Can You Spare a Dime?

I thought I was done. Recovery in process. Moving on...But the Tilt-A-Whirl does not stop. Or maybe it is more accurate to say that my mind does not let it stop.

After meeting Jen's family back in August 2020, I had been reflecting on the visit. The soul crushing sadness is gone. Replaced by a low-level sadness, sure. But I think that I needed confirmation that the person I knew was really the person others knew her as too. I was afraid that the two would not be the same, that I was elevating, romanticizing, a connection that was not there or real. Not really interacting with people she knew, I didn't know if they knew the same person. The meeting was good to me in this regard. Confirmation was obtained. Her family brought up memories that were in sync with mine. I was able to answer questions that they had. And they answered many of my questions. I was able to add to back stories, share our single 'date'. It was new information for them, perhaps a little shocking to her Mother, but satisfying to her sister that Jen was able to pull off some typical, even rebellious, teenage shenanigans. The meeting was sufficient to put those concerns to rest. It felt like the door was closing, I had a feeling of peace, healing, and closure could set in and I could move on. I even 'received' a dime at the QuikTrip afterwards, my sign from Jen that she was there, and perhaps smiling.

It seems comical now that I would doubt my relationship and connection to the 'real Jen', but in isolation and after this many years, a mind can play cruel tricks. I was even starting to come to a realization that I may not have been the person for her (if a long term Jen were to have existed), no matter how much I loved her. I just would not have been the person that could have gotten her to her dreams and potential. The funny thing is, by and large, I think I'm okay with it. And in a way that I never would have been back then, if she had to have told me. Intellectually, I know the what-if's are fruitless...yet I still find myself deep in that hole. The recent change that I am starting to come to grips with, even if the accident didn't happen, 'we' may not have happened...or if I did somehow will it to happen, it may have ended poorly. Maybe it is a closure thing in my mind. That she was ripped away and closure (good or bad) never happened. But the more I play with the idea, the more the realization comes that, despite my level of love, I am not sure that the final outcome would have been good. And yeah, that would have sucked, but it would have also been such a disservice to her.

So my emotions began to settle down, for about a month. Then in late September, guess who was calling me in my dreams? What the fuck is wrong with my noggin? I seriously feel done, over it. Sadness has left the building. Why can't my unconscious come for the ride? In the dream, I even told her that I was done. Over it. Seriously, it's okay. She calls me back crying? WTF?!?! I got the confirmation that I was searching for. As much closure as can be expected. What the hell is left, what is my mind still searching for? Is it now just a long, drawn out ache from a hole in my soul? Does this wound ever heal? It has been 30+ years and I still have not figured it out. I have a sneaking suspicion that I never will. And the dimes stopped appearing...

Did I chase her away? Damage the memory or the relationship? With a dead person??? I am sorry! That is not what I meant to do. But I feel like I hurt her...her ghost. I want the dimes back. The gentle reminders, Jen popping into situations and saying, "Hi!", or sometimes even scolding me.

Why do I continue to be drawn towards stories or movies or songs of sadness? Is that the only emotion that I think that I have left to feel? I'm tired of feeling that weight, yet I continue down a path of emotional torment and destruction. Do I feel guilty for feeling happiness? Am I trying to feel other emotions and the only thing that I can muster is sadness? I started re-watching "13 Reasons Why" after my daughter heard the song "The Night We Met" on my playlist and asked, "Depressed much?" I had no idea what she was talking about. She mentioned that it was from the show and I couldn't remember it in there. As I continued to watch the show, it all seemed fresh, like I had never watched it the first time around. When the song came up in the first season, it hit me hard. When it started playing in the second season (which I was less prepared for), I was a blubbering mess. As I watch the series this second time, it was different. I was watching, searching, for a roadmap forward that would help me navigate my feelings. As if I could get guidance from Clay on how to proceed forward, through the loss, even though the death of Hannah and of Jen were very different, the shocking and abrupt loss was similar. Sadly, it did not satisfy those curiosities and no solution was obtained.

I am left with torment and loneliness. Silly, self-inflicted. I feel abandoned by Jen, but at my own doing. And no clear path towards resolution. I ask for her to return, but why? Wouldn't this continue my torture? Did she leave because I hurt her with my statements that I was done and over it? Or does she think that this is best for me? Is it? I am slowly descending into madness, asking for a ghost or spirit or angel to return. One that I told to go away...but I miss it. I miss her!

