Sunday, October 12, 2008
7. The Sound of Rain
3/08/08 3:51 PM
First, the "pit-pat" of the first few drops. Then, as the mist forms and the rain pick ups, the "pit-pats" run closer together and form a sort of "datatatadatatada". But then it forms a fine "hisssssss" as the mist shrouds the sky and the trees and the street. The tires make a "fwwiiiiiish-splash" as the cars make their way down 6th Avenue. But always the hissssss.
All is grey. The future is blocked by the mist. One day at a time. I hated that show. I thought Schneider was funny, though. One day at a time. No dreams. No hopes. Just be home by 3.
Music is meaningless. Music is painful. To see others in love burns my eyes. To see others with newborns tears my soul. To watch others hold hands makes my fingers ache and fall off. To see them kiss...
Everything means nothing. My life is over. I live only for the boys. I am dead already. Be home by 3. Don't dream, don't hope. Their lives begin. Mine is ended.
I can hear the fine hisssss of the rain. And I am so very goddamn motherfuckin' lonely. I miss her and love her forever.
May you never know the anguish I know. Nobody should know this.
3/13/08 10:22 PM
I want to thank you all.
Especially the Lawrinson Crew. I think God had me go to that reunion for a reason. If it had not been for your support, material, spiritual, emotional, I don't know how (or if) I could get through this. 3 months. Feels like 3 minutes. I hope the next reunion is in Boston. I would love for you to see both my boys. I truly regret not bringing Debbie to June's house for the first reunion. We both thought at the time that it would be best for Ramiro. I could not have been more wrong. I've been wrong about a lot of things.
I hope and pray to one day love again. She would have wanted that for me. Let me tell you something about this wonderful selfless woman. Shortly after Ramiro was born, Debbie was taking birth control shots. I was concerned with all those chemicals in her system. I told her I would get a vasectomy; 2 kids was enough. She said "absolutely not!" I asked why. She said "If something happens to me, I want you to get remarried, and that woman might want a child by you." "Deb, what woman would have me?" She said "I chose you!"
Who else would say that? I told her "the day you die is the day I die." It sure feels like it.
The boys are well. Doing good in school.
Thank you all again. God bless you. Keep us in your prayers.
I hope to live again. I hope to laugh again. I hope to love again.
3/14/08 3:42 PM
I am where I was; in agony. It hurts to smile. Can't even try. Panic attacks. Endless crying. And I mean serious bawling and weeping. Wishing I was dead, not her. Can't eat. Need work. Need money. Clean house. Wash clothes. Don't forget to bathe. Dammit to fucking hell I want my wife! I want A wife. I have no vision. I only see my slow march to death. I am smothered by thoughts I want to share. We had an active sex life; now I am suddenly celibate after 22 years. I hate myself. I am dead inside. She was the only one foolish enough to have me. Look at me. What woman would have me? I have nothing but my love to give. Love, devotion, caring. These things have no value for most women. No one would ever choose me. It's over.
6. Every Leaf, Every Shadow...
3/4/08 10:08 PM
People say I am strong. I sure don't feel it. I feel like I'm gonna lose it any second. People say I'm doing a good job. I make so many mistakes, I forget to do things like laundry or proper grocery shopping. So tired. How do you fight the god-forsaken loneliness? God I wish I could burn out certain portions of my brain. I walk around, and everything is her. To go to the library, I have to pass the kiddie park where she and I took our babies for their first steps. Go to West 4th and pass the McDonalds we always took the kids to. I wish I could leave this place. Every leaf, every shadow. I am so weak. My oldest tries so hard to cheer me up, to make me stronger. He's something special. Even little guy is trying to pull his wieght as best he can.
I started therapy last week.
I hope to laugh again. I hope to live again. I hope to love again
3/7/08 10:32 PM
(Kim had lost her beloved husband to illness. She helped me a great deal.)
You really loved him.
To have a true soulmate is a wonderful thing. So many have so much, yet not love. They marry or pair up for empty reasons, then wonder why it's not working and get divorced. True love; a gift from God.
There was no "romance" in the Gilmore Girl sense. We loved each other. When she gave me the "old tomato" (ultimatum, just a couple of months before we found out she was pregnant), I realized I could not live without her. It would have been like cutting off my own leg. I needed her.
Was it the same for you?
I did something today I hadn't done in years. I went to church.
I walk around reciting the Our Father for strength. On the way to the supermarket I passed by Our Lady of Pompeii. I was a little shaky and went in to calm down. It was the 12 o'clock mass, and as I walked in, the priest was leading the people in reciting the Our Father. Wow.
I can't tell you how uplifted I feel when I get an e-mail from you.
People say I am strong. I sure don't feel it. I feel like I'm gonna lose it any second. People say I'm doing a good job. I make so many mistakes, I forget to do things like laundry or proper grocery shopping. So tired. How do you fight the god-forsaken loneliness? God I wish I could burn out certain portions of my brain. I walk around, and everything is her. To go to the library, I have to pass the kiddie park where she and I took our babies for their first steps. Go to West 4th and pass the McDonalds we always took the kids to. I wish I could leave this place. Every leaf, every shadow. I am so weak. My oldest tries so hard to cheer me up, to make me stronger. He's something special. Even little guy is trying to pull his wieght as best he can.
I started therapy last week.
I hope to laugh again. I hope to live again. I hope to love again
3/7/08 10:32 PM
(Kim had lost her beloved husband to illness. She helped me a great deal.)
You really loved him.
