I was just trying not to believe that it was really happening. The life that I had known for years could not end so quickly, could it? It was mid-September and I had nowhere to go.
A meteor had come crashing down upon the life I had known, obliterating everything.
I kept thinking about how everything had been so right and normal yesterday – not literally yesterday but that’s how it felt.
Then everything changed and I had not seen it coming. I would have done something surely if I had seen danger ahead or if I had known that life would become so extremely challenging.
It wasn't long after Lynn first stated that she might not come back to me. How could this be? I NEVER imagined a life without her. I also had not foreseen the problems I was having in my career. Who would believe that some fraudster - John Freifeld - would be able to do anything to hurt me or my career and reputation with my clients?
No one who had not come in contact with Freifeld was complaining about my competency or performance as a psychotherapist. I did have problems and had noticed over the past month and a half I had not been myself or at my best. It didn't seem that anyone actually noticed that I could not still provide psychotherapy for them.
People were still calling me for appointments, but I had to close down my private practice.
The fact that there were grievances at all made me think that I better put all therapy sessions on hold for a while. I didn't know where to turn for help though. It had been a few months since I had an appointment with any of my previous therapists.
I then heard from Diane, Lynn's mother, that she was planning to sell the house she had bought for Lynn and me to rent.
I had to move out of our home.
It seemed like just a few weeks ago everything was perfect in my life and in the lives of Lynn and me. But it also seemed like it was during another lifetime. How can things fall apart so fast?
My mind went to that song by Don Henley called "New York Minute." It was just the first week of September of 2000. The lyrics went through my mind.
"He had a home The love of a girl But men get lost sometimes As years unfurl One day he crossed some line And he was too much in this world But I guess it doesn't matter anymore"
And then Don Henley sings
"If you find somebody to love in this world You better hang on tooth and nail."
I had tried so hard to hold onto Lynn!
Then Don Henley says
"And in these days When darkness falls early And people rush home To the ones they love You better take a fool's advice And take care of your own 'Cause one day they're here; Next day they're gone"
Darkness was all I knew now.
And finally, the most poignant lines from the song read
"I pulled my coat around my shoulders And took a walk down through the park The leaves were falling around me The groaning city in the gathering dark On some solitary rock A desperate lover left his mark, He said "Baby, I've changed. Please come back."
What the head makes cloudy The heart makes very clear"
I was that desperate lover crying out to Lynn "Please come back!" My head might have been cloudy, but my heart was so desperately clear in what I wanted and needed with every fiber of my being.
I used to think about this many years earlier after Celta died in a fire. I had just spoken to her the previous day. Now, with those words from Lynn that she might not come back, I was lost in darkness without a compass or guide.
Not long after that, Diane, Lynn's mother, announced her plans to sell that house. I had moved out already.
A meteor had come crashing down upon my life. The home we had known was being obliterated. My home!
On September 7, 2000, I was summoned by Diane to retrieve what I might want from the home. I wanted Lynn. I didn't want to see these boxes. Lynn wasn't even there. I wondered how she was doing.
The kitchen table was still there. The living room couch still sat where we had it along with the chairs. This is where we would entertain guests - our friends - and family.
I felt like I was dead - literally. I know that might sound hard to imagine.
When we experience stressors in life, our minds and bodies react in different ways. We might become anxious and the fight or flight response kicks in. It's like being on the plains of Africa and seeing a hungry lion. Our bodies need to prepare us to run. Something like that happens in response to any type of stress that humans face - we respond based on our thoughts as if we were in physical danger.
There are other responses like the freeze response which animals use as well. One might imagine an animal playing dead as a survival mechanism. We might also think of this as a turtle withdrawing into its shell and hoping not to be noticed by a predator.
Something like that happened to me on that day when I showed up to gather what I might want. I wanted Lynn.
I was so overwhelmed, and my body felt like it was shutting down. I went into the room where we had the computer and the bookcase. It was around the corner and not visible from the living room. I put my back up against the wall on the left next to the closet with the mirrors on it.
I slid down the wall and raised my legs up at the knees and stared blankly ahead. I was vaguely aware that Diane was frustrated and angry at me.
I was supposed to be doing something. She needed to sell the place. I was expected to act. But instead, I just stared ahead blankly. Like I was dead. I wasn’t trying to be difficult or putting on an act of defiance. I felt dead!
I could vaguely register that she had called my mother when I didn’t respond at all.