Why? I have a great family! Some good friends. What is missing that I need? A connection? Or some sort of an answer (and to what question)? So tired...of hurting. Of aching. Of being stuck.

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Meeting the Family

The meet-up happened!  

Of course, it went even better than I expected.  Intellectually, I knew it would.  Emotionally, I was shaking in my boots.  Jennifer’s sister has always been incredibly open, warm, encouraging, and welcoming.  There was no reason to expect any different.  However, I did start to experience Dallas’ devious (in a fun way) nature.  She mentioned that she had invited her Mom to the meet-up, and had let me know.  Honestly, that made me nervous.  As I mentioned in the last entry, I had not had direct interactions with her…ever.  Not sure how to adequately describe the nervousness.  It was not fear, I didn’t think she was going to yell at me or anything like that.  Perhaps it was the 30+ years of hard-wiring in my head to not cause harm, hurt, or emotional distress on Jen’s parents; they had their child stolen away and I can not imagine a greater hurt.  We enter the cemetery and navigate towards the area where Jennifer is.  There are 3 cars and 5 ladies waiting for us!  Her sister invited her aunts too!  Another car with an aunt and uncle rolls up as we are exiting our vehicle.  A half-circle of family forms around me, with my daughter abandoning me off to the side.  A video call was added to include another aunt!  A round of “Hi”s and introductions and then straight to the meat of the discussion…Who are you and how did you know Jennifer?  They want the details!  Wow!  Stress…

In all fairness, they were extremely nice and welcoming, even from the start.  Dallas (Jennifer’s Sister) confessed that she could sense my nervousness, so she just omitted the fact (playfully and deviously) that all of the family was coming.  Was probably a smart move on her part!  As the story unfolds, due to the ages of all of the aunts (being younger sisters of Jen’s Mom), they were like big sisters to Jennifer and had a tight connection.  After the accident, they stepped in and were active in helping raising Jennifer’s two (much) younger sisters.  They were very ingrained into the family, before and after.  Through the three hours we ultimately spent together, you could tell that they were closer than what I would describe as a typical Aunt-Niece relationship.

I start off with how we met, and how the relationship formed.  The endless hours on the phone together (their memories begin the endless agreements of recollection) and the dynamic of how our relationship was a connection of just us, the single point of connection of our social circles.  The phone leads to memories of other items in her room, the Hard Rock Teddy Bear that I had given her comes up.  I offer the back story of this item, how it was the only souvenir that I had returned from New York City with.  The desire, even deterministic expectation, that she would become the first woman president.  Inside, I start to feel relief.  A long-standing question in my mind, was this a far-flung whimsy that was only shared with me, or something that she believed, even was working towards?  Confirmation that this was discussed with everyone else elevates it from flight of fancy to a key mechanism in who she was.  It also starts the confirmation process in my mind that I did actual know her.  Silly, perhaps, but after this many years of only telling stories to people that had not met her, my own mind has beaten me up with the possibility that I did not even know the Real Jennifer.

I mention that the forcefulness of some of her demands still compel me not to participate in certain activities.  They demand to know more, what activities?  It gets tricky.  These are people that I have just met.  People that are held in high regard in my eyes.  I do not want to let them down, but I also do not want to dive into more deviant and illegal activities, for fear of judgement.  I try to dodge, but ultimately am coerced into spilling the beans.  LSD.  Jen was adamant that I never take acid.  She had mentioned some stories about it staying in your system and causing permanent craziness.  I thought that it was horseshit, but at the time, she was so forceful, so insistent, that I did not press the issue too far or too long.  They all started nodding in agreement and understanding, she had a cousin that this did in fact happen to, so the fear she had was very much close to their family.  New (more complete) information.  More stories are exchanged.  Laughter.  Tears.  Hugs.

I bring up the encounter with the medium.  Figure that if I haven’t shocked them with the LSD story, then anything is fair game.  They are surprisingly onboard.  I tell of the shifts in thinking that the medium had suggested, that I might need to forgive Jennifer for walking across the Rainbow Bridge, and that meeting my wife so shortly after was a gift from Jennifer.  They seemed to understand the forgiveness angle (and had likely had to travel that path themselves).  They all liked, and latched on to, the idea of the gift.  I filled in details surrounding meeting my wife and how my thoughts of it happening because of the accident had caused serious conflict within me.  The idea of a gift was ratified.