To have a true soulmate is a wonderful thing. So many have so much, yet not love. They marry or pair up for empty reasons, then wonder why it's not working and get divorced. True love; a gift from God.
There was no "romance" in the Gilmore Girl sense. We loved each other. When she gave me the "old tomato" (ultimatum, just a couple of months before we found out she was pregnant), I realized I could not live without her. It would have been like cutting off my own leg. I needed her.
Was it the same for you?
I did something today I hadn't done in years. I went to church.
I walk around reciting the Our Father for strength. On the way to the supermarket I passed by Our Lady of Pompeii. I was a little shaky and went in to calm down. It was the 12 o'clock mass, and as I walked in, the priest was leading the people in reciting the Our Father. Wow.
I can't tell you how uplifted I feel when I get an e-mail from you.
5. Peace is A Dream
1/29/08 12:41 AM
I don't like being referred to as single. I was with the same woman for 22 years. Half my life. The days go by, and the pain gets worse, not better. The pain is so great, I feel like I am going to be consumed. I am paranoid; I feel like people are watching me, waiting for me to mess up. I'm so tired. Weeping, weeping, weeping. Be strong for the boys. Who will be strong for me? I am alone. No equal to hug and hold. Who will laugh at my stupid jokes? Playing handball against the ocean. Fear and terror. One day at a time? What about our dreams and hopes? Should I give those up, or try to build the life she would have wanted for us? We made decisions together; we'd bounce things off each other, listen to each other, hear something from the one that the other hadn't thought of. Me alone? Everything could blow sky high.
Kim, tell me those books again? I am so lost. I'm so tired. So tired. And tortured. Haunted. Full of fear and regret. So much regret. Killing me from the inside. 4 hours not enough sleep. What happened? Where's my wife? Why Lord did she have to go? Why didn't you take me instead of my sweetie? I would trade my soul for her life. How ca n I go forward. Forgiveness. Penance. Atonement. These things elude me. Peace is a dream. Endless tears. Pure anguish. Suffer suffer suffer. Sleep only delays the pain. Free me from this.
2/27/08 12:45 AM
I wish I could say I was doing better. I feel dead inside. I have no more dreams, no more hopes. My life is over. I live only for my sons. I'm like a robot. Get home by 3. Obey primary programming.
Not enough time to sleep or eat. Got some freelance work, but have to fight with Ramiro for the computer. Then gotta cook, clean, laundry, go to appointments, shop get what they need come home do homework cook feed them get to bed. Have no time for laundry. Have no time for me.
Everything that used to make me laugh now makes me cry. It hurts to smile. Sometimes I want to die. I know, the boys. I want to laugh again, I want to live again, I want to love again! We had a wonderful sex life. I don't want to shut down!
So tired. So lonely!
2/27/08 6:08 PM
I am so fucking lonely, I am going nuts!
There, I said it! I'm tired of trying to be strong. I'm exhausted. I can't keep up this pace. I'm tired of being admired and told I'm doing a good job under the circumstances. I miss her kisses. I ache for her hugs. I scream for her smiles. I long for her scent. I feel like I'm in solitary confinement. No equal to talk to, no companion to debate with, no lover to share intimacy with. I'm dyin' over here. Trying to hold it together is like trying to hug an inflatable raft to keep it from expanding. I see nothing. I feel dead inside, slowly. Terrible loneliness. I know Kim, read the books. Sorry to let ya down, but even Superman had Kryptonite.
I started therapy last week. Everything that used to make me laugh makes me cry. Everything that made her laugh makes me cry more. I loved her so deeply. My angel. God, you did it for Job. Do it for me.
So tired; can't sleep. So hungry; can't eat. This is some ride.
I don't like being referred to as single. I was with the same woman for 22 years. Half my life. The days go by, and the pain gets worse, not better. The pain is so great, I feel like I am going to be consumed. I am paranoid; I feel like people are watching me, waiting for me to mess up. I'm so tired. Weeping, weeping, weeping. Be strong for the boys. Who will be strong for me? I am alone. No equal to hug and hold. Who will laugh at my stupid jokes? Playing handball against the ocean. Fear and terror. One day at a time? What about our dreams and hopes? Should I give those up, or try to build the life she would have wanted for us? We made decisions together; we'd bounce things off each other, listen to each other, hear something from the one that the other hadn't thought of. Me alone? Everything could blow sky high.
Kim, tell me those books again? I am so lost. I'm so tired. So tired. And tortured. Haunted. Full of fear and regret. So much regret. Killing me from the inside. 4 hours not enough sleep. What happened? Where's my wife? Why Lord did she have to go? Why didn't you take me instead of my sweetie? I would trade my soul for her life. How ca n I go forward. Forgiveness. Penance. Atonement. These things elude me. Peace is a dream. Endless tears. Pure anguish. Suffer suffer suffer. Sleep only delays the pain. Free me from this.
2/27/08 12:45 AM
I wish I could say I was doing better. I feel dead inside. I have no more dreams, no more hopes. My life is over. I live only for my sons. I'm like a robot. Get home by 3. Obey primary programming.
Not enough time to sleep or eat. Got some freelance work, but have to fight with Ramiro for the computer. Then gotta cook, clean, laundry, go to appointments, shop get what they need come home do homework cook feed them get to bed. Have no time for laundry. Have no time for me.
Everything that used to make me laugh now makes me cry. It hurts to smile. Sometimes I want to die. I know, the boys. I want to laugh again, I want to live again, I want to love again! We had a wonderful sex life. I don't want to shut down!
So tired. So lonely!
2/27/08 6:08 PM
I am so fucking lonely, I am going nuts!
