Kyle with Laura in earthtones

The 4th of July - Part IV: Just Short of Perfect

This morning I talked to Laura who is happy and fulfilled working in PR and loving getting up every morning in NYC. She feels that knowing Kyle has helped her get to this good place. It was comforting to hear her voice. She is always in my heart.

I spent the afternoon with many long-time friends: Lloyd & Joanne & Cooper & friend, Nancy & Dorian and their ever-sweet Olivia and John, Louise, Joyce, Francesca & Sally, Karen & Chris, & old/new acquaintances Jerry & Mariette.

The food was plentiful and delicious, the humor was to the gallows and back, the talk was as deep and as shallow as one would want, stories were old and new.

The topper was that there was NO traffic across the valley, down the 405, and on the 90. I sailed to MDR. Saw lots and lots of cops and lots of people being stopped. Not surprisingly enough all were caught DWB.

I left the party (before I got tired or sad) but could have stayed comfortably for hours more. Old friends are so easy and essential. Like breathing.

The day was just short of perfect.

The 4th of July - Part II: A Beautiful Day

the first thing to remember about today is that one year ago on the 4th of July Kyle was happy. he spent the day with George and Laura and he was having a wonderful time.

and one year ago, on the 4th, Sallie and I--having the first day off in ages-- completely luxuriated in the condo pool for hours and hours. we swam or floated around, sat, sunned, read, chatted, had a light meal and drinks. all in the sun. i rarely used the pool in the two years i'd lived here. Sallie had taken to the pool the moment she'd arrived, but not me. i wouldn't get into using the pool until after Ky's death, when it became the source of great aquatherapy and meditation.

we would, some time in that gorgeous sunny day, have our brief cell phone call with Ky. he was in Santa Cruz, having fun, George was there. he talked with Sal and with me and said those last words, "I'll call you when I'm back in the city, Mom. Love you." and, as Ky would say, it was "all good."

so, in replaying this day, we don't need to feel bad; we haven't come to the scary part. as a boy, forever in tune with music, Ky would run from the room as soon as the music told him the scary part was starting. well, the music hasn't changed. the scary part's not starting yet.

so don't cry for me or Ky or anyone or yourself yet. today is the anniversary of a beautiful 4th of July where relaxation and fun and friendship and love reigned.

The 4th of July - Part I: Not Alone

this is a pic of Laura (well a sliver of Laura) and Kyle. Laura did the colors thing; she is quite artistic. i like this pic of Ky because i know he is having a good time; he's with Laura; they are lying around together (not doing homework, not working). i don't know how they took it, though maybe Laura did with her cell, which is why we can't see her. it was taken early in their all too brief relationship, in the early months of 2007. i wanted to post something that would remind me that Kyle was in love and not alone.

i, also, am loved and not alone. family and friends have been leaving messages or posting or otherwise letting me know that they are holding me in their thoughts. holding me. perfect words. they are holding me and no doubt trying to protect me against what i--along with gearey and miranda and laura and many many others--will relive over the next few days.

i will be with friends during the mid-day. i will lock Toby in the bathroom with KUSC and take a short walk down the channel to the fireworks. i will be okay. after all, last year's 4th of July was a beautiful day.

it's been 6 months

you probably can tell that i've returned to "normal" life again. working 6.5 days a week. so there is never enough time for blogging, which has stopped being a vital necessity, and now gets pushed down lower on the list of Things I Must Do while urgent things rise to the top. it's too bad. i miss it. though i do blog in my head quite a bit. (what used to be thought of as talking to myself.) usually in the car. wishing i could stop, find a little cafe, get a cup of coffee (which i really don't drink), whip out my computer (which i won't have with me), internet-connect away and blog my heart out.

so right now i am indulging myself, procrastinating getting back to work and sneaking a little blog.

things are better. about kyle i mean of course. maybe it's the magic 6 months thing. or maybe there are only so many tears.

i do get stirred up. like a couple of weeks ago dear george came by to visit and download a bunch of ky's music (come one, come all, get up to 9000 tunes personally selected by DJ Ky in the Sky) and then sweet laura came out to dinner with sal, dev, rhea, and me. and then i visited ky's grave and then i got more letters from the organ/tissue donor folk about an event to honor the 2007 donors. and then i had a wonderful phone call from dear vinnie and a marathon phone call from dear stevie (another Boston Children's Theatre alum) whom i'd not visited with in 5 longs years and by the end of the weekend i was exhausted and my reserves were low and i cried easily. but of course that is what my life is about in this phase. less acute pain. more dull pain. loss and love and replenishing and sadness and care and healing.

today i meet gearey at Advent Bronze and Granite to look at Kyle's marker.

