The saga continues...

Well continuing on about my dad and his murderer. The 21 year old shot my dad on a Wednesday morning at 6:15. My dad had normally opened the store at 6:30, but the newpaper deliverer came earlier that day than usual to deliver the paper. So my dad decided to go ahead and leave the store door open, being that it was only 15 minutes until he opened anyway. The young jock came in and asked for a pack of cigs and began shooting until my dad hit the floor dead. The whole scene was captured on the store video, so there was no doubt who committed the crime. Now, it was a matter of catching the guy.

He left out of the store and ran away to a hiding place until Friday night. He escaped to a rural area outside of town where he stole a big rig and drove it into the ditch. Then he stole a tractor to try to pull the big rig out of the ditch when someone saw all the ruckus. Needless to say, he was caught. He is now serving life without the chance of ever seeing the outside world again. If he does try to appeal he will go straight to death row. It's very hard for me to have a forgiving spirit with this kind of trauma, but I CAN say my mother is a forgiving person as she had one of her ministers give my dad's Bible to his murderer. He didn't realize he had my dad's Bible until the trial, when the judge gave my mom a chance to speak. She told him about the man he'd murdered. That he would have given him the shirt off of his back, or helped him in any way. She told him he now owned his Bible. The young guy broke into tears and asked for forgiveness.

This was so hard for me (traumatic) as I was an only daughter and the baby of our family. I was a daddy's girl. He was the ONLY one in my immediate family who accepted me as I am. He never said a negative thing to me about my sexuality. I lost my best friend and advocate, forever! Somehow, I know he is looking down from heaven and seeing my happiness.

Back to "our" story...back in January, I had to have a hysterectomy and was incapacitated for a couple of months in recovery as I had complications with the surgery. I had bought a computer and thought it was a good time to try to discover the world of the internet. I had heard about Facebook and decided to join and reconnect with old school friends and family. I found I enjoyed the space and stayed on it quite a bit during this time. One day, on April 1st, I got a message from Louise. I racked my brain at first trying to remember her as I didn't recognize her last name. It threw me a curve. Then, oh my gosh, I remembered!

My heart pounded as I tried to type and answer her message. I told her I had remembered us being friends all those years ago and that I was glad to hear from her. Then our replies were passing instantly back and forth. We talked about old times and people. As time went on over the next day or so we became closer, more open. There was an excitement stirring in me once again. I wanted to get to know her more. Know what was going on in her life. Wondering what that fire was I felt when we were young.

My life for the last 8 years had been so dry, bland, and cold. I tried to make my marriage work. I tried to love my husband honestly and faithfully. I had made a commitment and was determined to fulfill this commitment til death do us part. But I was so sad and lonely. And he was not loving me as he should a wife. Not giving me affection, attention, or a sexual relationship. And my husband and I already slept in seperate rooms. Our marriage was one that had long been burnt out. We were just going through the motions of what we should do as a married couple. We had everyone fooled that we were happy, in actuality, we were far from that. I had stayed long enough trying make it work, make everyone else happy. Trying to live up to their expectations. I was ready for a change. Missing my old self, I allowed those passionate feelings to come back in when I heard from Louise. Remembering those looks we gave each other back then, I knew there was something that had happened between us that no one else but us realized. And it was hot!

More to come.....
Thelma

Thelma's Turn

(Thelma)
Well I am just about to burst to tell some of my side of this story...

I did meet Louise when I was 15. I did give her the "LOOK"! The look like I wanted to squeeze her or something? At the time I didn't understand what it was that I really wanted to do? I was so young and afraid of what I was feeling. Afraid of being disowned by my friends. I was in the least frustrated because I really wanted to act upon those feelings of desire for her that was stirring inside of me. Plus there was always someone with us and I couldn't seemed to ever get her alone.

