Engagement Story

Five years ago today, KC proposed to me. It was so unexpected and so beautiful. I remember the week before, I was up visiting my parents before my sister's wedding. I had been up for a week before KC came up to be here for the wedding. I remember when he got here I was so happy; it felt like I had been away from him for a month! He was sitting on the couch and I walked by him, he grabbed my hand and pulled me onto his lap. He was asking me about Thanksgiving, and confirming plans that we had to meet his dad and sister on the Saturday following the holiday in Sea Ranch for mushroom hunting and abalone diving. He asked me if we could go up a day early and have a night to ourselves. I of course said yes. When we got up to the coast we settled into this little place in Gualala. It was a big stretch of property with a bunch of little cottages. We walked all around the property and picked mushrooms and explored for the better part of the afternoon; it was really fun. We settled into our sweet little cottage to relax a little before our dinner reservation.

I sat in the bay window in front of the hill that had a view of the ocean. I wrapped myself up with a blanket and a book, and sat so happy for about an hour. I wasn't paying too much attention to KC at the time, but in hindsight I suppose he was acting somewhat strange. He just seemed sort of distracted, I guess. We weren't talking much, and when we did it didn't seem like he was particularly present. As I was reading, I saw him out of the corner of my eye; he was rummaging through his bag and sort of pacing. Again, I didn't pay too much attention, I was just reading in the window. Then it happened. He walked slowly over to my side and looked out the window. I looked at him, and then out the window too. I am sure I said something about the view, but he stayed quiet. I remember asking him what was wrong...He kind of laughed and tilted his head back. He looked so nervous, it made me nervous. His head remained tilted, and I saw a tear roll from his eye; now I was really nervous. I grabbed his hand, he wouldn't look at me. With his head still back, tears still on his face, he said "You know I'm going to love your forever, right?" I knew that, I always knew that. "Yes," I said expectantly...what is happening right now?

He dropped to one knee and said some beautiful things about me, about us, about who we were and who we would become. I desperately wish I could remember exactly what he said but my head was swimming with what I thought might be happening. He held out that little heart shaped box with the bow on it and handed it to me. He looked me dead in the eye, "open it," he said, and I did. That ring was more beautiful than I could have ever hoped for. I got tearful at this point myself. I couldn't speak, I just looked back at him. His face was serious, stoic, but soft. "Will you marry me?" I couldn't speak. I handed him the box and stuck my hand out for him to place the ring. He put in on my finger and I grabbed him around the neck and kissed him, ferociously. I was smiling so big, it hurt my face. I still hadn't spoken, he said "You haven't actually answered yet..." I screamed "YES YES YES! I didn't say that?! YEEESSS!!!!!"

We sat in that bay window for about an hour talking about everything. We planned certain things about the wedding, talked about who would be the maid of honor and best man. We discussed bachelor and bachelorette parties (His best friend Below would NOT be in charge of his). We talked about having my brother officiate the wedding, our friend's band would play us down the aisle. We discussed different locations and where we might have the ceremony and what kind of booze we would have. We talked about how at our first dance we would start off dancing to some over the top sappy love song, and then there would be a record scratch and we would dance to some old school hip hop song or to Led Zepelin. We talked about who would cater the wedding, what colors we would wear, what season the wedding would be in, how we could plan it around our summers in Alaska.

Shortly after that we went to dinner at the restaurant on the property. KC had already told them he was going to propose, and there was champagne and congratulations awaiting us. We had a beautiful dinner. KC bragged to everyone he saw that he was going to marry me, he showed people my ring, told them that he had just asked me and I said yes.

The next day we met with his dad and sister, obviously they knew KC was going to propose and they were so happy. It was a truly amazing weekend. I felt so accepted as part of his family, I felt so happy and hopeful about our future. Our engagement story was such a lovely reflection of our relationship. It wasn't showey, it was sincere and true and just for us. KC always wanted to share his happiness with others, but this was just for the two of us. I have such a clear memory of that day, still, after five years. I can easily say it is one of my favorite moments I have ever experienced. I believe the only things that rival that level of elation are when my niece and nephew were born.