Mysterious Ways

Lovely Laura, Kyle's girlfriend, came over last night. She is doing beautifully, having just graduated from the University of San Francisco with a psychology major. She looked wonderful and healthy and was upbeat. It was so comforting to see her doing so well.

Laura had done a remarkably brave thing. She had taken the Caltrain again. THE train from near Santa Cruz headed north. THE train that had stopped for 45 minutes and then, while Kyle was going to fetch them Chinese food, started up again after only 20 to 30 minutes. The train he had tried to climb on. The train he had fallen from.

Laura had gone to the second story (I hadn't realized this was a double decker train) and taken a seat. She sat at the back, as close to the seat she had sat in on July 5th as she could tell. It was not easy.

Obviously, this would have been overwhelming for anyone who had lost her boyfriend in a train accident. But two more things happened to shake her up a bit. The seatback that she faced was covered in graffiti. Writing not that artistic, kind of like Kyle would have done if he'd taken to defacing backs of seats on trains. She looked around at the other seats. No other had writing of any kind.

The she found beneath her seat a bag containing Chinese food, left untouched by a previous passenger. She called her parents.

I'm not going so far as to say that Kyle finally delivered Laura the food he promised but left in a hurry. But hearing about the graffiti and the food did take my breath away.

One more reason I may have to start Atheists for an Afterlife.

Holiday Greetings

This is a picture of Kyle celebrating with friends, Brent, Maria, and Phil during a recent Christmas. They are were part of the SFSU Early Bird Program, and met in the dorm the summer of 2003.

I keep going back to my blog looking for new posts and realizing they won't show up unless I write them!!! BUT, heavily involved in pre-packing, some present creating, office parties, and general chaos, so not so much time to write.

So, I'm heading out again for errands, but wanting to let you know I am filled with relative peace, intermittant joy, and love for all of our family and old and new friends. The sky is blue today and I'm wearing the beautiful maroon and black t-shirt that Laura made for me, with Kyle's face silkscreened on it. And since I've lost 20 pounds, I look downright adorable.

So I hope your post-Chanukah and pre-Christmas preparations are going well.

Love,

Cynthia

Last Night I Had A Dream . . .

actually it was the night before last. And Kyle was in it. It was only the second time I have dreamt about Kyle and it was wonderful to see him again. This picture (sent recently to me by Maria H., who lived in Ky's dorm when they were freshmen and who stayed a good friend) was kind of like how Ky looked to me in the dream.

Like most dreams, it was illusive. I awoke and couldn't remember the whole thing. I do remember holding Ky's face and stroking it and talking to him. I knew he had died or was going to die and I knew he knew it too, but I said something like, "Things are not going to turn out" or "Things are going to be bad" and then "but right now we can enjoy this time."

The earlier part of the dream felt like the real-life illusory nature of a visit home from Kyle. He'd be rushing in, rushing out, in his room, off at the beach, out with friends. Getting him to actually light on the couch or at the table for long was not easy.

That was what was so memorable about his last visit home. He hung out more. He laid down on my bed and listened and indulged his mother's going through her Scotland slide show. He took time to talk to me about his girlfriend Laura, whom he clearly loved. "She's different, Mom. You'll see. She's special. I want you to meet her." He even organized all his stuff and got ready to go (Sallie drove him to the bus) in a timely fashion. Almost as if he were savoring his time with us.

I still am surprised, although not shocked, when I remember each day that he is not coming home. I do hope he'll be hanging out in my dreams again. And I hope I remember more of the dream next time.

Altered Mental State or This Grieving Thing is Relentless

The bill from the ambulance company arrived and it's adding to my distress. It's not the amount of the bill that's distressing. Although the amount would be distressing if I believed I was going to have to pay all of it. But, as you know, I have a great union job (Go UPTE) with great benefits, and Blue Cross has told me to tell American Medical Response to send the bill to them. So, right now, it's not the amount that is distressing. It's the other information I get from this document.

