Kate... uncensored

Song

A very talented friend of mine sent me a song a couple months ago.

It doesn't belong to me, he didn't write it for me, but it touched me.

I listen to it often, as I've wound it into my normal listening.

It sticks in my brain, playing over and over... a song for a woman who has been breaking him.

It dawns on me; I'm the singer, never the muse. 

I'm just not the kind of woman anyone writes songs about.

I'm sorry

I'm sorry, husband, that I couldn't figure out a way to continue to try and hold it all together.  That I couldn't let being your caretaker be sufficient.  That I married you when maybe we didn't love each other enough.  That I was too young and stubborn to recognize problems sooner.  That I blamed sex, infertility, finances, cancer, job woes and other interference for all the things that were actually wrong with us.  That you carried the weight of thinking you were a failure as a man.  That I wasn't the wife you needed. 

I'm sorry, Dad, that I can't explain it better.  That you're disappointed I ended up in some situation where I felt dependent and trapped.  That I've let you down so, so many times.  That you're the one listening to me cry on some random afternoon.  That I can't be all the things you wanted and hoped  for.  That the Katie you know and remember and love has gotten bitter and angry.  That I am not the beaming example of a perfect daughter. 

I'm sorry, Mom, for keeping everything so private when you first saw the signs I was in pain.  That I didn't reach out to you, even though you were there.  That I kept so much of myself from you because I thought there was no way you'd understand.  That I'm not as strong and resilient as you are.  That I can't live up to the example you set.

I'm sorry, N, that you think I'm cruel and heartless.  That you think I've abandoned this man, this friend that you've known since I was in diapers.

I'm sorry, D, that I lean on you.  That I can give you all the advice, but not take any of my own. 

I'm sorry, brother, that you have to lose your connection to him;  That you feel you have to choose.

I'm sorry, J, that you haven't gotten to see what I'm like when I'm not in the middle of this chaos.

I'm sorry, Kate, that you aren't stronger to withstand this exit with grace.  That you still weep silently.  That all the little things you have to do to leave are so much harder than you expected.   That you feel like a fool when your father tells you he doesn't think you and your husband ever loved each other the way people should when they walk down the aisle.   That you've had to question everything.  That you've not gotten more than a handful of hours of sleep over the last week.   That you feel like a failure.

That I didn't love you enough then to realize that he didn't love you enough. 

I'm sorry.

Dear John

I remember meeting him just before school started.  Late in the afternoon, as I sat behind a switchboard, he strode up to my desk and extended his hand.  I rose out of my chair to find myself at chest height.  He wanted to introduce himself knowing I'd be his "help" for the year.

Meeting while I was in school - obviously not the best situation.  He is eleven years my senior.  He worked for the school, so we both knew it was not to be.  Still, we were close.  Closer than we should have been given the circumstances.  I helped him survive his first year in the education world.  He was supportive of everything I was going through at home.

He became the standard I measured all other men by, in some ways he probably still is.  He was kind and funny and charming; encouraging and affectionate and loving.  There was a sweet tenderness in the way he spoke to me.  There was a melody to his walk.  As long as I live, I'd recognize both the sound of his voice and the cadence of his steps.

We had a couple of moments over the years where "what if" was played.  What if we met differently, what if I was older, what if he waited, and so on.  He's now married with two children.  Actually just this year he went back to the school where we met.  He had left shortly after I did.

The second last time I saw him was in the hospital after he had emergency surgery.  While still somewhat drugged he told me that he's always loved me and wanted to be able to make a life for me.  I dismissed it as the anesthetic talking.  However, after that exchange his wife became very cold to me. (We had been friendly before, having made our peace with our situations)

I can only guess that he said something to her about me while hopped up on the meds.  Because she'd be curt on the phone and leave quickly if we ran into one another.   I saw them briefly at my sister's high school graduation.   They were invited to my wedding but didn't come.  He was still kind of dealing with medical issues then and that was their excuse.  I haven't talked to him since, but he stays in close contact with my dad - who volunteers for that school.

Sometimes I wonder, what would life have been like had we ended up together.  I'm not sure it ever would have worked, since you can never know unless you try.  Back then, I think he felt too responsible to act on his feelings, knowing I was younger, vulnerable, inexperienced.  I know he thought he was "doing the right thing". 