Diane was either mad at me for acting this way or frustrated.
Everything I had known was here... This was our home. It felt comfortable for me and now it was being packed up and put into boxes.
Life as I had known it was disappearing like ashes from a fire. The love of my life, Lynn, fading away. It couldn't be. My home being deconstructed and taken down as if it had no meaning.
I wasn’t being told that Lynn didn’t want me to keep visiting her at her mother’s place.
It was too easy to deconstruct the life we had. Somehow, somewhere along the way, Lynn had lost her ring.
There had been no wedding and no official marriage certificate.
We weren’t talking about what this meant. There were no goodbyes.
It was a reverse of the first few years but all in the space of two months.
Lynn and I never had to talk about “are you seeing someone else?” She brought up the issue of whether we were more than just friends, one year after we started seeing each other. But it was just a formality. Everyone and anyone who saw us knew we were more than just friends back then.
The engagement happened without actual planning. I mean it was just a part of us saying to each other, “I’m in love with you.” I remembered how I had given her the ring and she was in tears – tears of joy – as I opened the box. I had been shocked because I had thought she knew I was bringing her ring over that day.
We had NEEDED to live together after that. As much as Lynn needed as much oxygen as she could get so had we needed to be together.
So, when Lynn said she might not be coming back, I didn’t have to ask what that meant. I wouldn’t ask or speak it!
No, no, no, no!
This is NOT happening! This is NOT happening!
What happened next, I don't remember. The next few days were dream-like. I was seeing the world as if I were looking through smoke, ashes, and fog. And all I could do is watch.
[Disclaimer: I have used aliases for clients to protect their identity and confidentiality.]
While all these things were happening, while I was trying to stay to hold onto my sanity amongst the grief over what had changed in my life with Lynn and the feelings that I had been drugged, I learned that grievances had been filed against me with the North Carolina Social Work Certification and Licensure Board (NCSWCLB). Everything was happening all at once.
This was during August of 2000. For the most part, this entire section of the book covers just one month in my life when everything changed. I was in a fog. Things didn't seem real. I was trying to process that the love of my life, Lynn, might die.
Everything had been fine just yesterday – I mean it felt like just yesterday. It felt like one day things were great and the next day I was living in a nightmare. There had been some gradual worsening of Lynn’s health, as I tried to indicate previously; but I had not noticed what was happening.
I had been on top of the world, successful in my career, living a happy life with my wife. We had a "normal life." … until it wasn’t normal!
How could I mount a defense against the complaints or grievances? For me, I never imagined anyone would complain about my services. I felt shame!
Looking back, I had not been reflecting on the reality of all the people who had been totally and completely happy with me over the past decade! Easily hundreds of people!
It wasn't comforting enough to know that these individuals had been brainwashed by John Freifeld. Why was he so obsessed with me? I learned that he had composed one single grievance letter or statement and the same exact letter or statement was signed by all five clients.
Let me give a summary of what was said. Again, this was the same exact grievance statement. That in itself is strange since each client had different issues. They all had Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) and two of them had been referred to me by John Freifeld.
They didn’t feel that I could treat DID. They claimed that I insisted that I speak to their alters – ironically, that was what Tracy said she hated John for doing. She had not been involved in this grievance since she had returned and left the area a couple of months ago.
They speculated that I was working with them because they were female, and they speculated that when I left the room to use the restroom it was to masturbate! Gee, I wonder where they got such a bizarre idea? Maybe from the guy who brought Tracy down to Wilmington to help her and then made unwelcome sexual advances on her, forcing her to escape the area?
They claimed that I spent too much time in sessions with them. They also claimed that I planted false memories of satanic ritual abuse.
What do I mean, brainwashed by him? Well, Sadie had left my services over two months previous to this. She had NEVER once mentioned the topic of satanic ritual abuse or anything that bizarre. She had NEVER expressed any dissatisfaction with anything I had done. Neither had her mother, other friends, and family, nor her wife.
The only two of them that even spoke about these conspiracy theories or anything related to that were Vanessa and Jessica. What they had shared was very vague and it had a religious tone to it. It was only enough to send me looking online to find out more about what might be going on with them. That’s when I had gone down the proverbial rabbit hole. That had only just happened.
I remembered how Michelle had been triggered by something she and Vanessa saw in the movie “Conspiracy Theory”, but I never found out what it was that triggered her or what it might mean to her.