As we move through the various stories and comparing notes, I get to the single date that we had.  WHAT?!?  These ladies we are new to me, so I wasn’t quite sure on the facial expressions and body language, but there seemed to be some shock (and perhaps delight from her sister).  Later texts with Dallas seemed to confirm my read of the situation.  Apparently, Jennifer never told her parents she was going on a date.  Out with friends perhaps, or whatever else a teenager can conjure up to get out of the house with minimal parental resistance.  I do seem to recall that when I arrived that Jennifer bolted out the house door and into the vehicle.  I didn’t think anything of it at the time, why would I?  She was in my car and I was happy with that.  So, as I let this story unfold, I see her Mom’s face, a combination of confusion, wonder, and shock.  As I look around, Dallas seems almost giddy.  This is the first sign of ‘non-typical’ emotion for this kind of meeting.  I hurry through, brain still hard-wired to do no harm.  Follow-up texts with Dallas, that were about other specifics, and she confirms that her parents had no idea that Jen was going on a date, and Dallas was somewhat happy that her sister was able to pull off some ‘standard’ teenage rebellion tactics and enjoy some of the rights of passage that teens navigate.  More stories are bounced back and forth.  Laughter.  Tears.  Hugs.

I had stopped at the grocery store on the way and purchased a few roses, a white one that I had given her Mother upon meeting, a yellow one, given to Dallas upon arrival, and a red one for Jen’s tombstone.  All through these stories, the red one is my shield.  I am waving it around as an extension of my arm when talking and grasping it with both hands when listening, its thorns pricking me as a reminder to place it.  I suggest it is time to place the rose and we all begin to move towards the grave.  It is a location that I could pinpoint on a map, point to from 30,000 feet above, but as I turn to go there, I am lost, wandering.  Dallas points me in the right direction.  The mass of people divides into two groups, one with me, one with my daughter.  I can only imagine that they are peppering her with questions to understand me, or our family better.

Aunt Patty is the main person around me.  We talk through a multitude of stories, some off topic (of Jen specifically), but still therapeutic.  We stumble back to the medium and belief in their abilities to connect.  She talks about ‘gifts’ left behind by those that walk the Rainbow Bridge (my term).  I share the thought that Jen leaves dimes for me to find in some of the most random locations.  It feels like she is saying “Hi”, or sometimes scolding me even.  Whenever I find one on the ground somewhere, I stop to pick it up and reply back “Hi Jen”.

Aunt Patty mentions that she spends no time at the grave-sites of those she has lost, until today.  It is just too hard.  Yet we are close to three hours in.  She mentions that this meeting has been very therapeutic, even cleansing.  I feel happy that I could help get her to this point.  The two groups regather as one as she is saying goodbyes.  Somehow we get on the topic of talking about doing things and then never getting around to actually doing them.  This sparks the memories of talking about skydiving with Jennifer.  Some of the family had gone skydiving.  I share stories about how Jennifer and I would talk at length about jumping.  We were locked in, we were going to go after she turned 18 and didn’t need the parental waiver, or just a general rule of the diving school for no one under 18.  That these were plans that never had the opportunity to be completed.  That life happens after we make grand plans.  And that I did jump twice, one for each of us.

The sun is going down (are we going to be locked in the cemetery?).  We say our goodbyes and leave.  My daughter and I still have about an hour drive to Kansas City for our hotel.  After we exit the Turnpike, our hotel is on a street off to the left.  I miss the turn.  Looking down the road a little, I see a QuikTrip.  Good!  I can stop there and get a soda for the night and then we can turn around to get on the correct side road.  Walking out of the QuikTrip, there is a dime on the ground…Yeah, it was a good meetup, Jen.

In the days/weeks following the get together, I am surprised how my thoughts and feelings are seeming to shift.  If I start to think about Jennifer now, sure, there is still some sadness that she is not alive, but it is no longer the soul-crushing grief that it used to be.  There is a growing acceptance, even smiles at the good memories and the reaffirmation that I knew her.  Who would have guessed that, even after 30+ years, meeting with her family was ultimately what I would have needed to get over it.  I feel silly at the simplicity…

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Upcoming - Meeting Jennifer's Family…Very Nervous

So fast forward to mid-2020.  Dreams with Jennifer still occur, at an approximate monthly rate.  The emotional impact is not as debilitating as in previous months.  There is still this nagging notion that there is a message that needs to be transferred.  Still don't know what the message is or if I am delivering or receiving the message, just that there is a message.  Then it happens that I have an excuse to go through Topeka, to possibly meet Jennifer’s sister.  In our last conversations, she mentioned that if I ever came through town to give her a shout.