There, I said it! I'm tired of trying to be strong. I'm exhausted. I can't keep up this pace. I'm tired of being admired and told I'm doing a good job under the circumstances. I miss her kisses. I ache for her hugs. I scream for her smiles. I long for her scent. I feel like I'm in solitary confinement. No equal to talk to, no companion to debate with, no lover to share intimacy with. I'm dyin' over here. Trying to hold it together is like trying to hug an inflatable raft to keep it from expanding. I see nothing. I feel dead inside, slowly. Terrible loneliness. I know Kim, read the books. Sorry to let ya down, but even Superman had Kryptonite.
I started therapy last week. Everything that used to make me laugh makes me cry. Everything that made her laugh makes me cry more. I loved her so deeply. My angel. God, you did it for Job. Do it for me.
So tired; can't sleep. So hungry; can't eat. This is some ride.
4. I wish I could forgive myself...
1/12/08 10:12 AM
You all have been so kind to me and my boys. This is a horrible time for us. The boys are strong, but I don't know if I will ever get over this. I loved my wife Debbie more than sunshine itself. But when I look back on our life together, all I can see are my screw-ups, my selfishness, my ego. I try to think of the good happy things, but what comes to mind is remorse. Remorse for not being a better man, a better husband, a better father. I took the worries of the world onto my shoulders, and lost sight of the bigger picture. I let the frustrations and problems and fears get to me, and I would get cross and angry. When I vented my angers to her, she took it. Later, I'd come back on my knees, begging her forgiveness. She'd hug me and kiss me, and say "I forgive you, stupid!" She was the greatest treasure ever bestowed, and I squandered it. She was Marge to my Homer, Alice to my Ralph Kramden. She stood with me through thick and thin, good and bad, better and worse. Any other woman would have left me long ago. And I told her that. She would say "Do you hear me complaining? I'm not going anywhere." Or "I'm still here, ain't I?"
And now she's gone. Lord forgive me for waisting the greatest gift in the universe.
And you. Old college friends I haven't seen in 25 years. Former employers. New friends. How ironic. You gave me and my boys support. You reached into your pockets for us. The irony? Nobody in my own family sent us even a single dime! When I asked, I was turned down. Wowzers. A guy I worked for for 6 months shows up to the funeral and gives us $200. Not one blood relative of mine showed up. I have 3 sisters, and I have yet to hear from 2 of them. I have grown nieces in New Jersey, but everyone is "too busy" to visit me or let me bring the boys to visit. I have no real family to speak of. She and the boys were my family. With her at my side, I was ready to take on Satan Himself. Now, I'm terrified to go outside. Shadows frighten me.
And I weep and weep and weep. My soul is split asunder. There is a dagger the size of an oak tree in my heart. Everywhere I walk I see her face. Oh I wish I could give myself 100 lashes for every snippy cross moment. She was love incarnate upon the earth, and for some bizarre insane unfathomable reason she chose to love ME! A piece of shit like me. She was a pearl, and I was a swine. I did not deserve her. I did not earn her. I was not worthy of her. And she chose me. I prayed Jehovah to make me worthy of her. I am still not worthy. She made the world OK. Without her, I am lost, and the world is a very scary place.
The Colón Family thanks you all.
1/13/08 9:45 AM
Oh June, you are so wonderful. I wish I could forgive myself. It's just too easy. I need someone to forgive me. I'm a wreck. I have to make time to see someone, but I have to get back to work. The boys come first.
June she was so sweet. I feel like I just let her die. I should have forced her to go to the hospital. Ohhhhhhh this is all my fault! God please forgive me! I fear for my immortal soul because I have offended God. And yet it is not fear for my eternal fate that makes me remoresful. No. I feel true remorse for not making her life better. I can't move forward. I need forgiveness, and it's just too easy to forgive myself. I KNOW she would forgive me. That makes it even harder. My greatest love. I howl at the moon for her. My tears fill the Hudson River for her. My anguish rips the earth like the Grand Canyon. I wish I could FEEL in my heart that I was forgiven. I LOVED HER SO MUCH! And I sooo dreaded this scenario. I always knew one day this might happen. Maybe that was part of my problem. The stress of KNOWING that each second with her could be my last. It was killing me knowing what MIGHT happen. Now it really happened. Oh June... please "hug" me. Hold my hand. I have no partner. I am incomplete. I told her I feared dying alone if something happened to her. She said "don't worry, if something happens to me, I know you'll find someone. I know you will." I'm so scared. Who would have me, with my boys? I got too cozy after 22 years. Now I feel like dust in the wind. With her I could see the future. Now I look forward and see nothing. I wish I knew why you all care about me so much. I love you for it. You see something in me that I don't see. So did she. Ohhh I'm so scared. I'm so alone. Oh why did I not see how happy I truly was? I was happy and thought I wasn't. My heart is ripped to pieces. What a fool I am. Oh God please give me peace. Give my boys peace.
I could sure use some of those self-esteem pills....
You all have been so kind to me and my boys. This is a horrible time for us. The boys are strong, but I don't know if I will ever get over this. I loved my wife Debbie more than sunshine itself. But when I look back on our life together, all I can see are my screw-ups, my selfishness, my ego. I try to think of the good happy things, but what comes to mind is remorse. Remorse for not being a better man, a better husband, a better father. I took the worries of the world onto my shoulders, and lost sight of the bigger picture. I let the frustrations and problems and fears get to me, and I would get cross and angry. When I vented my angers to her, she took it. Later, I'd come back on my knees, begging her forgiveness. She'd hug me and kiss me, and say "I forgive you, stupid!" She was the greatest treasure ever bestowed, and I squandered it. She was Marge to my Homer, Alice to my Ralph Kramden. She stood with me through thick and thin, good and bad, better and worse. Any other woman would have left me long ago. And I told her that. She would say "Do you hear me complaining? I'm not going anywhere." Or "I'm still here, ain't I?"