They had retained lawyers and filed malpractice civil suits against me as well. My malpractice insurance company assigned me a lawyer who helped with the NCSWCLB complaints/grievances as well.
Lynn was in the hospital during this time, and I was going to have to tell her about this. I dreaded bringing more stressful information to her. I knew how much she loved me and wanted me to be happy and successful.
Some people have questions like what happened to my first wife, Lynn. She died in 2015, I found out. From cancer. There had been no "we" for all these years. Merely talking about her and what happened has been so painful.
Before I met Elee, my second wife, I had tried to get back with Lynn, but it never worked out. As I said in the last chapter, the times when I saw her down in Wilmington were very awkward and surreal. What could my friend Thomas do? Other than understanding what I must have been feeling.
I couldn't say anything when she was right next to me.
I had been more comfortable with her than with anyone else in my life. We had trusted each other implicitly. We had such a connection. I had stated the fact that I would have done anything imaginable to hold onto a relationship with Lynn. That fact cannot be understated.
I should have said something when she was right next to me. I had previously tried so hard. I didn't want to call her after a certain point about three years after we had started living our own lives - she with her mother and me in another city.
I had asked others to contact her and convey how much I felt for her. Obviously, those who heard my story were moved to call her and to convey this information. I had hoped to get some information that might lift my spirits.
I believe it was too painful for her to have to move on without me. I didn't want to cause her more pain. I don't know how she dealt with the memories of when we were in love.
I am so sorry!
Lynn had this survivalist instinct due to her illness. After we watched "Titanic" we were discussing the movie with a friend of hers who had cystic fibrosis like her. Her friend and I had agreed that we would jump back into the boat as the girl did to be with the guy.
Lynn disagreed. We had been living together for years at that point. So, I guess she was saying that she would not jump back into the boat to be with me. I know with one hundred percent certainty that I would jump back to be with her if she was in peril instead of getting into the rescue boats that would result in my near-certain survival.
I would NEVER be able to go to safety on a rescue boat with Lynn in a sinking ship. She would not find any justification in dying on a sinking boat just to be with me a bit longer. She might have found it senseless to stay on a sinking ship. I would have done anything to be with her, to help and protect her, no matter what.
So, there was a combination of factors that kept me paralyzed from contacting her from 2003 until her death in 2015. I had not wanted to make her life more painful. What I was going through was extremely traumatic for me and she was in survival mode.
There was another occasion when I almost spoke to Lynn during another awkward moment, years after we had been apart.
It was in late 2009.
Jean had invited me to come to a lounge on a Saturday evening in downtown Wilmington. He told me he was having a workshop for poets. We would share a poem to be workshopped. We would read it and ask for support or feedback from the group.
I had called him earlier that afternoon from Wrightsville Beach near Johnny Mercer's Pier.
I had been here at this location not long ago... up at the front area is where they have the poetry readings and music. I don't think this place existed in the 90s.
I have some videos of me reading some poetry at that location.
This next one here is a video of Jean Introducing me.
I heard Lynn would be there.
My mind had been racing with ideas about what I would or should say to Lynn if I said anything. This would be an interactive event... My heart raced throughout the next few hours as I headed in that direction.
What would I say?
Recently, I figured out in my mind that I had been a good person - always. So, the idea that I was undeserving of her was a false belief I had back then. It's sad that I figured this out after she died!
I had gotten so close to saying something on another occasion earlier as I mentioned in the previous chapter.
That evening came... I was told to go to the room in the back by Jean.
A few people were talking and then they left the room. Lynn was standing there - alone. I was right nearby.
Had others planned this? Left us in a dark, quiet, private room.
I was thinking and at the same time, my mind was trying to muster the willpower to do or say something. I was thinking of something to say. My heart pounded hard in my chest. I felt frozen – not cold but motionless. I was composing thoughts "I... I what?"
I imagined myself saying "I love you." and her answer would be "I know."
Wow! I just realized what a cliché that would be. It's right out of "The Empire Strikes Back" when Han Solo is being frozen in carbonite and Lea tells him. "I love you."
I'm sure I would have broken down, falling to my knees, weeping bitterly, crying "I love you so much. I NEVER stopped being in love with you."
My mind's a bit blank as I think back to what happened after that uncomfortable moment when I was there alone, close enough to touch Lynn.