Backstory – ‘Therapy’ Generates New Perspectives

A couple months ago, I went for a massage.  My back had been hurting and I needed more than just the pills.  The masseuse also happened to be a medium (able to talk to spirits).  Conversation bounced around a little and then Jennifer came up.  The medium gave me a couple of interesting nuggets to chew upon.

At first the topic of forgiveness came up.  I am thinking, “Yes, I have heard this all before.”  But I didn’t feel the need for forgiveness…I didn’t cause the accident, I wasn’t there, couldn’t have done something different to prevent it…I am not asking for forgiveness.  The medium, innocently, asked, “What about forgiving her for the accident?”  WOW!  Such a simple shift of perspective.  So simple, but it has eluded me for so long.  Definitely an angle that needs exploration but has the potential to be very liberating.  I am working through this currently.  How to forgive in general, how to forgive someone that is no longer here, how to forgive such a big event.

The next nugget was the medium saying that meeting Tammy (my wife, we met very shortly after Jen’s accident) was a gift from Jennifer.  Again, mind blown.  I have spent years almost feeling guilty that Tammy, my family, and all the good and joy from family would have never happened without the accident.  Feeling guilty that the accident had to occur for all the beginning events in my family to fall into place.  That I am benefiting from enormous joy and good fortune from such a horrific event.  This simple shift in thinking explains (and better) that there is no need to feel guilty.  As a gift from Jennifer, it feels like she is reaching out to take care of me and make sure I can navigate life fully.  A life altering gift that can never be repaid.

Backstory – Reason for the Trip

My daughter has turned 16, driver’s license time, and purchasing a car.  She knows that I used to race (mostly autocross) and tend towards the extreme speed side of the equation on the highways.  It has her interest piqued.  She desires to know how to drive, yes, but even more the speed bug is surfacing.  She wants to race, or at least autocross.  She is excited at the notion of rebuilding my race car and get it back on the track.  I think that she envisions herself in that driver’s seat too, despite having purchased a sports car herself.  She has just the right amount of crazy in her personality to get to the razor’s edge.  I have noticed early enough to bang into her head the mantra that speed, racing, ‘craziness’ in a car is fine in CONTROLLED ENVIRONMENTS…the track, with safety equipment, like minded drivers that are more predictable (less likely to brake check you out of mindless spite, etc.), room for mistakes, and have limited participants.  I have started looking for drivers’ events to get her experience and training in car control at the extreme limits.  Typically focused towards younger drivers and teaching what messing up feels like but in an environment that allows those mistakes to happen and what to do to correct the situations.  I have explained these events as prerequisite courses to the actual autocross classes that will follow.

Setting Up the Meeting

A spot in one of these prerequisite classes opens up in Kansas City.  We will be going right past Topeka, so why not stop for a quick grave site visit?  I text Jen’s sister, letting her know that we will be stopping by, did she want to meet up for a quick visit?  She seems enthusiastic about the opportunity.  She invites her Mom!  So nervous!

Not afraid, just nervous.  My mind has been hard wired (and maybe incorrectly) for so long to 'Do No Harm' in regards to this family (from a position of respect and reverence), and if I even thought something could cause pain then don't do it, combined with my embarrassment of handling it incorrectly in just about every way.  I admit, it is strange that someone connected to Jen, but basically unknown to the family, would come out of the shadows so many years later.  Jennifer’s sister has been very welcoming in our conversations over the past couple years, but my interactions with the rest of the family have still been very closed off.  Scared and embarrassed by the way I handled it, and for so long.  Meeting ‘Mom’ just feels like I am going to have to deal with, explain, all of the mistakes and the ways I reacted.  My actions (or inactions, as it were) were made with intentions of good or at least to minimize emotional hurt.  It is just that they were not necessarily the right actions, very isolating, and missed the target of healing.

So, meeting the family tomorrow…all evidence from previous conversations suggest that this will be a wonderful adventure.  Perhaps even healing.  So why am I so nervous?  Am I (purposefully) picking at the scab of a wound that just will not heal?  Sometimes I think that the concept of phantom limb pain explains it well.  It hurts, but I don't want to take pills to make the pain to away.  The limb is gone, but there is such a desire for it to be present that even a sensation of pain where the missing limb is supposed to be is welcomed, wanted.  Tomorrow will tell.