I have had so many wonderful days since I've lost KC. I graduated college, I became an auntie several times over, I got accepted and started graduate school, I've even started dating again and found someone who makes me very happy and I just adore him. I've welcomed the
children of dear friends and the union of people I care so much about. I've made new friends, I've maintained old friendships. I've seen concerts and traveled and graced the tops of both towers on the Golden Gate Bridge. There are many things for which I feel unbelievably lucky. But today, my heart is heavy with this memory and the thoughts of what could have been. I just miss him. I miss our life together. I am angry that we never had a chance at that dream wedding we planned in the window of our cottage.

Today, I hurt. I hurt and I wish.

Dichotomy

Holding:
Deep connection and profound loneliness
Ecstacy and profound wounding
Hope and hopelessness
Love and rage
Wonder and spaciness
Desire for knowledge and a filled cup
Knowing all and knowing nothing
Oneness, me-ness, us-ness, and you-ness
Stillness and reckless abandon
Left brain and right brain
Indifference and weighty concern
Thirst and hunger
Longing without knowing for what
Satiation and desire


How can one hold this? All of this? Simultaneously. I'm not sure, but it's happening.

New Year and Discipline

The holidays were tough this year, as they have been since KC has been gone, but this year it has been different and worse.  About 3 weeks before Thanksgiving my dad told me that he had renal cancer and would have to have surgery to remove his left kidney.  To add to this, he said I couldn't tell anyone about it.  I was sitting at the dinner table with my parents, my sister, brother-in-law, and niece and my dad dropped this bomb.  As soon as I heard the words "I have cancer" my vision blurred, my temperature rose, and I stopped hearing everything else that he said. I soon got up and ran to the bathroom to throw up; as if my body thought it could extinguish the bad news. My father has had the surgery and is doing quite well, but I can't shake the feeling of foreboding.

This news and the surgery obviously affected my Thanksgiving celebration. We still had the dinner we usually have, but it was tainted. It felt different.  The food was different as Pop wasn't able to prepare the entire meal as he usually does and other people provided the bulk of the feast.  It was nice to have everyone, and obviously I am grateful that Pop is hangin in there, but shit, man. The foreboding. It's there and it's real.

A short couple weeks later was four years since KC passed, and then two days later it was my 31st birthday.  My birthday was on a Saturday this year, however, it was a grad school weekend, so that Friday, Saturday and Sunday were 12 hour school days.  Though my cohort at school was incredibly kind and ritualized my day in an unbelievable showing of love and appreciation, it wasn't the same as celebrating my birthday with my family and my friends as I usually do.  I felt a little like my birthday was skipped this year.

The last week of work before winter break is always brutal. The kids were crazy and I was at my wits end, aching for Friday afternoon and the freedom that awaited me. Freedom finally came, and I woke up with a terrible cold that first Saturday morning of my vacation.  Mind you, this was a working vacation, as I have 4 papers due tomorrow for school, but it was a vacation nonetheless.  Yet, it was just a cold...how bad could it be, right? Wrong. I am still sick. There have been days here and there in the last two weeks where I thought I was getting better and over it, but it has fallen back to the nastiness and I still can't shake it. The worst part is that I had laryngitis as well, and it was at its worst on Christmas Day, forcing me to stay home alone while my family celebrated together, without me.  My Christmas was spent barely conscious on a couch all by myself, unable to talk.

I realize I am sounding like a whiny little kid, here. Trust me, I am fucking sick of myself too. But I am affected by this. Being sick for so long has taken away experiences from me. It even affected the papers I have had to write, as being so sick for so long apparently has a dramatic affect on cognitive functioning (who knew?). But the point is, as I am looking at a brand new year, I have had a lot of time to think about how I want to make this year better than the last, and broaden my experiences. I have been trying to think of a word to encompass all aspects of my life that I want to improve.  The best that I can come up with is discipline.  If I can be disciplined, I will maximize the use of my time in my work and school.  I will be in charge of my health and fitness.  I will have space in my domicile.  I will limit my spending to save for the things that really matter to me, like travel, family,  and education. And maybe, if I am lucky, it will spill over into my romantic endeavors too and I will be able to make time and take chances to aim toward a better life for myself.