Well, time went on and she moved away. We went in our own directions, not knowing or understanding what it was we were feeling for each other. I did finally "come out" eventually but my Louise was gone. I had dated women throughout my life and even lived with someone for close to 7 years. I got seriously injured on my job which resulted in changes in my life that sent her into the arms of someone else. I was hurt and it was over. Also, along about the same time that all of that happened my dad was murdered, shot twice in the chest and twice in the head, by a 21 year old guy who was on drugs. This devastated me.

During all of my "out" life, my mom stayed on my back constantly, saying that because I was gay, I was going to hell. The pressure got so bad that I finally gave in to her and married a guy. I was in this marriage for 8 long years. I was so unhappy and miserable. I knew this wasn't my place..my home. More to come.......

Thelma

Pigeon Forge

View from our hotel room in Pigeon Forge.


In a minute I'll start the next installment of our story, but first I have to tell you that I am missing Thelma right now. We have scarcely been apart for 5 minutes since we reconnected May 16, but right now she is out on a horseback ride with her best friend. I encouraged her to go, because I'm still a very inexperienced rider. We went on a ride at sunset last night, but I have yet to ride anywhere but on our 13 acres at Girly Ranch. I'm learning, and last night was the best ride yet. I actually got the horse into a full rack and had a very good time going fast! That was a first for me, because normally I'm terrified that I'm going to fall. I'm learning.

This morning Thelma is out with her friend, a very experienced rider, and they are scoping out a new trail, one I hope to be able to ride someday soon. But when I saw her riding away down the long gravel drive, a knot formed in my stomach. I spent 30+ years away from her, and now it hurts to be apart from her at all. I know she feels the same way. We talked about it in the wee hours of the morning, but I said, "You have to go ride. It will be so good for you!" And it will be good for the horses, too, because they are getting mighty fat (and shiny) from eating all this terrific grass in our pasture.

But I know you want to find out what happened next in our saga, right?

We planned to meet a couple of hours north of her house in the mountains, to both shave some time off my drive and to spend the weekend together in absolute privacy. After all, she was still living in the house with her own STBeX, and her mother-in-law was just dying to meet me, clueless as she was about what was coming down the pike. Thelma was already on her way out of her marriage, as was I, when we found each other again. Her MIL and husband thought that life would go on the way it was. I'll let her tell that story, though. Suffice it to say we needed some time together before dealing with that situation.

Our planned destination? Pigeon Forge, TN. Think Dollywood. Think tourist trap. I knew nothing about the place, but I knew she would be there. We talked by cell phone off and on all that day while I was driving. I plugged my iPod into the car stereo and listened to an eclectic mix of tunes, including some she had sent me during the previous 6 weeks. It made me feel connected to her.

Most of the drive flew by. I had expected to be tired and sore. I had expected the drive to be rough on me, because I hadn't driven any distance at all in the 3 years since my mother died and I got sick. Instead, I was feeling energized, free, and alive. I was feeling that rush of emotion that comes with new love, though this love had been in my heart since adolescence. As I got closer to Pigeon Forge, my pulse raced and my face felt flushed. The anticipation and excitement was about to be satisfied. While I drove those last few miles, I brushed my teeth and chewed some gum. Normally I like to freshen up before I see someone after a trip, but this freshening-up had to be on the fly!

She had found what she said was the perfect hotel room, and I was to call her when I got off at the exit. If you've never been to Pigeon Forge, though, just think of some tourist trap you've been to - the Outer Banks, for example - at high season and you will know what I faced. Stop and go traffic, endless red lights, and a seemingly interminable trip to Thelma. She told me to look for the Ruby Tuesday that was near ... something else...can't quite remember now - so I kept an eye out for that while watching out for distracted tourists (hmm, was I one of those, too?).

When I finally saw the landmarks she mentioned, I was in the center lane. I pulled a quick right turn across two lanes and saw the hotel just ahead. Hands trembling on the wheel, I pulled into the parking lot and shut off the engine. I took a deep breath and checked my face and hair in the visor mirror. Then I called Thelma and said, "I'm here!"