Others filed into that room from the front. They took seats. Four to my right. Jean is the "leader" – he sat on the right. Three on my left. And then Lynn. My hands and arms were trembling. My breathing was fast and shallow. I'm sure others could hear me nearly hyperventilating.
The rotation was coming around toward me. I had selected a poem that I wrote called "Fugue State." A fugue state is a symptom of some dissociative disorders. I said they are caused by "trauma", but I could have just said extreme stress or distress. I had written this about the dark times I had known not too long ago.
Sometimes I don't know what I want to say until I say it. Below is the poem that I wrote. It's in free verse.
(I realized later that it was the imagery of dreams, disorientation, desolation, and despair are that I was trying to convey. I didn't know how to do this with rhyme or metered verse.)
Holding the poem in my hand I begin to read.
Fugue State:
In the dream... I think it's a dream - I'm not sure how I got here or where I was going.
It's dark. I look at the street signs that I walk past, and for a time I'm not finding any that I recognize.
Then I begin to think that things look a bit familiar but I'm... uncertain. I want to run but I'm tired and unsure how far I have to go.
I try to remember but nothing comes to mind to explain how I got here... where I am going... where I live - where my home is - or if I have a home.
I don't seem to be injured. I want to remember... I begin to question whether I even know for certain who I am?
The people I pass look unfriendly - not dangerous; they just don't convey anything resembling kindness or friendship. They don't know me. They don't pay much attention.
What should I say anyway? Ask them to tell me who I am? Or ask where I am? I cannot ask how to get where I am going because I do not know that.
I don't know if I am afraid of the ridicule or convinced of the futility in even trying to get help.
I want to fall down on my knees and cry... cry out to someone, "Please help me!"
But I'm paralyzed by my fear and all I can do is keep walking and hoping that somehow things will become clear and make sense.
--------------
I can't remember the feedback that I got.
When it came around to her, to offer feedback on my poem, she said "I pass."
I got up moments later, the feelings were overwhelming me. I walked out into the night, moving fast. I stopped into a bookstore and looked at some books. I got a call from Thomas, who was on the way.
"Okay, I'm heading back there, I'll see you in a little while," I said to Thomas.
I returned and took a seat near Jeff Wyatt in that front room near the bar. He had been friends with Lynn and me just like Thomas had been. He went into massage therapy at some point.
Here's a video of Jeff Wyatt reading poetry at the Word Salad Poetry Event. Lynn wasn't at the lounge that particular evening.
I suppose that my last words to Lynn were "Fugue State." My life had been like a bad dream... I had existed without an identity for a while... lost... without direction... without a sense of where to go or where my home was or where it might be someday.
I had not thought that was a very good poem until recently. As I read this recently within the past year or so, I thought "wow, that was good... that is poignant in the way that I convey such feelings and experiences that are so hard to convey."
I wasn't even mentioned in her obituary.
To this day that hurts so much to think about it.
I mean it really hurts. My tears blur my eyes and roll down my cheeks as I write this in 2021. It feels wrong that I didn't try harder when she was right next to me.
There was no closure. I had failed to just say those words. I love you!
And with that, I will end this book.
Please look for more of my memoirs. This is part of a series of memoirs or autobiographical stories.
I dedicate this chapter to my dear friend Thomas Childs, who continues to live in me and in my memories of a very important part of my life. There is a Thomas-sized hole in me that I will never fill in; it's my way of keeping him alive.
I took the photograph of Thomas above in 2008 down by the Cape Fear River near the Battleship.
Sadly, Thomas passed away in 2010, or he would be writing a recommendation for this book. He would recommend this like he recommended my poetry collection, which you can find on Wattpad also - it's called "What Really Matters."
Just like he did for that book, he would say that he is "honored to be asked by me to recommend that you read this." Trust me. I know my friend.
Some of my most meaningful and lasting relationships of mine were formed beginning in the early 1990s. Second, only to Lynn and Celta, was my friend Thomas Childs and my second wife who hasn't been introduced yet. Obviously, my connection to Lynn had a romantic component that was lacking in all other types of friendships such as my friendship with Thomas. However, that doesn't exclude him from being considered a part of my family.
As I write this, I am thinking of the song Empty Garden by Elton John. The lines that stand out are "a gardener like that one, no one can replace... and I've been knocking... most of the day...and I've been calling."
This was a time when I felt really connected to a group of people - a social circle. That being said, some of us really clicked. Thomas was one such person in particular with whom I felt really comfortable. We felt a sense of belonging to each other. This was my family. I felt at home in this life that I had.