So, this year, I aim toward discipline. I will manifest 2015 in the best way possible and change habits that no longer serve me. Discipline, kids. The name if the 2015 game.

Wishing you a connected, disciplined, and empowered year.

4

It has been four years since I have seen you. You’ve been gone longer than I knew you.  It has been four year since you held my hand, kissed my mouth, told me you loved me, made me feel safe, made me believe in true love, made me believe, everyday, that I deserved it. It seems like it was all at the same time just yesterday that you died, and a million years since I have seen you, touched you, bathed in your presence and love.  

What is it about four that feels so significant?  Why does four feel so big?

The number four is loaded with symbolism.  In some realms it is representative of the fourth dimension, time, which is said to be an illusion. That would explain the contradictory feelings of how long if feels that KC has actually been gone.  Four is connection, completion, four seasons four elements.  In Buddhist culture, the The Damba Tree of Life has four limbs and four roots that are fed by four streams.  The Greeks equate the number four with the God Hermes, son of Zeus and Maia.  Hermes is the messenger god who communicates with all other gods and the guide for the dead to the underworld. Hermes held the number four sacred as he was born in the fourth month, as was KC.

In Egypt, the number four is considered the sacred number of time in reference to the sun. Numerology suggests the totality of the number four, again referencing the four elements, four directions, four sides to the perfect square.  It is representative of calmness, solidity, and home, with the suggestion of getting back to the bones of your life, planting roots, and persevering through obstacles when finding ground might be difficult.  The four is the ground in that moment. 

The Bible talks about the number four and its relationship to creation. The fourth day was when the material universe was completed with the sun, the moon and the stars, giving way to the four seasons in a year. The fourth commandment is remembrance of the Sabbath day in order to properly honor the work that went into the creation of the universe as we know it. 

There are four temperaments described in early psychology that are related directly to Hippocrates’ four humors.  Melancholic temperaments are doomed to a life of disappointment and slow movement despite their virtuous nature. Choleric temperaments are strong but give way easily to anger. The sanguine person is obedient and fits in well with their environment as a practice, seeking approval and avoids controversy.  Phlegmatic types are similarly adaptable, but stubborn and lazy.  These four temperaments cover a complete array of personality types, furthering the notion that the number four represents completeness.

“One significant representation of four symbology is in the representation of the four evangelists of the four winged beasts in the vision of Ezekiel, later reconstitutes in the New Testament as the four beasts of the apocalypse in the Book of Revelations. In the Kabbalah, there were four worlds of the Tree of Life. There are four creatures on the arms of Freemasonry, four primary mental functions according to Carl Jung, and four dimensions of modern science: length, breadth, width, and time.”

With all of this research, all of the symbolism, all of the awareness this brings and parallels drawn, what does it mean in the scheme of the loss that I suffered 4 years ago?  Though completion and home and stability and strength feel like very attractive qualities moving through 4 years of heartbreak for a senseless accident with no meaning, unfortunately, the fact that four years have passed me by without the man with whom I agreed to share the rest of my life brings me precious little solace.  However, standing with my back to four and facing year five head on feels different than previous anniversaries.  Grounded in four, I feel the elements around and beneath me; The earth under my feet.  I feel the square solidity of the new foundation upon which this life I never asked for has been built.  I feel the four roots from the Tree of Life and I am quenched by the four rivers that feed the tree.  I feel Hermes delivering my messages and his connection to the natural and mystical alchemical changes which occur over time reinforce the rooted feelings of four.  Or maybe there is none of this and all I am doing is trying to make sense of this.  What I do know, is that I have been blessed with another year on this earth, and I am making the most of it. I will continue to do so, and honor my time with love in my heart and an openness to receive it. I will continue to miss him, and honor his memory with my own actions of love and affection and presence in the world.