While I waited for her to come down to the parking lot, I unloaded the car of my things. When I heard her wolf whistle at me, I was standing there with my luggage neatly stacked beside me. Her blonde curls were tossed by the breeze as she strode over to where I was standing. She stopped about five feet from me and we took each other in. She was even more beautiful than she was at 15 years old. She had matured and grown into a gorgeous woman. She was wearing jeans and a romantic lace-up shirt. She had on a fancy Western belt and hot little cowboy boots. Her jewelry, hair, and make-up were perfect, and she was smiling at me as bright as the sun. I hoped that I - in my jeans, black t-shirt, and sneakers; 7 1/2 hours of road weariness on me - was not a disappointment to her. I smiled and say, "Hey you."

She looked at me and said, "Get over here, woman - right now!"

We moved into each other's arms and hugged as tightly as I have ever hugged or been hugged by anyone. Our bodies touched from head to toe, and I buried my face in her sweet-smelling hair. "I've missed you...it's so good to see you finally," I said.

That was the best moment of my life (aside from the birth of my children). When I finally pulled back from her and looked her full in the face, I saw that she was just as enamored of me as I was of her. We had had six weeks of reconnecting and courting over the phone and computer, but standing in front of her, I felt all the intervening years and miles fall away. She grabbed some of my luggage and together we headed inside.

Once the elevator door closed, I leaned toward her and kissed her. I waited my whole life for my lips to touch hers, and I wouldn't wait any longer. When I pulled away, we were both smiling. We didn't just have fireworks between us - we had nuclear fission! My heart had known all along that she was the great love of my life, and now the rest of me knew it, too.

We exited the elevator on the 6th floor and went to room 623.

The room was large with a king-sized bed, a jacuzzi tub in the room, and a balcony that overlooked a stream. It was perfect, and there were long-stemmed red roses waiting for me. We dropped my things just inside and I took her face in my hands. I wanted another of those incredible kisses.

Before the day was up, we knew we would need an extra night. We had planned for one, but we knew it would be at least two days before we could face other people with any kind of discretion or propriety. She called and arranged for the care of her horses and for an extra night in what we began to think of as our room. (We plan to spend our anniversary there next year - and hopefully every year after that).

Fortunately she had stocked the room with fruit, snacks, and water. Though we weren't hungry, we had to stay hydrated :-) Our time together was incredible, indescribable (and not something I wish to divulge!). Let's just say that after Pigeon Forge, our lives would be forever changed. Neither of us wished to go back in "the closet" or continue with life as we previously knew it. We decided then and there that we would be together, whatever it took.

More of our story to come later....L

And then it all began...

(A continuation of Timing is Everything...)
After I got the email that broke the dam wide open, I just had to get through what I had to get through for my daughter's death. Thelma was there for me every step of the way, from the moment I told her that my daughter had died right up until now. The last two days have been very, very difficult. It's been three months since my girl died, and it's been weighing heavily on me. When I catch myself feeling happy and content, I start to think about how my daughter will never have that again in this world. She'll never go tubing down the river. She'll never meet Thelma. She'll never get on one of our horses. And then the tears come and I feel like I can't breathe.

We were supposed to be having fun last night at a July 4th party, and I ended up going back to the car and having myself a cry. I ended up crying so hard on the way home that my shoulders, chest, and back ached. Coming off this long-acting pain medication is hard, too, but I feel like I'm in the perfect storm sometimes. Yes, overall I'm happy, but I'm also going through a lot of crap.

But back to the story. Over the days beyond the memorial service, Thelma and I became inseparable, at least online. We were either on the phone, on Facebook chat or sending emails and music back and forth. We began getting to know one another again, because things had changed so much since high school. We'd each had full lives that spanned the spectrum from joy to pain and everything in between.

We started talking about getting together in June in Maryland. I was planning to get her a room at a very nice hotel down the street from me. I had cats at the house, plus the STBeX was still living there, so her staying at my house wasn't possible. She was going to fly or drive in the second week of June.