And now she's gone. Lord forgive me for waisting the greatest gift in the universe.
And you. Old college friends I haven't seen in 25 years. Former employers. New friends. How ironic. You gave me and my boys support. You reached into your pockets for us. The irony? Nobody in my own family sent us even a single dime! When I asked, I was turned down. Wowzers. A guy I worked for for 6 months shows up to the funeral and gives us $200. Not one blood relative of mine showed up. I have 3 sisters, and I have yet to hear from 2 of them. I have grown nieces in New Jersey, but everyone is "too busy" to visit me or let me bring the boys to visit. I have no real family to speak of. She and the boys were my family. With her at my side, I was ready to take on Satan Himself. Now, I'm terrified to go outside. Shadows frighten me.
And I weep and weep and weep. My soul is split asunder. There is a dagger the size of an oak tree in my heart. Everywhere I walk I see her face. Oh I wish I could give myself 100 lashes for every snippy cross moment. She was love incarnate upon the earth, and for some bizarre insane unfathomable reason she chose to love ME! A piece of shit like me. She was a pearl, and I was a swine. I did not deserve her. I did not earn her. I was not worthy of her. And she chose me. I prayed Jehovah to make me worthy of her. I am still not worthy. She made the world OK. Without her, I am lost, and the world is a very scary place.
The Colón Family thanks you all.
1/13/08 9:45 AM
Oh June, you are so wonderful. I wish I could forgive myself. It's just too easy. I need someone to forgive me. I'm a wreck. I have to make time to see someone, but I have to get back to work. The boys come first.
June she was so sweet. I feel like I just let her die. I should have forced her to go to the hospital. Ohhhhhhh this is all my fault! God please forgive me! I fear for my immortal soul because I have offended God. And yet it is not fear for my eternal fate that makes me remoresful. No. I feel true remorse for not making her life better. I can't move forward. I need forgiveness, and it's just too easy to forgive myself. I KNOW she would forgive me. That makes it even harder. My greatest love. I howl at the moon for her. My tears fill the Hudson River for her. My anguish rips the earth like the Grand Canyon. I wish I could FEEL in my heart that I was forgiven. I LOVED HER SO MUCH! And I sooo dreaded this scenario. I always knew one day this might happen. Maybe that was part of my problem. The stress of KNOWING that each second with her could be my last. It was killing me knowing what MIGHT happen. Now it really happened. Oh June... please "hug" me. Hold my hand. I have no partner. I am incomplete. I told her I feared dying alone if something happened to her. She said "don't worry, if something happens to me, I know you'll find someone. I know you will." I'm so scared. Who would have me, with my boys? I got too cozy after 22 years. Now I feel like dust in the wind. With her I could see the future. Now I look forward and see nothing. I wish I knew why you all care about me so much. I love you for it. You see something in me that I don't see. So did she. Ohhh I'm so scared. I'm so alone. Oh why did I not see how happy I truly was? I was happy and thought I wasn't. My heart is ripped to pieces. What a fool I am. Oh God please give me peace. Give my boys peace.
I could sure use some of those self-esteem pills....
3. The Horror... The Horror...
1/1/08 6:03 PM
Night is the hardest part. Knowing I have no one to lay down with. Knowing that I have no one to awaken with. I put a good face for the boys, but when I go in the hall, my soul splits and peels! Oh God, she died at 5:45am, in the dark, in my hands. I can't shut my eyes. I'm afraid to take a sleeping pill in case the guys need me. I'm like something out of Shakespeare; I keep getting up at The Appointed Hour, and just stand in the darkness, looking at my boys, weeping uncontrollably. The SU crew remembers me with some "notoriety". You have to understand, that for several years after my father died, I had "re-evaluated" what I wanted out of life... and could not find it. Until she walked in. I swear, I thought I would die alone, that no woman would want me, that I'd never have children. 2 out of 3. She wanted me. She gave me children. Yet, I shall still die alone. I know, I have the boys, but without my partner, my soul mate, my gift from God, I am incomplete. I am alone in my thoughts and in my heart. Oh God, I wish I was better to her. Oh God, I wish I had done more for her. She did so much for me. Oh God, forgive me! The greatest sin in my life was not appreciating her enough. Oh how can I forgive myself when I hurt and disappointed so many people, especially her. I want my booby back! I can't believe I watched her die. I froze; mouth to mouth or CPR? I just couldn't clear her airways fast enough. I should've called 911 sooner. Something! Good Lord, there’s a dagger the size of an oak tree in my heart, slowly twisting.
1/5/08 2:16 PM
Dacyl, we've not seen each other for so long. For you to do this thing for me is greatly appreciated. Oh cherish each moment with your love. Remember when you fight over stupid things that they are stupid things. Regret is a horrible thing to live with.
Kim... when we met at the barbecue, I pitied you (not the word I wanted to use) for your loss, and I admired your strength. Look at me now... I don't want to hold a pity party; I know the boys need me and come above all else. But I have to think about me, too. I'm scared. I was incomplete and she made me whole. She shared my thoughts; she shared my pillow. We agreed and disagreed. We laughed and we fought. We loved the simple moments. The four of us lying in bed together, like a pride of lions, watching the Simpsons or Spongebob (She loved that little gay sponge). A walk along the river; a drive to nowhere. Oh God, I am Yin without Yang. I am afraid to grow old alone, without a companion.
