Duck, Duck, Goose :: Death, Death, Life
Posted by metavurt under General | Permalink | | Leave A Comment
And so it begins. First, let me state that yes, I will try to post consistently – but whether that will be every other day, daily during the week, or once each week on every Saturday or Sunday, I really do not know at this time. Once I get my bearings, then consistency will be more attainable.
I am writing now, watching the birth of the con trail out my window from seat 25A, on a plane flying south to Mexico City, where apparently it’s a little crazy in the airport. That’s ok. I’m crazy too; I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine. For an hour or so.
Today is a life marker day for me. And it is not solely for this particular day, in 2009, that it has become such a marker for me. “Beware the Ides of March” they said…. and indeed, in my life, that phrase holds particular weight. For those that aren’t aware, I will now explain. Get cozy, grab your favorite beverage, and read on, my friend.
Until 2004, March 20th was just another day in the year. It was a day in March. It was randomly either gorgeous or hideous in Chicago – pick your year! But in 2004, all that changed.
It was early afternoon and I was sitting at a small round table at the Starbucks at Clark and Deming – the sun was peeking in, I was on my laptop, doing whatever it was I did, and waiting for Angie, my wife at the time, to meet me there and we were going to get crepes down the street. It was a Saturday, and it being a nice spring day, knew to take full advantage of it.
But my phone rang, early afternoon ish – but it was a number I didn’t recognize – so Standard Billy Operating Procedure™ was “Ignore ON”. But then there was voicemail. So I listened, and it was a family friend, someone I didn’t know, leaving me a vague, slightly cryptic message with the words “Billy, something’s happened to your mom. You need to call us back, we’re with your dad.”
*crap*
Mom had already had some really weird accidents in the past couple years – she had fallen twice, at different times, and ended up breaking one wrist, and then the other. My first thought was that something had happened again, that she’d had complications during one of the times they needed to go in and remove the pins, maybe a reaction to some anesthesia…. SOMETHING. I had no clue.
I called, got the family friend, then got dad, and basically it was “get down here asap” – meaning, get a flight to Dallas. Pronto. [remember, that’s “prawn-toe” in Texanese]
I pinged Angie, she was on a bus, almost to where I was, and I began searching online for flights. We found one, hauled ass home, quickly packed, went to O’Hare, made it to Dallas that night.
I will now refer to mom as Helen – you will understand why later.
And we found that Helen had been murdered of an apparent robbery.
And so began a period of my life that I think I’ll start referring to as “My Life as the Universe Happy Fun Ball Toy”.
I will cut to the chase, because if I went into detail, you’d be reading for the rest of the week. And I’d still be typing, in a car, from Oaxaca to Tlacolula de Matamoros. Not a bright idea.
What occurred on March 20, 2004, is that dad murdered Helen. It is a long story. But needless to say, the final decision, the irreparable action that was taken, is that he murdered Helen.
And now I must back up in order to explain the next part of the story.
The person who I called mom for most of my life, Helen, was actually my step-mom. But I met her in 1974 , when I was four, and she and dad were married in 1975. I was the ring bearer at their wedding. Yes I was super cute. I think I was bait. As a side note, I knew Helen was cool when I met her because she had Wonder Woman on in her apartment when we went to see her one night. That was awesome. For dinner she had cooked broccoli and I hated everything green at the time and dad caught me trying to flush mouthfuls of broccoli down the toilet and I was banished to the bedroom without dessert. That was NOT awesome.
All that being said, the person I grew up respecting and loving as my mom was Helen. However, like I said, she was my step-mom, sooooo…
My biological mom is Kathy. I really do not have all sides of the story, so I’m not going to go into it here, but the conclusion is that she and dad were no longer married or in the very least separated when I was two or three. She DID however, have visitation rights to me, and the permission for those rights was placed under my jurisdiction, even at age 5. I kid you not. It was made explicitly clear to me by dad, that it was up to me whether or not I saw her. And I did till I was 11 or 12.
I stopped the visitations because unfortunately I felt I was being pulled in two opposing directions, and I had to chose one of those directions. To say the choice and the following action was difficult is a severe understatement, but it insured me keeping my sanity. And so, my communication with Kathy was disconnected.
She checked on me at age 18 to see if I would open the door, and I wasn’t ready yet.
Several years went by, seeing me travel the world, ending up in Chicago for school, not really attending class as a student should, and therefore getting kicked out of school. But I love the city of Chicago – it has my soul – and so I stayed, got an apartment, and thereby “showed up on the grid” under my birth name, which, to be frank, no one really knew in Chicago. They always knew me by Billy, and that was really it.