Sometimes, I wonder about a different future.  If life brought us both to be single at the same time.  He's probably the one person who could show up at my door and get me to leave with him, no questions asked.  I'm aware how dramatic that sounds but no one before ever made me feel like that, and very few since. He understood my thoughts before I could think them.  He taught me so much.  He loved me before I ever learned to love myself - and it was only because of him that I could do that.

His birthday is today - October 8th. (Actually I know two fantastic and gorgeous men born on this day.  Coincidence? I think not) 

I've thought of calling,  just to see how he really is.  (Yes, I know what you're thinking) I think of him often.  He was a huge part of my life for almost a decade and then he wasn't. Since there's only a small chance I'll actually call, I'll just wish him a happy birthday from here, and pray his life is full of all the best things he could hope for.

Mr. Russert is gone

My father was friends with him. Not close talk weekly friends, but catch up over lunch when he was in town friends.

I remember meeting him when I was seven or eight. He was always Mr. Russert to me.

My father has always been proud to call him a friend. Fondest memory of him? After a book signing in Buffalo, he and his father went out with my siblings, my father and I.

He was a champion of Buffalo.
He was a remarkable man.
He will be missed.

Still up (I get wordy at this hour)

Yep, it's three in the morning, and I'm still awake.

And, for some god-forsaken reason, watching Next on MTV. Don't ask. I don't know. I feel about eighty years older than these kids on the show.

I'm questioning my actions and my behavior lately. The homesickness is rearing it's ugly head again. I'm missing my family, my friends, my old neighbors & neighborhood haunts, the other, even my therapist.

This life here in Nashville still seems so foreign. I've tried reaching out to make friends, but I haven't had too much success. While I've always done well charming acquaintances, it's harder to make friends. (I'm not saying life-long pour your heart out friends although I don't have one) I mean meet for coffee / lunch or hit amovie together friends.

My mother has always thought my expectations of friends is too high. I expect a friend to be the kind of friend I am. I feel like the best kind of friend when I'm helping you throw a party, or watching your kids, or bringing food when someone close to you passes away. But, this means I attract needy friends sometimes, because I need to be needed.   

And, it's hard for me to let people in. Most people know the 'glossy Kate'. The first man I love coined it because I'm good at glossing over. I hold it in, show the world the pretty picture, and only let it go with those I trust.

For example: Obvious one here, my marriage. No one would question the strength of our relationship, because I'm skilled at making it look good. Would our family and friends know we sleep in different beds or at different times? Would they guess we haven't had sex in years? Would they think the happiest time in our marriage was when we were in two different cities? Nope.

I've glossed over this, and infertility treatments, miscarriages, adoption heartbreak, cancer diagnosis, chemo, Roscoe's retirement. I'm always fine.

Perhaps sharing a little of what's beneath the glossy surface would help me in the quest for a friend. Then again, maybe I just need to wait for people who get me, like I had at home.

Halloween

Went to a party tonight. Husband elected not to go.

Had fun. Real fun.

Dressed up, no one knew me except the hosts. No probing questions about my health. I thought I looked cute, I felt like the life of the party.

I don't know them well, but they took me around, introducing me. I was dancing, singing, laughing.

I kissed Batman.

Turns out he's an EMT/asst. fire chief over in Amherst. I took his number, but I won't call. I've been trying to be on my best behavior. Even though I've never had a fireman...

A cop named Bill

Weirdness.

Had coffee at Tim Horton's today with a cop. A cop named Bill.

Anyone who knew me prior to my husband, knows the running joke. My father had some dream when I was barely a teenager about me marrying a cop named Bill. It was a recurring dream, and he was convinced, some weird premonition. Always joked about it.

Monday, at the Gilda's club award luncheon, I wasn't feeling well. My mom ended up having to go into work, so I went alone. I was seated with a detective who was getting one of the other awards, and his lieutenant. They were both friendly and sweet, cheered me on because they knew no one was there for me. I walked out with several others, and the change from air-conditioning to heat must have really hit me, because I passed out in front of the restaurant. I was mortified. The cops were kind enough to take me home.

Got a call yesterday from the Lieutenant. Said his name and I couldn't place it. Then it clicked, he just wanted to see how I was feeling. We ended up talking for three hours. I didn't know what to think. It was wonderful to have someone listening to me, and really paying attention to what I had to say. Offering their perspective, but not too much advice. Right before we hung up, I thanked him, both for checking in on me, and for listening to me. I said "take care" and was ready for the goodbye part when he fumbled in with an invitation to have coffee.