http://www.samuel-beckett.net/Penelope/four_symbolism.html

http://www.whats-your-sign.com/spiritual-meaning-of-numbers.html

http://www.biblestudy.org/bibleref/meaning-of-numbers-in-bible/4.html

http://www.crystalinks.com/numerology2.html

Thanksgiving Day

"What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love." -Fyodor Dostoyevsky

I am grateful. There are so many external factors for which I am grateful, most notably are the ones that I am sure we all feel, our families, our friends, a roof over head and warm food in our bellies. But this year, I am struck with gratitude for something that feels selfish, at first, but stay with me. I am grateful for my heart. My poor, torn, battered, and beaten heart that pumps life through my veins and renews itself over and over again. My heart has been pushed to the breaking point and has come back with such resilience and sincerity and an overwhelming capacity to give and receive love. It is because of this heart, which often feels as though it is hanging by threads, that I am able to feel the wealth of gratitude I have for the aforementioned external factors in my life which contribute so generously to my life's richness. It has been in my darkest moments when my brain tells me that I can’t go on, I can’t give love away again and open myself up to such pain, that my heart steps in and reminds me that to love and be loved is worth it, and that I can and will keep giving love and accepting it in return. It is for this that I am grateful; this torn up and beaten down heart that never gives up, never breaks down, and never grows cold. With this, I wish you the happiest day, and I leave you with an invitation to push your heart to the maximum of its capacity to love and be loved. If I can do it, you can do it. Happy Thanksgiving, dear ones. I love you.

Regression

I feel like I am regressing lately.  I think about KC and the loss and the fact that I am alone almost constantly.  It has been three and a half years now and I haven't successfully dated anyone.  I have no prospects on the horizon.  I still live with my parents and I am have almost no savings.  I can't believe this is where I am right now. 

But.

Well.


This IS where I am right now.  I just finished my first year of grad school and I am lucky enough to have a family to support me while I am finishing school so I don't rack up even more debt.  I am good at my job; just because I am not getting rich, I am damn good at what I do and I positively influence kids with special needs on a daily basis.  I am very proud of that.  Yes, I think about my late fiancee a lot.  I remember him and think of him and smile and cry and I remember how well loved I was.  I miss him, and I don't know that I will ever stop missing him.  I don't think I want to stop missing him.  But I deserve to be loved.  I just need to be patient.

It's so fucking hard to be patient.

Themes and therapy.

I recently finished seven, 12-hour days of school in a row.  I am in school to get my master's in counseling psychology and hopefully get my MFT license.  The school that I chose is not your run of the mill school, but used to be named the Institute for Transformative Learning, or something like that.  Long story short, it is a hippy dippy new wave institution in which I have grown and learned a TON and I fucking love it, but it is really hard.  Like, really hard.  Not like, damn, it's tough to be in school such long hours because listening to a lecture is tough, but more like, damn, I am doing so much work on myself and I am emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted and I feel like my eyeballs are going to pop out because I have been crying so much.

It's a lot like therapy, but it's education.

This past week I learned a lot about myself as I was pushed by a difficult person in my cohort.  A common theme came up in my life that I guess I had always known was there, but I wasn't working with or processing in any healthy way.  That theme is that good things in my life get cut short and then I shut down.

Seriously. Think about that for a hot second.

I am sure it happened before KC died, and it stands to reason that this is just a natural rhythm of life. Good things happen, bad things happen, wash, rinse, repeat.  But the shut down part, that is a problem.  It's a problem because it keeps me from having experiences and I am afraid I am missing valuable time in my life.  Maybe this is why I am not able to successfully date someone.  Maybe this is why I have only gone for unavailable men since I tried to start dating.  Maybe this is why when things start going well for me, I get ill.