Then I began to feel that I couldn't wait to see her. I know she felt the same way. So I asked her whether it would be possible for me to come see her in late May. As I expected, she was overjoyed! I began searching for good rates on a flight and settled on one for the Memorial Day weekend. I would be there for 5 days, and she reserved a room in the city for the first two nights I'd be in town. We knew we'd need that time to get to know each other again and express how we were feeling. She reserved a very, very nice room, and we were both looking forward to being together.

The longer we talked, though, the more we knew 5 days together wasn't going to be enough. She wanted to take me horseback riding and to the river, and all the things we ended up doing together. I decided to extend the trip, flying in the week before and working part of the time I was to be there. It isn't that I wanted to work, but I had used a lot of time off around my daughter's death.

As the trip neared, I would give her daily updates, counting down from 30 days... "28 days and a wake-up," I'd say. It seemed interminable.

One Thursday I was out walking my bulldogs and thought, "I just want to get in the car and GO." It occurred to me that I could just go on Saturday...a full 5 days early. I called Thelma and said, "What would you think about me coming down there early? Driving, instead of flying?"

The response was a resounding YES! I went into high gear, packing and prepping everything for the trip. I'd be with her for two weeks, extended from 5 then 10 days. The closer the trip got, the less I felt that I ever wanted to come back to what I was now thinking of as my old life. I knew I needed to get away, to think about something besides my daughter's death and all of the reminders, but it was much, much more than that. I was in love. I had loved Thelma since high school and never gave up on finding her. Now that I had her in my sights, I knew I'd never let go. I'd never give up until we were together. Having her back in my life made getting up in the morning easier. It made life worth living.

Saturday morning came and I put on the coffee. I had barely slept and had a long drive ahead of me, but I scarcely felt the fatigue. All I knew was that in a matter of hours I'd be meeting her at a hotel in the Tennessee mountains. I'd be seeing her again for the first time in 30 years. I hoped she would like what she saw....

Until next time, L

Timing is Everything

(Louise, the prolific)

Had I found Thelma any sooner, I might not have been strong enough or determined enough to make that move in the right direction. As it was, I had spent the last year of my life getting "sober" from codependency. My daughter had problems, and we seemed to feed off of each other - with me always picking up the pieces for her when she drove her life into the ditch. I was also very codependent with my STBeX (soon-to-be-ex) husband, always enabling him not to be very responsible as the "provider" for the family. Many times, I was the one who had to go out and find work. I was good at it, though, always succeeding at whatever I set my mind to. Lucky for us, I could do that. Not so lucky for my kids, as their mom was usually traveling.

That year of recovery allowed me to see clearly what was mine and what was my daughter's or my STBeX's or God's. It allowed me to get out of my own way. It let me off the hook for the troubles of the world.

April 1st, I wrote to Thelma on both Classmates (which I hadn't found her on before then) and Facebook, hoping she'd remember me and write back. In my mind, she had moved on and wouldn't have a clue as to who I was. While I had spent the last 30 years thinking about her, I was sure she had never given a second thought to me.

Before the day was out, she had written back to me, twice in a row. In the first one, she seemed a little unclear about who I was, and then it was like a shock of recognition went through her. Within that one day, our notes to each other started flying back and forth minutes apart -- this was before I learned how to use chat on Facebook. Though we have erased all those messages for our own protection while we extricate ourselves from bad situations, they are forever etched in my mind. They went from friendly, long messages catching each other up on some things that have gone on since high school to a whole different tone a couple of days later.

April 3rd at noon (for anyone reading this who didn't already know), my ultimate nightmare came true. The police showed up at my door to tell me that my daughter was found dead at the home of a friend. After 8 weeks of red tape and toxicology tests, it was determined that she died of a fatal mixture of two common prescription drugs: Oxycontin and generic Ambien. If I put more details here, the ex might be able to find me through a search, so I won't. I'll just say that my life was forever changed that day. I still have moments of feeling like my guts are being torn out by a wild rhinoceros, like I may not survive my next breath from the absolute pain of the loss. I still have moments of disbelief that I'll never see my daughter again.