It's amazing when you can sit down together and not worry about stilted conversations. Not worry about what you should say. Not worry about if you are okay or not. Not worry about whether you made the grade or are good enough.
I could talk to Thomas on the phone for hours when we connected sometime after I had been through my own dark time, or dark night of the soul as it were. I wish I had reached out to Thomas during those dark years. We could have supported each other.
Lynn had wished I kept in touch with our friends when she became ill in 2000. I felt like I had abandoned my friends. For those dark years that began in 2000 and lasted until sometime in 2006, I tried to make it on my own.
That was the biggest mistake I ever made in life!
Then in late 2006 or early 2007, I came down to Wilmington from Chapel Hill. I met Jean - a mutual friend - at the bus station and I asked about Thomas.
We picked up as if no time had passed. I would speak for hours on the phone with my dear friend. We had the same interests of course and so we could find things to share. TV shows or movies that we should watch.
Current events. Our writing. Things to laugh about together. Commentary on things. Philosophical ideas. Reminiscing.
"Oh, dear Thomas, I could have used your help, my friend. It was so hard when Lynn got ill in 2000. She said she wished I had kept in touch. I could have just picked up the phone.
"I was so scared. This wasn't supposed to happen to Lynn at just 34. We had a life planned; it was perfect."
"The biggest mistake was not calling and telling you what was happening, my dear friend."
Instead, I wallowed in the misery of what was happening.
Had I called Thomas, I would have discussed the challenges I was facing in my practice and in my career, as well.
I used to share some of the things I was learning with my friends.
Let me tell you more about this, dear reader. About this part of my story. It's about the importance of friendship.
It's so important in times of stress. Emotional support is key.
We had a social network of friends, as I was saying. This was from the poetry scene. I was part of this group. This was my social life. We felt we were doing something important, together.
Indeed, we were. Thinking. Writing. Sharing ideas. Creative ideas.
Our group included in the beginning, Thomas Childs (my friend), Lynn Krupey (girlfriend, fiancée, wife), Dusty (didn't catch her last name), Jean Jones, David Capps, Jeff Wyatt, (David) DJ Ray. I could live within the sanctuary of these people and the scene, as it were.
There was something comfortable, safe, and meaningful about this reality.
This was our time to become something. I was going to be defined by all of this and the relationships that I was building. I was growing up and forming a family... a family of choice.
Arriving on the Scene and Necessary Balance in Life
I could have been afraid and failed to attend that poetry reading at the Coastline Convention Center in April of 1992, and thought to myself, "I can't read my own poetry in front of others."
What good would it be to show up and be a ghost? What good would it be to sit there and watch others all the while thinking about how I don't fit in?
I can't imagine how my life would have been if I had not come out for this poetry reading that first week. I might not have met Lynn and shared a life with her. I might not have had the confidence to pursue my dreams.
That confidence grew out of the events that happened when I did decide to attend that poetry reading. It demonstrated to me that I could speak in front of a group and be the center of attention. I learned that I had something special to offer to others.
Through my relationships and connections with others back then, my life was transformed. I had not been in a good place before that time when I first arrived in Wilmington. Friendships like I had with Thomas and the relationship I had with Lynn were so valuable and they nurtured something special in me. I was able to give that to others as well.
This book might not have existed and you dear reader, might not have known me at all. I came with ideas about what might or would likely bring me happiness and meaning in life. And that is what I found.
That's what shyness can do. It can paralyze you and prevent you from making the connections.
Yet, I felt a need to share. To give my gifts as Dusty would say. Dusty was the emcee who worked at the Coastline Convention Center.
Dusty said that we were "sharing our gifts." I thought I was sharing something personal. Lynn wrote for herself; I would grow to learn. But Dusty said these were "our gifts." Wow!
Indeed, sharing something of yourself with another is a gift.
Some might say that we were a bunch of idealistic artists, but I had come there with a degree in engineering, which would be the springboard for graduate education in Social Work and toward becoming a Clinical Social Worker.
It might be more accurate to say that I have had values, passions, and interests than to say I was just idealistic.
The creative side of me might have been somewhat aligned with the values that drive a person to pursue a career in social work.
To us who work in the field of mental health, we need the support of others. The work can be rather frustrating. The work can also take a toll on you as you support those who have been hurt by life or harmed by others.