What I know is that I am wasting time and I don't have much of it, so I want to make it worth something.  I don't want fear to rule my life.  I don't want to be the Debbie Downer-let's-live-like-everything-is-shit-because-eventually-we'll-all-be-dead character who I see myself becoming. I need to be able to trust people.  I need to be able to trust the world around me.  I need to believe that love is still an available option for me.  And the most salient point? I need help.  I am not healthy in the mind body soul kind of way that I want to be.  So I am looking for a good therapist. Know someone? Let me know.  I want to disrupt this theme in my life and be able to be a well-adjusted person who believes in the goodness that I do know is there. I just need to be able to tap into that and find a way to become willing to risk pain for love again.

I just wonder if that is possible.

Well, today was stupid.

I hate days like today.  Everything started off sideways and just kept at it.  I was really trying to turn it around, and at one point I even thought I had it.  But no.  More shit.  I felt ineffective and naive. Those are two of the worst feelings besides grief, I think.  I am at work and I am not being affective so I feel like shit.   I was thoughtless about social media (like a fucking dummy) and it bit me in the ass and now I feel naive, and that feels shitty.  So that's where I am at.  And the WORST part, you ask? No KC to make me feel better at the end of the day.  No anyone to make me feel better at the end of the day.  Just come home to my parents house and hide away and feel shitty til I don't. Happy mother fuckin Tuesday.

Happy Birthday, True Love

I can't believe this is the fucking FOURTH time I have had to celebrate your birthday without you. I hate it. I keep hoping and wishing and thinking these kinds of days are going to get easier, and I guess in some ways they have.  But I just miss you and wish you were here and that we could celebrate together, and I don't think that ever goes away. I know I will never love anyone like I loved you, and I know I will never be loved the way you loved me again, but I cherish the precious little time we shared and I wish you could still feel how much I love and honor you every day.  I am writing this to you and listening to Led Zeppelin, "Hey Hey What Can I do?" and I can hear your voice signing it to me, your arms around my waist, your head thrown back, and your jerkey little dance moves. I miss it so bad I feel physical pain in my body. I just love you so much, fuck me so FUCKING much and I just would give everything I have to hold you one more time. I love you, and I miss you, and that is my constant state of being. 

It's most illogical

I was really actively trying to date. Like, really trying. I asked people to set me up. I went online. I had 4 dates set up since the first of the year. Every single one of them fell off of the face of the earth as soon as the words "it's a date" were uttered. I am not taking it personally. I truly feel like I am a catch and I really think it is they're loss, and if they're that type of douche bag I would like to know before I waste any real time on them, so I considered it a gift. One night, a couple of weeks ago, I had a little moment of clarity where I realized, without any self-loathing, self-deprecation, and especially no self pity that I am just going to be alone. And for the first time I am kind of ok with that. I was so lucky to have been loved so well, like seriously loved SOOOOO well. I mean, it was instant, and true, and electric, and I remember feeling like I couldn't squeeze him hard enough, I couldn't tell him enough what he meant, the word love seemed so small and meaningless compared to the level of profundity and abundance I had for him and the I KNEW and I still KNOW in my whole being that it was 100% reciprocal. How could I ever expect that again? It's just....illogical and childish to think I will ever be in love like that twice in a lifetime. I wasn't sad when I realized this. I think I will have a boyfriend again, maybe after grad school someday. I am sure I will share time with someone. I would love to make children, but I am not sure I will have that chance either (that is what I am struggling to accept). But really, I have been alone for over 3 years now and I really truly like who I am and what I do. I am proud of myself and what I have accomplished since KC died and I believe he would be proud of me too. But, I have given up wasting time looking for the impossible. It's just not possible. But I think that's ok.

Seriously? Fucking Valentine's Day....