When I went to bed the previous night (a Thursday - and my daughter was a Thursday's child), my daughter was already gone, though I didn't know it yet. The next time I sent a message to Thelma, I had to tell her the horrible news. I think it was late Friday night when I wrote her. This was after I had made all the required telephone calls, gone to the funeral home, and fallen apart completely.

She was there for me in a way no one else was. My sister made plans to fly into town, and I really wanted Thelma, too, but I dared not say that. After all, I didn't yet know the full story. She was married. I didn't know how happily or unhappily she was married. Before the police came to my door that Friday, I had probed a little deeper into her life, asking about the years I'd missed - the years before she was married in 2001. The death of my daughter stopped us both in our tracks, however. It seemed like it would be inappropriate for me to ask for her to come to see me during all of the hell I was going through. But the most comfort I got from the STBeX was a pat on my shoulder. At least my son and I have a good relationship and we were of comfort to each other.

While I was dealing with the tragedy, an influx of family members, and endless planning for the memorial service, Thelma was at her mother's house for Easter. Little did I know, she was running about all the local towns looking for just the right gift to send to me. She was also immersed in my other blog, reading me and learning me.

A week after the memorial service, when everyone had gone home, I got a package in the mail. She and I had been talking on the phone by that point, and she asked me to please open it alone.

I went off to my room and pulled the shades. I was still crying my eyes out on a regular basis at that point, and my eyes felt red and raw. Just that afternoon, I'd had it out with the woman I had considered my best friend for years. She had come into town and made a jerk of herself, angry because I wouldn't go out and get a mani/pedi with her or take her out to eat. She seemed oblivious to the fact I'd lost my child only a week before.

In my room, I felt safe and secure. The world was outside that door, staying away.

I cut the tape off the box and peeled back the tissue paper. Inside I found a beautiful music box with an angel on top. The frame was gilded and the music was "How Great Thou Art". Tears slid down my face. It was the perfect place to put my silver pendant that held my daughter's ashes. She couldn't have known that I was conflicted about where to put that very special pendant. The music box was right on.

She also sent a card and a daily prayer book with the box, something else to show me how much she was thinking of me and missing me. Now that we were back in touch, we were hungry for each other's company. She had found the perfect way to tell me how much she felt my grief. I completely understood when I opened the box that she loved me. I no longer had to wonder how she felt then or now.

In the interim, while I was dealing with the planning of the memorial service, Thelma had responded to one of my FB emails in which I pried a little more into her past. I wanted to know if it was true that she had run off with one of our friends and if she knew anything about me. The response I got was a private email with the subject, "Yes". In her message, she said, "The answer is yes," that she had lived among women and had been out for many years BUT she did not "run off" with one of our friends. She moved away to the big city alone at age 17 and lived her life "out".

Life threw her too many curves at one time, however, in the 1990s and in 2000, and she ran back in the closet, succumbing to pressure from all sides.

The dam broke with that message because though it took me a few days to get back to her, I felt I had an opening to talk to her, and when the time was right, I did.

See you next time, L.

From the Beginning

That's me - bottom right.
That's her - top center.
Circa 1978.

Post of the Day at Authorblog!

(Louise)

There's a story here, and you know I'm one to tell it. I can't resist telling a good story, particularly a terribly romantic one.

I was between 9th and 10th grade when my parents announced we were moving from our big city home in Texas to a small town in Georgia. Horrified, I threatened to tie myself to a tree, to run away, or to join the circus - anything to avoid moving back to the sleepy little farm town my parents came from. Sure, we went there every year for several weeks in the summer, and during that time I would hang with my country cousins, fishing, playing softball in a field dotted with cow patties, and learning how to drive the golf cart my cousins zipped around the farm in.

