conventional and ancient aztec & mayan) and the asian zodiac, I am the epitome of my signs. "Nurturing, caring, loyal, optimistic, sensitive, fun-loving, etc. and I am a natural teacher, artist, counselor, spiritual leader, peacemaker", blah, blah, blah... "I see the good in all people; I'm the master of compromise; I never demand praise or recognition; I expect a great deal of myself; I prefer amiable to competitive; I'm not one to dominate a group or situation", blah, blah, blah...
There it is! I am single today because I gave and gave and gave to each of my exes, NEVER expecting anything in return.
My first love was protective of my naivety (still is); he got along with my family perfectly (still does); when he left to serve the country overseas, he promised to return to me. When he did not, I wished him well in his business endeavor and told him I'd always be there for him. Today he owns a prosperous business and he is the most open and honest of my 4 exes. Even though we have not been sexually involved in almost 25 years, he gives me strength to continue to have faith in men by consoling me and giving me perspective on the male psyche. I love him. He is the 'realest' of the 4.
My second love lasted the longest. We were good friends. We had fun whether we were watching a ball game, playing a board game, having sex, listening to music, having dinner. My mom and grandmother loved him, his parents and sister loved me. I took him to visit my grandparents in the Easten Sierras (my favorite playground), he and his dad took me fishing on Lake Eerie. I took him to a Mexican food joint in Pacoima, he took me to a dive bar in a Cleveland ghetto. We took each other out of our comfort zones. I love him. He is the most down-to-earth of the 4.
My third love is really my 4th, I'll explain when I get to my 4th. For the purposes of this post, he's my 3rd. He and I had the same desires. We were romantics and wanted true love, complete with children and a white picket fence (so to speak). He made me feel safe, and special when I was with him. He admired my mother and how close my family was. We wanted to share that closeness with our own family one day. Eventually, he left back home. I visited a couple of times, but both of us had issues. I was needy and sensitive since my dad's death, he was controlling and a bit condescending at times. We went our separate ways, but still kept in touch. We both pursued higher education (very important to both of us). Once we both 'made it' in our chosen professions and did some serious maturing, we began to realize that neither of us were getting any younger. We were both doing well, but were missing that dream of having a family. So we made a pact to become parents together when we were ready. I love him. He is the hopeless romantic of the 4.
My final love was in my life before I met my third. We began seeing each other again 1 year ago. It was the most intense, relationship of the four. I think it was made more intense due to the fact that we share the same astrological sign. Both of us passionate, fun-loving, and intensely sexual. We hit the ground running. We had so many things in common it was eerie. I felt like a teenager having him in my life again. I love him. He's the most sensual of the 4.
All of these boys needed me in one way or another. Number 1 needed assurance that someone back home was missing him, thinking of him, writing to him, while he was uncertain if he would survive his tour of duty. Then, when he returned, he decided to live out his dreams without me. Number 2 had his best friend in me. When an unexpected pregnancy threatened his future, he assumed I could handle an abortion to save his football career. Number 3 saw that I would be wonderful mom material. But what he really needs is a babymama that is complacent and dutiful. And Number 4 needed the companionship and zest for life that I was finally ready to give but in the end, he dumped me for a grandmother (still trying to build my self esteem up from that one).
Humility: being torn down by the men you love and still loving them. These 4 boys have sucked the life out of me. I think its why I'm leery of 'new' relationships. There's not much left to take! I'll stick with my 4 for now, and trust that the universe has something special waiting for all the pain I've gone through. I even sound like their mother!!
Over my week-long Thanksgiving break, I began to look deep within myself for the answer to that question. I went over all of my life-changing events, searching for clues that might lead me to the answer. I can best sum up my 'research' as follows:
I have always been a spiritual being. And it is my belief that we are sent here to this human plane to learn the lessons of the universe, and our 'hell', or purgatory if you will, is constantly returning until we learn all of life's lessons. I have always assumed that my life's goals this time around was to be a mother. Then recently, I realized, I have already mastered that lesson--perhaps in my last life. That's why in this life, I was able to mother so many: 3 children (one with Down Syndrome) as a nanny; my nephew as his godmother and one of his primary caregivers for so many years; not to mention the years of babysitting younger cousins before becoming a kindergarten teacher to over 300 children to date (including children with autism, asperger's syndrome, depression, orphaned, abused, ADHD, etc.) Therefor, I concluded that this round of 'purgatory' is aimed at humility, service and fulfilling the needs of others (mainly men, err rather--boys)!