I intend to move to Brooklyn by June. I'll put away the Debbie's benefits for the boys until then and buy a used car. I am in the apartment where I was born and raised (hey, a rent control apt. in Soho? Where am I gonna go?). But now this place feels like a coffin. Every time I get a cup of OJ I have to step on the place where she died. I gotta get the fuck outa here.
Night is the hardest part. Knowing I have no one to lay down with. Knowing that I have no one to awaken with. I put a good face for the boys, but when I go in the hall, my soul splits and peels! Oh God, she died at 5:45am, in the dark, in my hands. I can't shut my eyes. I'm afraid to take a sleeping pill in case the guys need me. I'm like something out of Shakespeare; I keep getting up at The Appointed Hour, and just stand in the darkness, looking at my boys, weeping uncontrollably. The SU crew remembers me with some "notoriety". You have to understand, that for several years after my father died, I had "re-evaluated" what I wanted out of life... and could not find it. Until she walked in. I swear, I thought I would die alone, that no woman would want me, that I'd never have children. 2 out of 3. She wanted me. She gave me children. Yet, I shall still die alone. I know, I have the boys, but without my partner, my soul mate, my gift from God, I am incomplete. I am alone in my thoughts and in my heart. Oh God, I wish I was better to her. Oh God, I wish I had done more for her. She did so much for me. Oh God, forgive me! The greatest sin in my life was not appreciating her enough. Oh how can I forgive myself when I hurt and disappointed so many people, especially her. I want my booby back! I can't believe I watched her die. I froze; mouth to mouth or CPR? I just couldn't clear her airways fast enough. I should've called 911 sooner. Something! Good Lord, there’s a dagger the size of an oak tree in my heart, slowly twisting.
1/5/08 2:16 PM
Dacyl, we've not seen each other for so long. For you to do this thing for me is greatly appreciated. Oh cherish each moment with your love. Remember when you fight over stupid things that they are stupid things. Regret is a horrible thing to live with.
Kim... when we met at the barbecue, I pitied you (not the word I wanted to use) for your loss, and I admired your strength. Look at me now... I don't want to hold a pity party; I know the boys need me and come above all else. But I have to think about me, too. I'm scared. I was incomplete and she made me whole. She shared my thoughts; she shared my pillow. We agreed and disagreed. We laughed and we fought. We loved the simple moments. The four of us lying in bed together, like a pride of lions, watching the Simpsons or Spongebob (She loved that little gay sponge). A walk along the river; a drive to nowhere. Oh God, I am Yin without Yang. I am afraid to grow old alone, without a companion.
I intend to move to Brooklyn by June. I'll put away the Debbie's benefits for the boys until then and buy a used car. I am in the apartment where I was born and raised (hey, a rent control apt. in Soho? Where am I gonna go?). But now this place feels like a coffin. Every time I get a cup of OJ I have to step on the place where she died. I gotta get the fuck outa here.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
2. In the Beginning...
You ever hear a story in the news about a woman who gave birth in the bath tub or ladies room, and claimed she didn't know she was pregnant? Well, gather 'round, children, and let me tell ya a tale...
Debbie and I were together for ten years before we got married. So what brought about the change after so many years? I finally knocked her up.
I was working as a systems manager for an advertising company called RY&P Moss. It was April 1, 1995. How appropriate. For some weeks now, Debbie had been getting comments about how she might be in the family way. But she never looked obviously pregnant. Now, she was a "Reubenesque" woman (I like it like that!) and this may have been a factor too. But just ride this pony with me...
Debbie had been under treatment for epilepsy for quite some time. She had had several seizures at Continental Insurance where she worked, and actually lost her job because of it. Anyhoooo, the medicine she was being treated with was Dilantin. Now, we did not think she was pregnant. We thought she was suffering from side effects of the medication. So she goes on WebMD and she gets a list of Dilantin side effects that can mimic pregnancy. Lets go down the list:
Pregnancy: Morning Sickness — Dilantin: Nausea. Check
Pregnancy: Bloating — Dilantin: Retention of Water. Check
Pregnancy: Missing Period — Dilantin: Interference with the Menstrual Cycle. Check
Et Cetera, Ad Infinitum.
So we go on thinking she's not pregnant, that it's the medicine screwing with her. One day she feels a rumbly in her belly. She's thinking it's an ulcer. One of the side effects of Dilantin could be GI problems. So she makes an appointment for an endoscopy, where they insert a camera down your throat to view the inside of your stomach. When she gets there, she is given some preliminary tests. One of the tests is a pregnancy test. She comes up positive. No worries mate; one of the side effects of Dilantin is a false positive on a pregnancy test! So the GI guy tells her, "Look, you're obviously not pregnant. Just take this form to the Sonogram office, they'll check you and certify you're not pregnant, and we can do the procedure." So the sonogram guys checks her out, and says to her, "Okay. You're pregnant!"
I'm blissfully ignorant of all this while I'm at work trying to convince Harvey to work off the server so that all files would be backed up and updated. I get a phone call from Debbie.
"Hi, Sweetie! How'd it go?"
"Nori, I'm pregnant."
"Hummana-hummana-hummana... OK, how far along are you?"
Now keep this in mind. I'm a hippie. I had no money at the time, my tiny apartment in Soho, and no plans to marry, have child or anything close to that! So when asked how far along she was, I was expecting to hear 2, 3, maybe 6 months, TOPS! Let's get back to the action:
"OK, how far along are you?"
