I'm just your average, everyday, divorced 38 year old girl -- overweight, tragically unhip,
and trying to make a life for myself. I live with two furry beasts, Dave and Abby, whose
feline mission in life is to choke me with their fur. Nothing special.
Saturday morning. Wow, what a difference a day makes. Other than the oppressive humidity, it's almost back to being liveable here in southern California. Truly, I opened up the sliding door and windows as soon as I woke up and a light breeze blew through and awakened my blah blah soul. In celebration of the fact that I didn't have to put the A/C on immediately upon waking, I found myself inspired to do something drastic: I cleaned out my walk-in closet. Now, don't faint, I didn't clean it out completely, but there's room to walk around in there now and I gave away some shoes, some handbags, some computer and sports bags, and some clothes in smaller sizes. (Even if I lose weight again, ugly is ugly and I'm not holding on to clothing mistakes of the past.) The best thing, in my opinion, is that I now have room for the things I have that fit me now and I won't have as much trouble getting ready in the morning. Yay for me. I then took the cast-offs plus the old CD bookcase and regular bookcase from upstairs (before I replaced them with my recent IKEA purchases) to Goodwill where someone wonderful can have use of these things.
Thursday morning. I suppose that after a weekend of drama, I should be glad of the blah blahs that I have now. Unfortunately, I also have a monthly all-team meeting to pull together before 2:00 p.m. today (bad Denise, stop procrastinating!) plus a visit with a local legislator for the Junior League immediately after work. Last Minute Lassie should be my new nickname because that's the way everything seems to happen around here.
Thank you to everyone that wrote messages of support for TCB. He seems to be processing through the impact of his partner's death pretty well, to be honest. There have been no emotional outbursts or wailing lamentations, but I would have been shocked if he'd gone that way because it's totally out of character for him. Still, I feel his sadness and try to be there as often as I can, even if only by phone.
There is more about the work Gloria and I are doing together to work through my eating, but I'm just too blah to even write it. Besides, I've got to go and put on a suit for my meeting tonight. (Ugh, it's going to be 86F with 65% humidity out there in El Cajon tonight...and I'm going to be in a suit. With trousers. And, of course, a jacket. Pray for me.)
Sunday night. It's been another scorcher of a day today. I got up this morning, still grumbling to myself about the heat and worrying what running the air conditioners is going to do to my electric bill. I wrote my earlier post, hoppped in the shower, and headed up to see TCB. Our tentative plan was to go to brunch and then see a movie. It didn't much matter which movie, just as long as it was air conditioned. I chatted with my BFF, Tracy, on the drive up, mostly about baseball (she's a Giants fan, I'm for the Padres), and it was nice to feel the easy way that we just "get" each other. We finished up just as I pulled up to TCB's and I clicked my phone closed. As I walked through the door, TCB said, "I've got to go to work." And that was the end of my lazy Sunday.
"I can't talk about it," he said. "I don't know how long I'll be at work," he said. I didn't panic, but I worried that he was in some sort of disciplinary trouble. "I won't be going back to Memphis this week," he said, as he shaved. (He had to be in full working uniform and that includes a fresh shave.) I knew it had to be something serious because there was an important seminar out there that he was supposed to be attending this coming week. Besides, he'd left one of his suitcases out there with a colleague who'd stayed last week, too, to attend a training that TCB didn't need - how was he going to get that back?
I dropped him off at his office and asked what I should tell the guard when I came to get him? (I don't have stickers for my car because I'm not a dependent, so they will always stop me when I try to get on base in my car without TCB.) He said to tell them he had to complete a PCR* and that they'd let me through. I thought it was some kind of wicked bad personnel review and that someone had made some stupid mistake and was blaming it on him. If only.
Six hours later, he called and said, "I can tell you now because it's official." His colleague, the one with whom he'd left his suitcase, was killed in a car crash last night in Memphis. Where TCB was last week. Where he's supposed to be this week. The colleague I'd heard so much about but only met while we were in Memphis together. TCB could have been in that car. It could have been him. As it is, his friend and colleague is gone and leaves behind a wife and three children under three years of age. TCB drove the Senior Chief and Chaplain to her house to break the bad news but he'd had to lie to her earlier when she'd called as he was completing the paperwork to ask if he'd heard from her husband because she couldn't get him to answer his cell phone. I know that bothered him a lot because he's not a man that lies and because he knew what was about to happen to her.
I couldn't help myself when he told me: I broke down completely. I had a premonition something awful was going to happen in Memphis on the day that I left. I remember sobbing quietly in the airport shuttle as we passed by the Convention Center where their conference was in progress. I thought it was about TCB and, in some sense, it was because he is mostly certainly raw with emotion right now, but I just knew something wasn't right. And you know, it really puts things in perspective.
His colleague was a man who was content and planning for retirement from the military in a few years. He had a ready laugh and a calming effect on TCB and I liked him for both of those qualities. He was alive and now he's dead and it could have been TCB. It could have been anyone, even me. Life is fragile and it's finite and we take it for granted because that's the nature of things. If we spent our lives waiting for Death to find us, we'd be wasting the incredible gift of Life, but if we don't realize that it's going to catch up with us eventually, we run the risk of not spending our time on the right priorities, of not recognizing the beauty in even the most mundane of moments.
* It was only later that TCB told me what the initials stood for: Personnel Casualty Report. And I'd thought it was something about a disciplinary hearing.