Again, cutting so much detail out – Kathy found me again in Chicago – it was 1995. And she wanted to be my mom again, wanted desperately to be a part of my life. And again, I just wasn’t ready. It was an emotional well that I had kept closed, locked shut, inaccessible for so many years, that I knew to maintain a level head through it all I would need every ounce of my energy and resources. And so, very unfortunately, I just did not have the capability to do that at that time. I knew she’d be able to find me as long as my name was on things like rent, electricity, etc, and so I moved, became a roommate of someone who the rent was under their name, changed numbers, became unlisted, and disappeared.
I never heard from her again. And although I know people’s decisions are their own, I do believe one person’s decision can greatly inspire or motivate or influence another’s. And I regret that one I made in the summer of 1995 to this day.
So – summary so far: Kathy is my biological mom, hadn’t heard from her since 1995. Helen is the mom I grew up with, she was murdered by dad March 20, 2004.
Here’s the kicker: dad didn’t admit to it until he was found guilty in his trial. He was freely roaming until two weeks after the murder, when he was arrested and incarcerated and kept until the trial.
Two days after his arrest, we are back in Chicago, and my phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but now, because of all circumstances, I MUST answer the phone. And I do. And the male voice on the end says “is this Billy, Kathy’s son?” Immediately I know this is either a person from my far past, maybe even back to elementary school, or someone in dad’s past, or someone at the church in Dallas who knew more than the average schmoe. With a guarded easiness I answer “yes” – and here’s how the conversation went:
Male Voice: “Well, Billy, this is your Uncle Phil”
Me: [thinking] I don’t have an uncle Phil…. [aloud] I’m sorry, who?
Phil: I’m your Uncle Phil, I’m one of Kathy’s brothers. [pause]
Me: [thinking] Helllooooooooo Uncle Phil. Who the hell are you? [aloud] Well, um, hi, uncle Phil?
Phil: I saw you at your dad’s trial – I don’t know if you saw me, but I was sitting in the back with the sunglasses on.
Me: Um… oh… ok… um, well, hi, how are you?
Phil: [hesitant chuckle] I’m ok, but um…. I’ve gotta tell you something – and I know what you’ve been going through, but I can’t wait any longer to tell you.
Me: ok….
Phil: Do you know where your mom is? Where Kathy is?
Me: Well, last I knew, she was living in Florida with her partner and adopted daughter.
Phil: Yes, yes she was.
Me: Ok…. where is she now?
Phil: [slowly] I hate to tell you this, but Billy….. she committed suicide in 1996. And it’s weird, Billy. She did that on March 20th.
Me: [universe tilting] :: silence ::
Phil: Ok? I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I had to tell you before it got too late
Me: Yeah, ok. I understand. Thank you. I’m gonna…. I’m gonna have to figure this out.
[conversation ended soon thereafter, but on good note, for what it was]
And so, yes. March 20th is the date that I’ve lost both of my moms, to tragic circumstances, eight years apart, but only learned and knew about two weeks apart. And no, dad had no clue – none of us knew Kathy had committed suicide eight years prior.
Needless to say, my universe was tilted, I was at a serious set of crossroads, and my ass really, really, really hurt. It is never that much fun to be beat down upon by forces greater than you. It is definitely worse than being rolled down the highschool hallway in a bass drum case because you refused to say “Seniors are #1!” and instead chose to say “Freshman are #1!” Yeah…… I was that smart.
As I continue to live, blessed by days, weeks, and years being added to my life, the waves of turmoil have settled to ripples, no longer eroding the edges of my sanity. In fact, new growth has started once again, clearly defining the boundaries of my being, making all more solid the distinction between myself and the world around me. I no longer am feeling pulled, prodded, poked and pressed in ways I don’t enjoy. I am feeling myself again, my old old self, the one from ages ago where optimism was the mood du jour, every day, and where controlling things was unnecessary.
When I discovered I would be leaving for Mexico on March 20th, it made perfect sense to me, my sister, and those close to me. It is a marker date. It has weight. And now, that weight is shifted, towards a more positive outcome, a brighter forecast, and a smile on my face.
Just as many of us played Duck, Duck, Goose as kids and Goose was “it” (but being Goose was oh so much fun, oh yes indeed), the universe, the God I believe in, the forces of nature, whatever you choose to call it – the point being – “That Which We Are Not In Control Of” has played Death, Death, Life with me – and this time, THIS TIME,
FINALLY,
3rd times the charm,
holy frack, Holy Cowwww!,
THIS TIME, I’M IT.
I have Life.