"Eight months."
EIGHT MONTHS!!! WHAT THE FUCK!? ¿¡QUE CARAJO COMO VA' SER!? You're gonna be a daddy! When? Tuesday! HOLY SHIT!
Now I'm standing there trembling, crying and laughing like a madman. I am in great joy and abject terror at the same time. My knees turn to jelly, and I almost collapse. Hilda, the receptionist, actually has to catch me and hold me steady.
"¿Que pasó?"
"Debbie's pregnant!"
"Congratulations! When is the baby due?"
"FOUR WEEKS!"
"¡Ay, Dios, mio!"
I'm a quivering mess as Hilda carefully guides me through the office to the back conference room for privacy. I'm babbling, crying, laughing like a nut as people ask what's wrong. "SHH! He just found out he's going to be a father!" I barely make it to a chair. What am I going to do? I have no money to raise a family, no crib, nothing! People come in to congratulate me as I'm trying to fight off a stroke. FOUR WEEKS! Frogs take more time to reproduce! The vice president of the company hears the news, and comes into the conference room. He says, "I was saving this for a special occasion, but it looks like you need this more than I do!" He puts a bottle of 12-year-old Swedish Vodka and a dixie cup in front of me, and I proceed to completely polish that thing off. We always kept that bottle as a keepsake remembrance; I'm looking at it right now.
I called my mother in Puerto Rico. "Mami, your gonna be a grandmother!" "Really? When?" "What time you got?"
We got married on April 14, 1995. Otilio Elías William Colón Lomax, a.k.a. Tito, was born April 20, 1995, one week early.
Two years later, I get a phone call from Debbie.
"Nori, I'm pregnant!"
"Deb, I need more than four weeks notice!"
"I'm two months pregnant."
"HALLELUJAH! THIS, I CAN HANDLE!"
"You're not angry?"
"Angry? I'm ecstatic! I got months instead of hours to get ready!"
So entered Ramiro Norberto Andrés Colón Lomax, a.k.a. Miro.
Debbie and I were together for ten years before we got married. So what brought about the change after so many years? I finally knocked her up.
I was working as a systems manager for an advertising company called RY&P Moss. It was April 1, 1995. How appropriate. For some weeks now, Debbie had been getting comments about how she might be in the family way. But she never looked obviously pregnant. Now, she was a "Reubenesque" woman (I like it like that!) and this may have been a factor too. But just ride this pony with me...
Debbie had been under treatment for epilepsy for quite some time. She had had several seizures at Continental Insurance where she worked, and actually lost her job because of it. Anyhoooo, the medicine she was being treated with was Dilantin. Now, we did not think she was pregnant. We thought she was suffering from side effects of the medication. So she goes on WebMD and she gets a list of Dilantin side effects that can mimic pregnancy. Lets go down the list:
Pregnancy: Morning Sickness — Dilantin: Nausea. Check
Pregnancy: Bloating — Dilantin: Retention of Water. Check
Pregnancy: Missing Period — Dilantin: Interference with the Menstrual Cycle. Check
Et Cetera, Ad Infinitum.
So we go on thinking she's not pregnant, that it's the medicine screwing with her. One day she feels a rumbly in her belly. She's thinking it's an ulcer. One of the side effects of Dilantin could be GI problems. So she makes an appointment for an endoscopy, where they insert a camera down your throat to view the inside of your stomach. When she gets there, she is given some preliminary tests. One of the tests is a pregnancy test. She comes up positive. No worries mate; one of the side effects of Dilantin is a false positive on a pregnancy test! So the GI guy tells her, "Look, you're obviously not pregnant. Just take this form to the Sonogram office, they'll check you and certify you're not pregnant, and we can do the procedure." So the sonogram guys checks her out, and says to her, "Okay. You're pregnant!"
I'm blissfully ignorant of all this while I'm at work trying to convince Harvey to work off the server so that all files would be backed up and updated. I get a phone call from Debbie.
"Hi, Sweetie! How'd it go?"
"Nori, I'm pregnant."
"Hummana-hummana-hummana... OK, how far along are you?"
Now keep this in mind. I'm a hippie. I had no money at the time, my tiny apartment in Soho, and no plans to marry, have child or anything close to that! So when asked how far along she was, I was expecting to hear 2, 3, maybe 6 months, TOPS! Let's get back to the action:
"OK, how far along are you?"
"Eight months."
EIGHT MONTHS!!! WHAT THE FUCK!? ¿¡QUE CARAJO COMO VA' SER!? You're gonna be a daddy! When? Tuesday! HOLY SHIT!
Now I'm standing there trembling, crying and laughing like a madman. I am in great joy and abject terror at the same time. My knees turn to jelly, and I almost collapse. Hilda, the receptionist, actually has to catch me and hold me steady.
"¿Que pasó?"
"Debbie's pregnant!"
"Congratulations! When is the baby due?"
"FOUR WEEKS!"
"¡Ay, Dios, mio!"
I'm a quivering mess as Hilda carefully guides me through the office to the back conference room for privacy. I'm babbling, crying, laughing like a nut as people ask what's wrong. "SHH! He just found out he's going to be a father!" I barely make it to a chair. What am I going to do? I have no money to raise a family, no crib, nothing! People come in to congratulate me as I'm trying to fight off a stroke. FOUR WEEKS! Frogs take more time to reproduce! The vice president of the company hears the news, and comes into the conference room. He says, "I was saving this for a special occasion, but it looks like you need this more than I do!" He puts a bottle of 12-year-old Swedish Vodka and a dixie cup in front of me, and I proceed to completely polish that thing off. We always kept that bottle as a keepsake remembrance; I'm looking at it right now.