Spending hours with people who are overwhelmed by major depression and anxiety disorders can and does take a toll on you. You need balance and support in life. Emotional support.
In order to be a social worker, I learned social skills and how to deal with what I called shyness. Those same skills allowed me to share myself with others in my personal and social life outside school, training, the job, and everything else.
I wrapped myself in the warmth of the friendships I had formed. Back in the 90s, the welcoming nature of Dusty was always a source of comfort. I could show up for drinks at the Coastline Convention Center if I was feeling overwhelmed and alone, and Dusty would make me feel welcome and expected.
She would seem to have this genuine interest in me and was so glad that I showed up. Later, she would ask about Lynn, of course. I would feel less and less alone but occasionally overwhelmed by things in life.
I remember the warmth of Lynn would envelop me as we sat on the beach at Wrightsville Beach during cold winter nights. That memory would sustain me as well.
Then it was the comfort of a friendship like I had with Thomas. Again, our conversations were so comfortable, and the time together felt comfortable. Not stilted or desperately searching for something to keep the conversation going.
In a larger sense, this was a time and place that I knew was something amazing. Everything seemed so right and comfortable. I knew I was on the right path and that everything was going right.
I had a sense of belonging.
I knew who I was and what I wanted. We as friends would talk about the struggles, challenges, and doubts which existed from time to time in our lives.
Changes in the Late 90s and Into the Next Century
At some point, I regrettably got over-invested in the job beginning in mid-1999. I only allowed time with Lynn and those times when her family came with their kids which I mentioned earlier in this book.
So, unfortunately, I allowed myself to stop spending time with my friends, and my social life of writing and attending poetry readings was not happening. It was a crucial missing piece.
Fast forward to the summer of 2007, and I started visiting the area again. Life in Durham had not been rewarding in any way.
Anyway, on one of those visits back, Jean was having a poetry reading in celebration of a new chapbook of his poetry being released.
This was one of those visits back to the place I had called home. I was happy to see my new friend, Ryan. I was thrilled to see my new friend, Ana – obviously not the Ana that attacked me. I was thrilled to see Thomas and Jean. I was happy to see David Capps (he had been part of the scene back in 1992, though he was inscrutable to me).
Here is a video of Ana Ribeiro reading poetry at the Word Salad Poetry Magazine Event in Wilmington in October of 2009. In the video, we are at the lounge where I saw Lynn again as described in the next chapter. This is not the same location where Jean was releasing his new chapbook, so it's a different evening than what I am describing.
Here is a video of David Capps reading poetry. He was there this evening that I am describing but the video is from a different evening.
I knew Lynn would be there and so it was a bit surreal. There was no longer a "we" which was what made this surreal. It's hard for me to explain. I felt queasy and I had a knot in my stomach.
This was a reality that I had never envisioned. She had gotten new lungs and so she was still living, but there was no "we."
The autobiography of my life would need to include this reality. Thomas was that glue in that he had been our mutual friend - a dear friend who had been part of "our" shared life together.
He had navigated the roads of time maintaining a relationship with us both. Jeff Wyatt had been a mutual friend as well, but I seemed to sense that he was a bit colder than he had been in the past. I couldn't quite put my finger on it.
Thomas, Lynn, and I had been mutual friends but now there was no "we" that was Lynn and me. This wasn't supposed to happen, and it just felt so uncomfortable for me.
There had been no breakup and things had been so vague and confusing all these years.
Knowing Lynn was going to be there made me tremble, my heart was racing with anxiety. A good bit of alcohol made this only slightly more bearable.
I could sense Lynn nearby while I spoke to David Capps. My face was flush not just from the alcohol. My heart was racing, pounding.
I wanted to find something to say to Lynn with every fiber of my being. But I couldn't do it. I just felt uncomfortable. Lynn and I talked about everything – we even fought and got over it. Thomas and I had not argued nor had Celta and me before that. It seemed to me that being able to get into an argument and get over it, move past was a sign of how much more comfortable I had been with Lynn than anyone else.
This was frustrating so I stepped outside through the side door as people were milling about. I had noticed Thomas step outside. Ana was there too, talking to Thomas. Ana had not been part of the scene in the 90s.
I tried to bring up the topic of my discomfort with Thomas. This wasn't the first time I brought up the topic with him. What could he do? What could he say? I couldn't make sense of this new reality.