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Relationship Paradox

I had a good talk with my father a couple of weeks ago. One of those deep and meaningful conversations that kinda sneak up on you, where you look back and cherish it for the deepness and intimacy that occurred. I think that I may have shocked him when I said that I don’t really like people. Sounds harsh, doesn’t it? It is not really meant to come off as harsh or stand off-ish, perhaps it is just that I have difficulty relating to people. I grew up as an only child with a rather small extended family. I may not have learned to relate as well as others. Anyway, my father is the type of person that would talk to a tree. He enjoys the interaction and the stories and, well, I am not really sure what else, but I am confident that he likes people. One of the reasons that it shocked him is that he has seen me mess with someone’s head and I guess thought that I must love people since I mess with them so much. I thought that it was a bit of an odd conclusion, but maybe he is on to something. Kind of like when you are in grade school and you pick on the girl that you really secretly like because it at least gives you the opportunity to be around that person.

The ironic thing is that, recently, I have an increasing desire for relationships, the desire to connect with others. It even spans into the spiritual realm, as the church that I have begun attending emphasizes having a Relationship with God, and the pastor just recently had a sermon talking about how people were designed to be relationship based beings. The internal battle that I face is that I just don’t have the patience to deal with people. Maybe it is better said that I have zero tolerance for stupid, or distaste for imperfection (like I could aspire to my own high standards?). I have a strong perfectionistic streak that translates into a very black-and-white way of seeing the world. Perhaps it is the way I develop relationships, as I tend to have fewer friends but with much deeper connections. It takes a while to peel back the layers of me, but why? Am I afraid of being hurt, or rejected? On the surface it does not seem that these answers would hold true…but…maybe.

I remember, in school days, being the person that people could talk to about their problems or issues. I was kind of like a psychologist wannabe. I thought that it was generally because I listened and maybe, occasionally, I could offer advice or at least talk through the next steps of action with the person. (Playing chess on a human scale? I mean, I do love games and strategy.) While I could talk with people of many different cliques, I was never really attached to one. Perhaps people liked being able to talk to someone where they were not worried about the issue coming back to haunt them within their circle of friends, an outsider. I reserved judgment, and did not repeat the stories that I was told. At the time, I thought that this situation was cool, I had connections within most of the groups, but I was not committed to any one group. It is a recurring theme that defines me more and more as I examine it. I am also beginning to think that it is a copout, as I have a good working knowledge of so many things without having to commit to any particular specialization where I may not succeed or be the best, a defense mechanism as it were.

Other examples:

• I am weird, but intentionally, and probably more for shock value. Am I trying to gauge a person’s tolerance, their accepting nature, playing with them to see their reaction, or am I trying to brace myself for a rejection of who I am? They didn’t really reject the real me, just the weirdo me…

• I am smart, but most people that know me have heard me claim, “I am the stupidest smart-person that you will ever meet.” Is this truly, as I believe, that I can just take tests really well, that I can memorize and regurgitate information without having any real ability to think (the whole ‘there is no original thought’ concept belongs here, but that will have to be another post)? Or I am just trying to escape from the responsibility of being smart, trying not to disappoint when I fail at something intellectually, or if I am beaten intellectually?

• I have taken personality tests that define your type across four dimensions of personality, the result was that I am an INTJ, one of the rarer types. But deeper examination of the results shows a very middle of the road set of scores across all four dimensions. Even my personality is non-committal! One or two answers differently and I have a completely different personality.

So now what? If these conclusions are correct, of my aversion to relationships being caused by a fear of failing or of being rejected, what do I do about it? Is failing or being rejected REALLY that scary? What is really the worst that would happen if I fail or am rejected? (I mean, it has happened before and did not kill me.) More importantly, how do I guide my children down a different path so that they are more open to relationships and liking others? How does a self-identified do-it-yourself’er get help with overcoming these fears and develop more relationships? When my daughter recently started asking questions about Jesus, we started going to church. I had no business teaching her about God and Jesus, but I knew where to go for help. Where does someone go for help in learning about relationships, trusting and accepting others, committing whole-heartedly, failing with grace and accepting that it will happen?

How is it that I can get this far into the question and not develop the answer? I must really be the stupidest smart-person that I will ever meet…

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