I called my mother in Puerto Rico. "Mami, your gonna be a grandmother!" "Really? When?" "What time you got?"
We got married on April 14, 1995. Otilio Elías William Colón Lomax, a.k.a. Tito, was born April 20, 1995, one week early.
Two years later, I get a phone call from Debbie.
"Nori, I'm pregnant!"
"Deb, I need more than four weeks notice!"
"I'm two months pregnant."
"HALLELUJAH! THIS, I CAN HANDLE!"
"You're not angry?"
"Angry? I'm ecstatic! I got months instead of hours to get ready!"
So entered Ramiro Norberto Andrés Colón Lomax, a.k.a. Miro.
Friday, October 10, 2008
1. The Most Painful Duty of My Life
12/24/07 2:48 PM
At 5:30 this morning, the love of my life and reason for living, the mother of my children, Deborah Shirl Lomax Colón, had an epileptic seizure. She then went into full cardiac arrest. Despite vigorous efforts by paramedics, my beautiful wife passed away.
I love her more than life. She loved me as I was, flaws and all. She was, IS, a gift from Jehovah to me. She gave me two beautiful sons, and the best years of my life.
She believed deeply in the Resurrection, and it is my hope to see her again.
I love you Debbie, my sweet.
This is how it began. With this e-mail to the world, I announced the most horrible day of my life. The day my Angel died. The day I died. I blame myself. Plenty of others blamed me too. But that's a discussion for another posting. I promise I will elaborate. But this blog is more for me than for any of you, so I need time to work through things.
We live near the World Trade Center. On 9/11/01, I was freelancing at the Long Island Rail Road headquarters in Jamaica, Queens, miles from Lower Manhattan. My oldest son, 6 at the time, went to school 2 blocks from there. My wife was often shopping in the promenade of the Twin Towers. I thought my family died that day. It took me 7 hours to get home. I had not been right in the head since.
Debbie had been quite ill for sometime. She was epileptic, diabetic. had high blood pressure, and suffered a near fatal heart attack in November of 2001. My 4-year old and 6-year-old (at the time) saved her life by going to the neighbor's for help. I was at work.
Well that night of 12/23/07, I was getting really pissed off because my wife and kids kept knocking Nintendo and PlayStation controllers on the floor. Those things cost $25-$35 each to replace, and I'm not made of money. I was mad and yelling to be careful with those things. Debbie wasn't feeling well, and when she knocked over another controller, I yelled "GODDAMMIT, BE CAREFUL!" She had not been feeling well for days, and she shouted back (she never shouted) "Shut up Nori, you're not the one who's sick! You're not the one who is going to die!" Prophetic.
Whenever I was a jerk with her (more often than I'd care to admit), I always got on my knees and begged her forgiveness. And she always did the same thing. She'd hug me, give me a kiss, and say "I forgive you, you bum!" And she did it again that night. Then God gave me the grace of allowing me to make love to my wife one last time.
The next morning, 12/24, about 5 in the morning. I felt her get up. I always get up when she does, because I worry about her. I said, "Are you OK?" She responded, "I have to pee." I'd like to think that her last words to me were "I love you", but actually they were "I have to pee". I have a sick sense of humor, and so did she, so she would have found that funny.
So, I lay back down while she turned on the light in the kitchen. Suddenly I hear a loud thud, and I run into the kitchen to see my wife in a full grand mal epileptic seizure. A voice in my head said "She's going to die!" I said "No she's not!" The voice said "Let her die." I said "No fucking way! I'm not going to let her die!" It wasn't the first time she had a grand mal, but she had not had one in many months. So I know the drill. I grab her and lay her down on her side, so that she won't hurt herself or choke on her drool. Otilio asks what's going on (Ramiro was asleep, he took sedatives at the time). I told Tito to get me towels soaked in cold water. I would clear her mouth with the towels, and wipe her face with the cold water to help rouse her. It always worked before, and it seemed to work this time, too. She started to come around as I stood straddled over her. I looked at her, smiled and said, "Welcome back!" That's when things went wrong. She looked at me and tried to speak. All she could do was dig her fingernails into my calves. This was not normal. I shouted her name. "Debbie? DEBBIE?" Suddenly she went into another seizure. This never happened before, and I knew this was bad. I told Tito to give me the phone so I could call 911. Before I could dial, suddenly all this white foam started pouring, gushing out of her nose and mouth. It was fizzing like soda water, and I was on the phone with 911 getting paramedics. I tried to clear her passages so I could do mouth to mouth or SOMETHING. But it just kept coming too fast. Then the foam turned red. I had never seen such a red before, all crimson and shiny and bubbly. I looked into her eyes and kept calling her name. Please God, don't take my baby from me! Then the foam went from red to snow white. She started convulsing, breathed deeply 5 or 6 times, let out one long exhale, and just... expired. I couldn't even hold her in my arms. I couldn't believe it. I REFUSED to believe it. My honey can't die! I need her! Her kids need her!
I could hear the paramedics coming upstairs. I shouted "She stopped breathing!" The first EMT ran up the last 2 flights. He looked at her on the floor and then he looked at me. I could tell from the look on his face that she was dead. But I begged him, Please save my baby! Save my honey! Bring her back to me! And he tried. Soon I had 10 firemen and EMTs in my tiny apartment. But I knew they were just putting on a show for me and my kids. I prayed God bring her back. They can do it! They hooked her up to the defibrillator and must have zapped her 12 times. Nothing. She was full of needles and tubes and pumps and airways. Still nothing. They took her down stairs stopping at every flight to do CPR. I called St. Vincent's Hospital around an hour later (I was waiting for my sister from New Jersey to pick up my boys). I asked How is my wife?...