I did remember how in the early 2000s, I had enlisted people I met on Facebook to contact Lynn prior to this evening. They heard the story and were moved to call Lynn. She was polite but we never got anywhere.
I was still carrying the weight of profoundly low self-worth. I had no sense of worth as a person and whether we call it shyness or something else, we have to take action, or nothing will happen.
Sadly, Lynn might not have known that I still loved her or was in love with her...but she probably did.
I mean whoever these people were who called her they were moved with such a profound feeling of inspiration to want to connect Lynn and me again.
Life Changes
Later, Thomas had been happy to find out that I met someone else that I was going to marry.
Her name is Elnaz Rezaei Ghalechi (Elee). We got married in Ankara, Turkey. She had been submitting poetry to Word Salad, which was being published by Jean and me. Word Salad Poetry Magazine was started by Lynn and me in 1995. Later, Jean became the co-editor and co-publisher.
Thomas was a brilliant poet as well. I am sure we published some of his poetry.
Elee and I married in November of 2010 and when I got back, I found the news on a voicemail and on Facebook.
My dearest friend Thomas had died. He had died of a heart attack.
When I first heard the news, it didn't register. I had just seen him. I had spoken to him and he was happy for me. We had so much more to discuss!
No!
Elee responded appropriately. She was on the other side of the world and yet she understood better than my own sister. Elee consoled me as anyone would respond to news of this nature.
I started drinking when I heard the news about Thomas. My mind became a smooth flowing river. I thought this was a way to cope but it wasn't. It just made me sick.
Whatever was inside me wanted out and I clutched a table to stay alive. I fell to my knees due to a combination of grief and what the alcohol had done to me.
I had not made it to the funeral. I felt such shame for that. Would I have found the strength to speak to the crowds at his funeral? I think I might have done so. I wasn't the same person I once was but I could and would have had words to say. Or maybe I would have cried and cried.
Both.
It's hard to describe the hole that is left by a dear friend. It's hard to describe friendship and the love that we felt.
For someone like me to be at a loss for words is something in itself! I'm usually rather verbose... but what words can convey the specific things that connect two people and create that comfort among one another?
Had I made it down there, I would have found the words. I would come to feel great shame for years... To not even make it to the funeral of your dearest friend!
Anything I would have said about his brilliance should have been known by anyone there, but I would gladly repeat and confirm it. I can say that he is not gone! He lives in me and can't be taken away as long as I live and can write.
That's what I would tell his family!
That's the point of all these chapters that move between the past and the present... in this single chapter, I've covered events that have spanned eighteen years in this chapter, and each year, month, or day flow around one another in one stream of consciousness full of sound and fury, signifying everything!
What I most wanted to say was something only Thomas would understand. What we had was ours! It was for us and it was epic!
Dear reader, did you expect something less hyperbolic to come from me? You should know me better by now!
Writers like me are loath to employ trite statements that just sound like what you are supposed to say when you speak of someone who has passed. No, when I write, I mean it quite literally and explicitly.
There are so many times in which I have thought, "this reminds me of Thomas," "I would love to talk to Thomas about this" or "I should talk to Thomas about this, he would appreciate it."
The past is there in me. We are all together in that home that Lynn and I shared on Brucemont Dr. in Wilmington... or at a bookstore... maybe a coffee shop down by the Cape Fear River. I am haunted by the ghosts of the past, but that's a good thing!
I'm not going to try to summarize a friendship that began in 1992 and lasted nearly two decades until his death. The formality of a funeral has passed. On such occasions we find the necessary strength and words to speak.
Later, we realize how much was left unsaid and how much cannot be known by anyone besides the one we lost, in this final paragraph of this chapter, that person is Thomas Childs.
It had seemed that cystic fibrosis was about to destroy my entire life, as well as threaten the life of the woman I loved. I feel selfish to say that it was destroying my life. I cannot say that I was dying, not literally. I felt survivor's guilt because of this fact. I felt I didn't have a right to speak about how I was experiencing all of this. That might be part of the reason why I didn't reach out to friends and say, "I need your help" or "I need your support." or "I need to talk."
Lynn had known the devastating pain this would cause me. I just had a hard time thinking about "me." It's ironic that by not focusing on how this was affecting me, I didn't appreciate that this was an emotional, psychological and existential crisis for me.
To be honest, it happened too fast for me to get in to see a psychotherapist or a doctor for help to deal with this. If I had a physical sickness, I would have called my doctor and gotten an appointment in a day or so, maybe a week. With a psychological crisis or sickness that comes on so quickly, we don't think in terms of emergencies that must be addressed immediately.
