Source Blog: atriptosaygoodbye.com
Dear Annie,
I find it hard to believe that you have been gone for so long. Almost four months. One season. It feels like an eternity. Knowing that there will be many more seasons without you and that time moves so slow – it’s hard to swallow.
You love the summer. Wearing those cute little sundresses and sandals. Going to Winneconne to sit out on the dock in the blistering heat. Rolling down to Bar Louie and Jappnica to get food. The disability pride parade. Starbucks to buy hot coffee on a hot day.
It’ll never happen again.
You’ll never get on the L and come pick me up at Union again. And I’ll never be able to come over and eat tator tots on your tray table and make a mess. I’ll never be able to plea with you to befriend the cute neighbor girl.
I’ll have to meet my own neighbor girl.
I can ramble for hours about all the things you won’t do. The things I won’t do. The way the world has been flipped upside down without you. How different my world is now.
I don’t really have to tell you. You knew that you were a big deal. You knew that you were something special to a lot of people. Or at lease I hope you did.
I haven’t cried or had nightmares in probably a month. I used to have this reoccuring dream that you faked your own death and that it was all one big joke to you. I’d wake up thinking wow, what a horrible nightmare that was thinking that you had left – I’d wake up wanting to celebrate your awesomeness with you. Applauding you for putting us through all that hell. Totally your style to pull something so dramatic off without a hitch.
But no. No. You’re still gone.
Why are you gone though?. It wasn’t your time. No it wasn’t. If you asked me even a day before who I thought would go first, me or you – I’d bet the house on myself. You were so healthy, vibrant, full of life. Loud with love.
It makes me absolutely sick thinking about what they did to you. How they treated you. How little most of them cared. I know you know. You told me. But why didn’t you scream louder?
I look back and I see all the signs and all the obvious pleas for help. Why didn’t I take you out of that hell, fight for you harder, figure out the puzzle behind your pain?
I have to live with the thought everyday that this didn’t have to happen, that you didn’t have to go on your journey. That it was very preventable, if not by others but by me. It might not sound logical to our family and friends, but to me it is clear.
I was supposed to keep you safe – I’m writing you to tell you I tried, and to ask for your forgiveness. And if you can give me that then I can live with the nightmares and these thoughts. And if you can give me that I can live with remembering my last mental image of you and the last words you muttered…
That being said, I don’t want you worrying about me. Or anyone else for that matter. I don’t think you would blame anyone and I know that these thoughts are normal considering what has happened.
The last few weeks have been much more serene, bittersweet wavering towards the sweet. I’m coming to terms with my new life, not completely but enough to stop the horrible images and thoughts and nightmares from finishing after they start.
You’ve almost given me a new life. Well, you have. New because it’s different. And if anyone in this world taught me anything about handling adversity and turning it into positivity – it was you. Both before and now. But now you don’t even have to waste your breath. It’s happening on it’s own.
There’s so much I want to do. For you, but for myself too.
I’m on this trip right now. Maybe you know. It’s not much different than the one that you are on yourself. You are moving on to find a new being, maybe into nothingness. Maybe there is a heaven and you are watching over me. Maybe the eastern world is spot on and you are in the shape of a turtle in the Colorado River. Maybe you were just a moment in time. I’m just a moment and we had a grand collision like molecules apart of a larger organism. And now I’m moving on to my next collisions.
Whether the Christians, Atheists, Budhists, or any other group is more right about your current place than another, I’m empowered knowing that we are together on our transitional journeys.
I’m out on the road with some of your favorites. Joel, Steve, Bill, and little Hugo. We are out on this grand journey across the western US to sprinkle your ashes. Of course we are doing this for ourselves too. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity for many people, and a never occuring opportunity for many others. We are set out to have a blast and to live for the moment. Just like you would if you were here with us.
