My story

My story began and ended with tragedy.  I met my late fiancé at a funeral for the father of my dear friend, who, as it turned out, was KC’s Uncle.  I remember the very first time I saw him; he was walking through the reception hall of the church following the service. He was wearing a suit and had sunglasses on his head and he was with a beautiful young Asian woman.  I thought to myself too bad that guy is married, he’s so cute. That is the type of man I would want to be with. Following the service my friend asked me to accompany her to her mother’s house and stay with her. It was here that I met KC, and was pleasantly surprised to learn that the lovely young Asian woman he was with was not his wife, but his adopted sister. KC’s father, aunts and uncles have told me several times how they had never seen anything like it when KC and I met; it was electric. We clicked immediately and felt completely at ease with each other. I couldn’t believe I had only known this man for a mere couple of hours as I felt as if we were old friends.  KC would make little jokes about me, like that I was too tall in my heels and too tan from living in Orange County. Somehow even when he was making fun of me I could feel the affection and I knew it was his way of complimenting me.  KC and I were sitting outside and he leant me his sweater to stay warm. When I left that night with his cousin, my friend Heather, we were about halfway home when I realized I had left my phone in the pocket of his sweater, so we turned around to get go retrieve it.  I was so embarrassed when I walked back in the door to see him sitting there amongst his whole family, adorned in the sweater I had been wearing all night, with his hands in the pocket.  The room went quiet and he looked right at me, held out my phone to me and said “if you wanted my number so bad, you could’ve just asked me for it.”  I was mortified and the family all laughed. I took my phone and thanked him, and left.  When I got back in the car I looked at my phone and scrolled through my contact list, where I found his phone number.  Three days later, I called him and we set up a time for me to visit him in Santa Barbara.  I knew I loved him right away and KC always said the same thing.  We talked about living together on our first date (or more accurately, he tried his damndest to convince me to move from the OC to the SB).  Everything in me wanted to just say “OK I’ll send for my things!” but the logic within me and the fear of what the people in my life would think made me wait 3 months before moving to be with him. KC and I had so many adventures together, and we taught each other so much.  In less than three years, we visited mexico, Mammoth Lakes, traveled the entirety of the California Coast, partied in Las Vegas and hiked the mountainsides in search of wild mushrooms, fished the Channel Islands, and even lived in Southeast Alaska for 5 months.  All this time we knew this was the real thing, and we often talked late into the night about how we would raise our children (one of our own, then adopting another one or two).  We had a timeline and a plan. Everything we wanted was coming to us, and just two months after returning from our summer Alaskan adventure, KC took me to one of our favorite coastal escapes on the Sonoma Coast in Gualala.  We had this tiny little cottage all to ourselves with a bay window that looked right out at the ocean; it was incredible! After a quick tour of the grounds and a little mushroom hunt, I was sitting in the bay window wrapped in a blanket and reading.  KC walked over to me and stood at my feet looking out the window but not saying anything.  He looked a little strange to me, so I closed my book and asked what he was doing.  I could tell he was starting to cry and I reached for his hand but he pulled it away.  He looked up toward the ceiling and took a deep breath, and then looked toward me and said “Babe, you know I’m going to love you forever, right?” I said “yes,” and he went on. “And you know that as long as we’re together, we’ll be OK, and we can do anything.  And that no one can ever love you like I love you, right? You know that, right?” (Here is where it is tough to remember the details). I said “yes” and he dropped to one knee and held out a little heart shaped box with a bow on it.  I think I asked him what it was and he told me to open it.  I said “you have to say it, you have to ask me!”  He looked me straight in the eye and said “babe, will you marry me?”  I took the ring from the box, handed it to him, and held out my left hand; I couldn’t speak.  He put the ring on my finger and I kissed him.  He said “you never answered me.”  I screamed “YES YES YES!!!!” and jumped into his arms.  We sat on the window for hours and talked about our wedding and all the plans we had to make, what songs we would dance to and who would be in our bridal parties.  It was perfect.

            The days that followed were the happiest I can ever remember.  We were back in Santa Barbara, everyone knew he was proposing and knew we were coming home engaged and everyone we knew was so happy for us. It was eight days after he proposed when he went out lobster diving with his father and a friend. I was no stranger to this as fishing and diving was his obsession and this happened on a weekly basis.  Around sun down that day I got a call from KC’s father, Dave.  I answered and asked if they were back in. He said yes, and asked me where I was. I told him I was in my apartment. Then he asked me if I was alone and I knew something was wrong. Instantly I flashed that KC must be in the hospital; I thought he got the bends. I said “is everything ok?” “No.” I collapsed. He went on “KC went down for his first dive and he didn’t come back up.” I dropped the phone, and my friend Ashlee picked it up and talked to Dave. I heard her scream through what sounded like a tunnel.  KC was missing for about 30 hours until his body was found outside of a cave on the front side of Santa Cruz Island.  When his sister, Emily, came in the door and told me they had found him I already knew he was gone, but I was hoping. She told me “they found him, but he’s, he wasn’t, he isn’t alive.” I was back in the tunnel, couldn’t hear people talking to me, couldn’t see straight, couldn’t stand, couldn’t cry or talk.  My next memory is being in my mother’s car and begging her to take me with him, but she said she couldn’t. Then the hospital. Then drugs. Then a week of flickering memories and lots of people and no food and everyone trying to give me food. December 4, 2010, two days before my twenty-seventh birthday and eight days after getting engaged my world ended as I knew it.