I was like a walking zombie without Lynn.
She was now staying at her mother's place in Wilmington, the place on Wrightsville Beach.
I was beating up on myself for not keeping the place clean enough for Lynn to feel comfortable living in our home... but in reality, there was more to the story of why Lynn was living with her mother.
I was reflecting on the entire month that and what had happened.
We had two cats and they used the litter box in the garage. Sometimes I would forget to clean that also or before she went into the hospital the second time, I didn't want to do it myself. I had been in denial and struggling to admit to the fact that she could not do the things she used to be able to do.
Every little failure or thing I forgot to do made me feel ashamed. I hadn't been stubbornly refusing to do these things. I hadn't been angry at Lynn for not helping with any of these chores that would have been shared in the past. No, I just was in denial of what was happening and what her inability to do certain things meant.
It might have seemed like an easy calculation, that cleaning the home and doing other things to make it more likely that Lynn could come home is the most obvious thing for me to do but that just wasn't registering as something that was so obvious. Plus, I was terrified that Lynn might die. I kept pushing that thought away. In so doing, I was pushing a part of my reality out of my mind.
My normal capacity for planning and problem solving wasn't working at peak levels, to put it mildly. All the resources within me that had served me and guided me throughout the years were non-functional at this time. It seemed like those faculties had shut down.
We all need help at times in our lives - a supportive person like a therapist, friend, family member.
Dear reader, you might wonder why I could not offer myself the same support and guidance that I might offer a client. You might wonder why I couldn't draw upon my own skills. Up until this point in my life, I would have been able to step back, plan, figure out what I need to do, and then do it.
I would have done something.
I cannot overstate this fact, but I would have done anything imaginable to hold onto the life I had with Lynn – to hold onto any life with Lynn!
We were still in the month of August of 2000.
Clients depended upon me also.
Despite the grievances of those five clients, I had dozens of other clients whose therapy was going along well and things were fairly "normal" in that regard. I felt a responsibility to try to help them.
I couldn't just wallow in the grief and pain of losing Lynn forever. I also didn't know what to expect regarding Lynn's health. I felt powerless to help her so I didn't know what to do.
I had developed a coping mechanism to deal with the issues of being in love with someone who had a terminal disease called cystic fibrosis. I (or maybe we) had lived life as they say "in-the-moment." What else can you do? I mean, whether you are talking about Lynn who had lived with this her whole life all those years before she met me or if you are talking about me knowing in some way that I might not have Lynn forever, we both had to focus on what we had.
That strategy might make the best sense in a way, but it can also lead to denial. I know that this is what I was experiencing in August of 2000. In essence, it was like telling myself "This isn't happening. Everything is fine." But things were not fine. Lynn needed me and I wasn't giving her any sense that I could be there for her.
I wanted and needed to believe that the situation with Lynn living with her mother was temporary. Lynn's mother, Diane had separated from her husband, Bob, and was living down in Wilmington all the time. She had gotten a job as a psychologist in one of the schools.
On about the fourth of September of 2000, I heard Lynn tell me that she might not come back to me. I couldn't even begin to have a "logical" conversation about this because I broke down and started crying.
I was moving through life on autopilot.
I was in denial when I heard those words from Lynn that she might not come back. I thought, "this is not happening."
This is not happening. I could not wrap my mind around the reality of what I was hearing.
I reflected upon the weeks and months before the nightmare had started.
Just a few weeks earlier life had seemed so "normal." We were so in love. I had felt her body next to mine and knew that the love, passion, and romance had not faded at all in all the years we were together. If anything, it had only grown.
We had been so close just weeks earlier. Falling asleep with my arms around her. My heart and breathing synchronized with hers. I had felt such a sense of serenity as she drifted off to sleep. I tried desperately to hold onto that memory and that peace, but I couldn't.
My mind kept trying to conjure imagines and memories of this serenity of falling asleep, our bodies touching... the image of both of us facing the front window in the bedroom.
Her heartbeat and breathing slowed little by little as she transitioned into sleep. That was just a few weeks ago but it felt like the day before.
It might have been the day before but for her disease - cystic fibrosis.
There were other things that were happening in my life, but I was so consumed by the changes in Lynn's health that I could not function as I once had. I had tried to go on coping and working but things were different now.