(1) It's got the date of service: 7/5/07. The date of the fall. The date of the call. The drive up north to Standford starts.
(2) It's got a notation: "CALL RCVD 19:08." That is 8 minutes after 7:00. Ky answered his last phone call at 7:01. The call that Laura made telling him to hurry because the train was starting up again.
(3) It's got the "Service from" 121 W. Evelyn Ave and "Service to" Stanford Medical Center. I googled the address and it was the Sunnyvale Caltrain Station address. The map says it was 11.9 miles and it would take 22 minutes. I remember the hospital said the ambulance took 12 minutes. So it flew at 60 miles an hour on this route.
(4) Then it's got this list of codes, descriptions, units, and charges per unit and total charges. Again, I'm not gonna freak out about the charges yet. But here is the relentless part; thinking about all the paramedics were trying to do and did in those 12 minutes:

The did ALS for for 14 miles. ALS is Advanced Life Support. They did a "major dressing" and they intubated him, and they did an EKG and they used a cervical collar on his neck, and they had two kinds of masks (big value mask and non-rebreather mask), and a defib pad, and a lidocaine drip, and 1000cc's of saline, and a blood glucose test, and a headbed immobilizer, and $89 worth of oxygen. Bless you paramedics, for all you tried to do.

(5) At the bottom, I see the word Diagnosis and the code: 78097. I recognize this is an ICD-9-CM code like in my DSM IV. And I know it should be written 780.97, but they usually leave out the periods in computerized forms. And I look up 780.97 and the diagnosis is simply:
Altered Mental State.

Ky was no longer Ky.

Appointment in San Francisco

it might be a blessing right now that kyle lived in san francisco.

he had been living there for four short years. for a while after he headed up to SFSU in 2003, it was clear his home was LA, certainly until 2005 when i moved from Eagle Rock to the westside. then i learned he felt i was depriving him of a home; sort of a shock, since i was so proud i had provided him the same home for 18 years--something i had never had growing up. he wanted me to "do what i had to do," but didn't want me to expect him "to be happy about it." he didn't want me to feel guilty, he just wanted me to know that it wasn't his choice.

ky came home for stints after classes ended in may, tended to go back up north in july. he came on Labor Day, Thanksgiving, Christmas, spring breaks--right near his birthday. this year he came down on Memorial Day too and was planning on another trip in the summer. he wanted to introduce us to Laura, his lovely girlfriend.

when home, he'd go out painting/writing on the Venice beach graffiti wall, go to galleries, have lunches or dinners with his dad, see some friends. but he tended to get bored, antsy, and always seemed ready to head back up to San Francisco.

my sister sallie had come to visit in November, feeling out California for a bit and had stayed on through the holidays, and then the spring. i made it clear to both sallie and kyle that the bedroom was kyle's, for him to have when he came home. she'd bunk in with me during his visits. it was so he wouldn't feel thrown out, would know he had a home. so there wouldn't be a huge pressure for him if he didn't have a solid plan after graduation, if SF hadn't become the home for him that NYC had become for miranda. i presumed that following his graduation, he might come back to LA. like every parent i hoped he wouldn't live with me forever, but i wanted him to know that if San Francisco was too cold or too wrong or too something, that he had a home with me for a while.

but then sometime during the winter or the spring he said on a call, "Mom, you know San Francisco is my home now. I have work and friends here, so don't expect me to move back in." i was surprised and pleased for him. i wanted him to feel he belonged some place. coming back to LA might feel like he was retreating and i was glad he saw himself with a future in that wonderful city. hell, SF is tackling the health insurance issue and kyle would be 23 next year and no longer eligible on my heath plan. but also i wondered whether he was saying this so that sallie would feel welcome to stay longer.

of course the other reason i was pleased was that he wouldn't be here in LA driving on the freeways. he had a tendency to drive a little like a maniac. he'd never drink and drive, but he had a genetic inheritance (3rd generation) of, shall we say, an automotive-related eruptive temperament. the more he stayed up north, the safer he would be. god bless public transportation. SFSU and San Francisco were providing a holding tank, a place of safety where kyle could grow up without the danger of driving.

i think of the traditional tale (repeated by Maugham and O'Hara), where a servant runs away to Samarra after seeing Death gesturing to him in the market place in Baghdad--and when his master confronts Death, Death says that he was not gesturing to the servant, but only expressing surprise to see him in Baghdad, because he actually has an appoinment to see him that evening in Samarra. in aiding my son to avoid Death on the freeways of LA , i could not protect him from a Death by transportation in SF.

and, you might now ask, what is the blessing that i mentioned at the start?
because i am used to his being gone up north, just up the highway.
because i am used to knowing he'll be coming "home" again in a couple of months.
the time he is gone now feels like the times he's been gone before.
and every so often i have that brief lovely expectation flash through my mind, kyle will be back from school again soon.

it's only a flash, but it's so lovely for the precious moment
before i remember.