That was all nice - for a few weeks - but my friends were all in the city. Every weekend, they were at my house or I was at theirs. Several of us girls hung out together on a regular basis like that, and I couldn't imagine all of it coming to an end.

Yet come to an end it did. That August we packed up everything and left the city. A wire art sculpture I had worked on for many hours went spinning out from beneath the soft-sided luggage cover on the roof and landed in the road behind us. Dad refused to turn around and go retrieve it (he never turned around - ever), so I watched helplessly as another car ran it over. It flew up into the air and came back to Earth with a crash, bent and disfigured.

Once we arrived in the deep south, life really changed. Things were more tense than ever between my parents because the money was gone. You see the reason for the move was that Dad was sick with cancer and was given about six months to live. He wanted to be back "home", near his mother and his brothers. His run as a big time general contractor was over as soon as he had that first surgery. We were living on very little money and that seemed to make things a lot worse.

My first day at school was a strange one. In the city we always dressed in our finest for the first day of school, but at school in that small town, things were different. Day one was the same as every other day - jeans and t-shirts or jeans and flannel shirts. These were farm kids, rural kids, who didn't dress up - period - unless it was for a school dance or church. Maybe that's not fair...some did dress up from time to time, but on that first day, I felt like a spectacle. I showed up in a black jumpsuit with high heels and a silver ring belt. I had on a silver necklace that looked like an inverted pyramid and silver earrings. For the first day of school in the city I would have been fabulous. In the country? I stood out like a sore thumb.

One of the classes I had to take was World Geography, a 9th grade class that was required and that had not been required at my last school. So in I walked to that first period class on the 9th grade hallway, decked out in my city clothes. One girl, by the end of class, asked bluntly if I was a "ho"! LOL!

It was on that day or one that followed when I first saw "Thelma". She was wearing what everyone else wore, the style I had not yet acquired, and looked up at me. We locked eyes. She would soon become one of my closest friends, a girl I would hang out with as often as I had with the girls in Texas, but she was different. There was something about that intense gaze of hers that shot right through me. I remember returning that gaze on a regular basis, especially during those sleepovers (in which we were NEVER alone....). There was a deep connection between us. She was not my first girl crush, but she certainly made the biggest impression.

I left that school halfway through my junior year because of something bad that happened to me in that town. I never told her why I left, and we lost touch over time. I never forgot her, though.

When I returned to town to see my mother in 1984, with my (ex)husband and little girl (who was 5 1/2 months old at the time), Mom told me that Thelma was gay and that she had moved to a big city with one of our mutual friends. My jaw dropped and I blurted out, "Why not me? What was wrong with me?"

I know that shocked my mother, but she got it. She understood. She had seen us together. My husband was likewise not shocked, because he swore he always knew that about me. But the fact remained that Thelma was gone - with another woman - and I was married with a child.

Over the years, I thought about her a lot. When times were really bad, it was her face I held in my mind, her intense gaze. I hoped I would see her again someday, and I always wondered where she was and what she might be doing.

(There's some stuff I'm going to skip here because it's quite personal to her, and I'll let her tell that part...)

About 6 years or so ago, I began doing internet searches on her name and trying to locate her. I kept coming up empty. She was nowhere to be found. I wondered if she was even still alive, because well, you never know.

And then in March, a mutual friend of ours contacted me through Classmates and MySpace. One of the first questions I had for him was, "Have you seen or heard from Thelma?" He said he had not and that she had not been at the high school reunion he had attended some years before. My heart sank, but I refused to give up.

I joined Facebook in late March, and after hearing from our mutual friend, I thought, "I haven't searched for her there yet..." and I did it.

BOOM - there she was, but she was MARRIED!!!

My heart sank again. I thought, "Well, I at least have to contact her and see...What if there was something there for her, too?"

I'll tell more of this story next time. She's ailing tonight and I'm being selfish, sitting here typing to you. Next post maybe I can tell you that she's better and can swallow without feeling like there's fire in it.

Peace - L