I went to Dallas the other day. Thought about you so much in this beautiful arboretum. It was a little weird to be there with mostly dudes. Flowers trees and dudes. There was tons of hand holding and little kids running around on field trips. Then us dudes looking for the best place to illegally sprinkle you. Emily, our old friend and PA got us in for free and prepared us a picnic. It was awesome. We finally found the perfect resting place there for you. This path of hanging trees leading to huge fountains in the distance with happy children running through the water. Perfectly hidden in the shade and out of the hot sun, peaceful yet in the earshot of laughter. Steve had the honors of sprinkling you and decided he was going to leave enough to feed a small army of pigeons.
Then. Well then came Austin. We stayed with Aaron for two nights. You’ll be glad to know that he misses you dearly, and was proud to show me a photo album you made for him. He cooked us ribeye, eggs, potatoes, the works. Meal after meal he took care of us and we finally did our laundry there too. The first night we went to 6th Street to hang out with the worlds freaks.
Annie, you would love Austin and 6th street. Imagine instead of segregating people by income levels, nationalities, and sexuality into neighborhoods, they were just dumped into a 1 mile radius. Talk about a sociological examination of sub-cultures. You were in my backpack in your resting place, but I have to imagine you were in heaven. I mean, the minute we rolled out of the van a drunk guy fell in front of me with a six inch blade ready to battle someone. The cops then quickly tackled him. A block of hip hop and thug life to wade through, then came the prostitutes and homeless. A ragged looking braless lady using a walker was peddling for change strolled by me and then Aaron was bothered by a bum selling magazines. On rejecting the sales pitch, Aaron was called the N word and then argued with the guy that it was poor usage of the term since he is actually a Texas honkey. Then we went through a street of college frat bars, with pizza places every 3rd bar and concert venue every 5th. Band dudes everywhere. It wasn’t long until we found a watering hole for the evening. An Irish pub owned by an actual Irishman. He was bouncing off the walls and mostly on something artificial and non-alcoholic. Every Katy Perry wannabe seemed to frequent this place. I then met this adorable girl maned martha who was sporting a hair-do and outfit you would probably have right now if able. We chatted it up a little, and in my new annie fashion I had her feeding me beer and offering me free lunch at her restaurant. Unfortunately we didn’t wake up early enough to get the free meal, but also in Annie fashion I gave her our web address. Maybe she’ll find us on the interweb. Then on the way to the car Aaron bought a performance from a struggling musician with a piece of pepperoni pizza. He wasn’t that good but it was just one of those moments. Life was among us.
Then the next day Aaron took us to this amazing river where Steve and I got into a kayak being tugboated behind Aaron. It ruled. The other dudes rented a canoe and we all went out to find you a place in the water. We quickly found one and Aaron said some nice words. Then he quipped that it probably was not the best place since he wants you to stay in Austin with him and you’ll be in the Gulf of Mexico by the weekend. Bon voyage. At least I got you to the Atlantic. Pacific is my next goal.
We left Aaron today and drove to meet Steves mom in San Antonio for lunch on the riverwalk. The town is rather quaint but seemed fun from my 3 hr impression today. We ate barbeque. Joel and I conserved by splitting the briskett rib and sausage combo. Annie, there’s something about this state that makes you want to eat massive amounts of meat smothered in barbeque sauce and drink beer with every meal. I also said who cares to my cuisine conservatism and ate baked beans, coke slaw, and potato salad that wasn’t Moms. Not even you would do that.
And now we are driving. We are headed to phoenix to go visit Brit and maybe Brian and check out this dry heat everyone is talking about. You should see this terrain. We have been driving for 6 hours and have gone from the flat urban centers to hills full of juniper and buch grass to plateaued rock formations and even larger hills to now a desert. We drove through a glorious storm with lightning strikes every minute and hail. The sunset lasted forever and there was a rainbow behind it. Never seen anything like it.
But I have a feeling we ain’t seen nothing yet.
I got to go. It’s just me and Steve awake. We are listening to Dr Manhattan driving through the desert on a late spring night.
Wish you were here.
Love
Stevie
P.S. I ate Sonic Tator tots in a town called Ozona. It ruled.