I have been in a shitty mood all week, and I think I have figured out why. No, it's not just Valentine's Day, however that has something to do with it. Having the fact that you are unattached when you don't want to be pointed out in such a blatant way does everything BUT make you want to celebrate love.  When you have lost love like I have, it hurts to see other people celebrating with their husbands, fiance's, or significant others.  It's everywhere. I tapped out on Facebook at 9am. Can't do it.  I keep clicking on it and instantly think, why the fuck are you doing this to yourself? Then comes the guilt. Why can't you just be happy for other people who you care about? Why can't you feel happy that people you love feel happy too? I hate that something as beautiful as the love that other people share makes me feel so sad. I hate that I have become one of the people who HATE Valentine's day. But really, if you think about it, I have only had 2 good Valentine's days in 30 years...not exactly battin a thousand here.

Anyway, the thing that has really gotten me down is so terrible I don't really even want to admit it. But here she goes...
I don't believe that I will fall in love again.
Damn.
Just sit with that for a moment. 


I am 30 years old and I lost the person who made me believe that love is real. I have dated other people since his passing. I have felt romantic feelings for other men.  But I have always known it wasn't right, or real. I've known there isn't a potential for love.  As much as I try not to make comparisons to KC, it's damn near impossible not to. I think it's great that I have a high bar set, but really, I think my bar is unreachable by any man who isn't KC.


So what, I'm doomed to a life of loneliness? Destined for black shrowded widowhood and sadness for the next 60 years? Fuck that. I really don't think that is going to happen, but I really don't believe, down in my soul, that I will ever be truly, recklessly, unconditionally, ridiculously in love ever again. And that is a daunting realization. 

So as for Valentine's Day. Fuck off with your red roses and chocolates (okleavethechocolate), I don't wanna see that shit.  But really, I love you, and I hope you're happy today, as ever. I am just feeling a little wounded and defensive, so I am trying to act tough. But crying in my office today was enough...

3

Yesterday marked three years that my fiance has been gone, and tomorrow I turn 30. Finding a huge dichotomy of feelings. On the one hand, I feel tremendously grateful: I had a great and powerful love, I have a beautiful proposal story (not to mention a beautiful ring), I have amazing memories and supportive friends and family, and I feel grateful to be afforded the right to turn 30. But in this moment, I have no hope. I can't see past my despair and loneliness. I feel incredibly aware of my sadness and after three years, as long as I knew KC, I know there will never be an end to my grief and it just feels overwhelming. How can a body sustain such agony? I just feel defeated and I fucking hate it. This isn't fair, this isn't what I deserve, and it damn sure isn't what KC deserved. The world is a dark and lonely place without him, and I am afraid I will never fully be able to open my eyes to the light again. I am wishing you all so much comfort, but today, there is no way to be comforted. Today it's just pain.

Fuckin letter to my brain

There is a lot going on and I just want some mother fucking peace, man.  This is a fucked up time of year for me and I don't want to be caught up in shit that is on my periphery. I just want some peace and quiet.  I don't know how to get the things I want emotionally so I am going to fucking forget about all of that and just work on what I know I can do. School. Work. Gym. If I dedicate myself to those things I will find some balance and peace and I will be successful in that sweet little trifecta. 
Dear Meg O,
Here's what you need to do:
School: Get your shit together and study, bitch.
Work: Get on top of it and keep learning how to be a better social coach. You're brand new at it, and you're in the deep end. Fuckin suck it up and doggy paddle the shit outta it.
Gym: This is the only body you're ever going to have. Make it one you're fucking proud of. Make your body stronger than you've ever been and sustain it. You fucking owe it to yourself to care for this body, properly nourish it and keep it active. 
From,
MotherFuckingMegO