Chemo kills cancer cells, but it's also killed friendships. I haven't just been out for coffee with a friend in forever, so I said yes.

It was just coffee, and I didn't think of it as more than that. Until I got there.

He was there first, and got the drinks. I made a joke about that, since everyone knows cops, EMT's and firefighters get it for free. After that, we just kept talking. He drove me home since it was dark by the time we left & he didn't think I should walk. Actually, we left because they were closing the place.

He was kind and sweet, funny in that weird way I appreciate. He complimented me and laughed at my jokes and my commentary of the other Timmy Ho's patrons.  He is attractive. Okay, fine, he is hot, so out of my league hot. Hot in a police calendar kinda way. So much so that I got flustered when I looked him in the eye. He opened the door for me. Do you know how long it's been since that happened?

I know it's just me feeling frustrated and neglected.  But this was one of the best times I've had in recent history.

Yessir

Took the kids to the park. I still think it's cool I get to be with them, even if it hurts when people think they're mine.

Talked with the guy who lives across the street.

He's a Navy seal. I had heard that from my friends, and had waved to him a few times, but hadn't met him. His youngest comes over to play sometimes, and I said I didn't mind, so my friends didn't send him home when I got there.

I returned him after the park, and the kids ran into the backyard to play on the swing set.

We sat on the deck with the baby. He assumed I might not want to be in the sunshine, being so fair...

I think I swooned.

He is fascinating. He's had such an interesting life and tells great stories. Curses worse than my mother, which is tough. I was glad the kids were close enough to watch, but not enough to hear.

When it was time to put the kids down, I left and headed back. With everyone asleep, I admit, I was sitting on the front stoop.  His oldest had the younger ones entertained. For some reason I was more talkative than usual, spilling secrets of what's going on at home. Things none of our friends and family know. He listened, although, being a rather masculine male, felt the need to heckle my husband just a bit.

When I went in, I watched him walk across the street. Damn.

My phone has his number in it. Pretty ballsy on his part. I don't know if it was when I was on his deck & changed the baby, or on the stoop and I didn't notice.

I didn't delete it. 

Sad face

Today was one of those days when you have a half a dozen invitations. Every other weekend, we try to find something to do, and often do nothing. We have an invitation to an uncle's surprise party, a random graduation party, a family reunion picnic and more.

But, we were thinking of heading up to Toronto to see an online friend of mine who's visiting family there. She's in TX, so we've never met, but she's been my biggest and best supporter throughout all that we've been through. Well, being that it's a visit for a cousin's wedding, their weekend is pretty booked. Add to that a festival weekend in Ontario and a long wait at the border, we decided it wasn't going to work out. So, obviously, I'm sad. She has been a big part of my life for a few years now and I was excited to meet her, her husband and her darling son. If she sees this, I promise, we'll try again.

Christening, check

So, I did go to the christening. I tried to find a convenient excuse; I was dragging my heels, but I went. There was no way around it really. We had declined numerous times on previous occasions.

Christmas party where baby # 3 was weeks old, baby # 3's christening, housewarming where the friend's wife was 8 months pregnant with # 4, Christmas party where baby # 4 was weeks old. So, I knew this may have been the last invitation extended our way. We went in and walked around, trying to find a familiar face. I doubted that there would be anyone their I knew and that didn't help my reluctance to be there. It's always hard to be married to a blind man at his friends parties. People don't always come to him and he can't really point people out. So, I sometimes am forced to do a desperate attempt at conversation with people he may or may not know. From the time he sat down, he kept asking if I was okay.

Anyway, I really talked to no one but the friend and his wife. The other women in the room all had kids with them and it left me a little tongue tied. I am one of those people who can usually speak to anyone. However, I couldn't find a way around, "do you have kids?" I thought since the baby was 5.5 months that he'd be the youngest one there. He wasn't and numerous other party guests had infants younger. I was surprised at how well I did. I desperately wanted to hold the baby, but was afraid to ask. She didn't offer, probably because I was being weird that afternoon.

I went, I saw, I retreated.

My husband told me he was proud of me. By the time we walked out the door I could hardly breathe. I was glad for the rain and the thunder because it made it easier to let the sobs out and the tears down.