To back this research up, I drew on the session several years back with a psychic. She 'saw' me living on or near the water (pacific ocean, no doubt) and she saw 4 boys around me. Now for a good part of my child-bearing years, I thought it meant that I would have 4 children--all boys. Then, as years unfurled and I realized that without a relationship, the only boys I had were my nephews (4)--that must be what the psychic meant. But now, I think I see the light. Those 4 boys are my exes!
It makes perfect sense now. By nature, and according to numerology, astrology, (both conventional and ancient aztec & mayan) and the asian zodiac, I am the epitome of my signs. "Nurturing, caring, loyal, optimistic, sensitive, fun-loving, etc. and I am a natural teacher, artist, counselor, spiritual leader, peacemaker", blah, blah, blah... "I see the good in all people; I'm the master of compromise; I never demand praise or recognition; I expect a great deal of myself; I prefer amiable to competitive; I'm not one to dominate a group or situation", blah, blah, blah...
There it is! I am single today because I gave and gave and gave to each of my exes, NEVER expecting anything in return.
My first love was protective of my naivety (still is); he got along with my family perfectly (still does); when he left to serve the country overseas, he promised to return to me. When he did not, I wished him well in his business endeavor and told him I'd always be there for him. Today he owns a prosperous business and he is the most open and honest of my 4 exes. Even though we have not been sexually involved in almost 25 years, he gives me strength to continue to have faith in men by consoling me and giving me perspective on the male psyche. I love him. He is the 'realest' of the 4.
My second love lasted the longest. We were good friends. We had fun whether we were watching a ball game, playing a board game, having sex, listening to music, having dinner. My mom and grandmother loved him, his parents and sister loved me. I took him to visit my grandparents in the Easten Sierras (my favorite playground), he and his dad took me fishing on Lake Eerie. I took him to a Mexican food joint in Pacoima, he took me to a dive bar in a Cleveland ghetto. We took each other out of our comfort zones. I love him. He is the most down-to-earth of the 4.
My third love is really my 4th, I'll explain when I get to my 4th. For the purposes of this post, he's my 3rd. He and I had the same desires. We were romantics and wanted true love, complete with children and a white picket fence (so to speak). He made me feel safe, and special when I was with him. He admired my mother and how close my family was. We wanted to share that closeness with our own family one day. Eventually, he left back home. I visited a couple of times, but both of us had issues. I was needy and sensitive since my dad's death, he was controlling and a bit condescending at times. We went our separate ways, but still kept in touch. We both pursued higher education (very important to both of us). Once we both 'made it' in our chosen professions and did some serious maturing, we began to realize that neither of us were getting any younger. We were both doing well, but were missing that dream of having a family. So we made a pact to become parents together when we were ready. I love him. He is the hopeless romantic of the 4.
My final love was in my life before I met my third. We began seeing each other again 1 year ago. It was the most intense, relationship of the four. I think it was made more intense due to the fact that we share the same astrological sign. Both of us passionate, fun-loving, and intensely sexual. We hit the ground running. We had so many things in common it was eerie. I felt like a teenager having him in my life again. I love him. He's the most sensual of the 4.
All of these boys needed me in one way or another. Number 1 needed assurance that someone back home was missing him, thinking of him, writing to him, while he was uncertain if he would survive his tour of duty. Then, when he returned, he decided to live out his dreams without me. Number 2 had his best friend in me. When an unexpected pregnancy threatened his future, he assumed I could handle an abortion to save his football career. Number 3 saw that I would be wonderful mom material. But what he really needs is a babymama that is complacent and dutiful. And Number 4 needed the companionship and zest for life that I was finally ready to give but in the end, he dumped me for a grandmother (still trying to build my self esteem up from that one).
Humility: being torn down by the men you love and still loving them. These 4 boys have sucked the life out of me. I think its why I'm leery of 'new' relationships. There's not much left to take! I'll stick with my 4 for now, and trust that the universe has something special waiting for all the pain I've gone through. I even sound like their mother!!
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