Veteran's Day

Today is weird. I was just looking at Facebook and trying to think about a post I could craft that is true to my liberal hippie commie values while still acknowledging how much I truly appreciate and admire the military and their willingness to put themselves at risk for the continued safety and security of our so imperfect country.  The only thing I can think to say is thank you to those who voluntarily serve so I don't have to. Thank you to those lives who have been lost for honor and "The American Way" so I may sit behind my laptop and question our government. I am granted the freedom to argue with my father and other more conservative people because someone woke up and decided duty and honor were more important to them than being safe at home.  That providing the ability for ME to be safe at home was more important to them than for them to stay at home themselves.  I have family and friends and acquaintances who have served this country and hold greatly different views than me, but it is because of them that I have the freedom to express my wishes for this country in a safe manner, without fear of prosecution or persecution.  How oddly wonderful is that?  I have wishes for this country to be better, but I'll be damned if I am not lucky to hold the company I keep and feel immensely proud to be an American.  I am granted the freedom to both question my government and appreciate them at the same time. Deeply and profoundly, I thank you Veterans and active duty military folks. I am one lucky American hippie.

longing

What's worse than longing? It seems like it is an integral part of so many feelings. Like, base level of grief, is longing. I long for KC to be here with me. I long for companionship. I long for children. I grieve a life I lost and a future I was cheated out of. It's all longing. Missing. Empty. I don't know where that will go. I don't even know that if I should be so lucky to find new love, to bear children, to cease the emptiness, should all that happen will this longing subside? Will there ever be a point where I am complete despite my loss? Three years. I am looking down the barrel of three years of living my life without KC in it and I still so long for him. I long for the feeling of pride that shown in his eyes when he looked at me. How can I go the rest of my life never knowing that feeling again?

Change

Before I met KC I had never had a real relationship with a man. I say “real” because I was never shown true love; I was never in a relationship of reciprocity; I was never with a man whom I was proud to be with or who was proud to be with me.  KC told me all the time how he wanted to show me off to his friends and family, not because I was some trophy but because I was smart, kind, funny, and he knew people would respond to that and it would reflect well on himself.  He was so proud to call me his girl, and I was proud to call him my man.  I had never had that before.  Now that he is gone, I know I will never go back to those “relationships” I had before I met KC.  I will never be treated as less than, I will never let someone be unfaithful, I will never be someone’s girl “on the down low,” because I know my worth.  Because I was with KC, I know who I am and what I am capable of.  This has translated to other facets of my life beyond what I want out of my future romantic life.  Because of KC I knew I could graduate from college, and I did, cum laude, even.  I was accepted to a Master’s program which I am starting next month.  I was recently promoted to a new position as a social coach for children on the Autism Spectrum.  I do all of these things because KC believed in me, so I believed in myself.  I am better for being with him.  Because of KC I am creating lasting change within myself, and therefore lasting change in the lives of those with whom I work.  I continue my journey to become the best version of myself that I can be.  I am making the world better because KC inspired me to do so.  The world is worse off without KC, but I am making it better in his honor every day.  I believe that with my whole heart.  There are so many other ways in which I was changed for being with KC and for losing him, but none so much as this.  I work hard to leave this place better, make this place a gentler place for the children who I serve, make it brighter for the one’s I love. This is KC’s legacy.

Dating Sucks.

I fucking hate it! I am trying to be available, open, look my best so I will feel my best, I am doing the online thing one TWO different sites! I am finding that the more options available the more I hate that I have to "pick" a new life partner. I signed up to do online dating because I thought it would quickly narrow down the options to just the one's who want what I want, but I am starting to think no one wants what I want. I am just being met with rapid fire rejection and men with whom I am completely uninterested. It is so unfair. I had everything with KC, everything. I shouldn't have to be looking again. And honestly, not to sound boastful, but I don't think it should be so fucking hard for me to find a nice guy who is reasonably attractive that wants to make babies. It's not like I am looking for a god-damned unicorn here, just a nice, funny person who is excited to raise a family. I entitled this post dating sucks, but I can't even say that I am even dating because I haven't actually been on any dates! Though I really don't want to, I think I just am going to have to get comfortable being alone. I have said it before, but I always felt like I had more work to do before I was really ready to date, and that was why I wasn't being flooded with opportunities. At this point, I feel like I know what I want. I feel like I am confident in who I am and what I have to offer someone in a relationship. And still nothing. I guess KC really was the only man for me.

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.