"I'm sorry, Mister Colón. We worked on her for over an hour. At some point we have to stop and declare her deceased."
My soul was rendered asunder. My heart was torn from my chest. I cried out such a cry, even Satan pitied me. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHAAAAAA!!! NOT MY SWEETIE!!! NOT MY BABY!!!" I loved her more than my own life. She was the very air that I breathed. And now she's gone!
Hell begins...
This is how it began. With this e-mail to the world, I announced the most horrible day of my life. The day my Angel died. The day I died. I blame myself. Plenty of others blamed me too. But that's a discussion for another posting. I promise I will elaborate. But this blog is more for me than for any of you, so I need time to work through things.
We live near the World Trade Center. On 9/11/01, I was freelancing at the Long Island Rail Road headquarters in Jamaica, Queens, miles from Lower Manhattan. My oldest son, 6 at the time, went to school 2 blocks from there. My wife was often shopping in the promenade of the Twin Towers. I thought my family died that day. It took me 7 hours to get home. I had not been right in the head since.
Debbie had been quite ill for sometime. She was epileptic, diabetic. had high blood pressure, and suffered a near fatal heart attack in November of 2001. My 4-year old and 6-year-old (at the time) saved her life by going to the neighbor's for help. I was at work.
Well that night of 12/23/07, I was getting really pissed off because my wife and kids kept knocking Nintendo and PlayStation controllers on the floor. Those things cost $25-$35 each to replace, and I'm not made of money. I was mad and yelling to be careful with those things. Debbie wasn't feeling well, and when she knocked over another controller, I yelled "GODDAMMIT, BE CAREFUL!" She had not been feeling well for days, and she shouted back (she never shouted) "Shut up Nori, you're not the one who's sick! You're not the one who is going to die!" Prophetic.
Whenever I was a jerk with her (more often than I'd care to admit), I always got on my knees and begged her forgiveness. And she always did the same thing. She'd hug me, give me a kiss, and say "I forgive you, you bum!" And she did it again that night. Then God gave me the grace of allowing me to make love to my wife one last time.
The next morning, 12/24, about 5 in the morning. I felt her get up. I always get up when she does, because I worry about her. I said, "Are you OK?" She responded, "I have to pee." I'd like to think that her last words to me were "I love you", but actually they were "I have to pee". I have a sick sense of humor, and so did she, so she would have found that funny.
So, I lay back down while she turned on the light in the kitchen. Suddenly I hear a loud thud, and I run into the kitchen to see my wife in a full grand mal epileptic seizure. A voice in my head said "She's going to die!" I said "No she's not!" The voice said "Let her die." I said "No fucking way! I'm not going to let her die!" It wasn't the first time she had a grand mal, but she had not had one in many months. So I know the drill. I grab her and lay her down on her side, so that she won't hurt herself or choke on her drool. Otilio asks what's going on (Ramiro was asleep, he took sedatives at the time). I told Tito to get me towels soaked in cold water. I would clear her mouth with the towels, and wipe her face with the cold water to help rouse her. It always worked before, and it seemed to work this time, too. She started to come around as I stood straddled over her. I looked at her, smiled and said, "Welcome back!" That's when things went wrong. She looked at me and tried to speak. All she could do was dig her fingernails into my calves. This was not normal. I shouted her name. "Debbie? DEBBIE?" Suddenly she went into another seizure. This never happened before, and I knew this was bad. I told Tito to give me the phone so I could call 911. Before I could dial, suddenly all this white foam started pouring, gushing out of her nose and mouth. It was fizzing like soda water, and I was on the phone with 911 getting paramedics. I tried to clear her passages so I could do mouth to mouth or SOMETHING. But it just kept coming too fast. Then the foam turned red. I had never seen such a red before, all crimson and shiny and bubbly. I looked into her eyes and kept calling her name. Please God, don't take my baby from me! Then the foam went from red to snow white. She started convulsing, breathed deeply 5 or 6 times, let out one long exhale, and just... expired. I couldn't even hold her in my arms. I couldn't believe it. I REFUSED to believe it. My honey can't die! I need her! Her kids need her!
I could hear the paramedics coming upstairs. I shouted "She stopped breathing!" The first EMT ran up the last 2 flights. He looked at her on the floor and then he looked at me. I could tell from the look on his face that she was dead. But I begged him, Please save my baby! Save my honey! Bring her back to me! And he tried. Soon I had 10 firemen and EMTs in my tiny apartment. But I knew they were just putting on a show for me and my kids. I prayed God bring her back. They can do it! They hooked her up to the defibrillator and must have zapped her 12 times. Nothing. She was full of needles and tubes and pumps and airways. Still nothing. They took her down stairs stopping at every flight to do CPR. I called St. Vincent's Hospital around an hour later (I was waiting for my sister from New Jersey to pick up my boys). I asked How is my wife?...
"I'm sorry, Mister Colón. We worked on her for over an hour. At some point we have to stop and declare her deceased."
My soul was rendered asunder. My heart was torn from my chest. I cried out such a cry, even Satan pitied me. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHAAAAAA!!! NOT MY SWEETIE!!! NOT MY BABY!!!" I loved her more than my own life. She was the very air that I breathed. And now she's gone!
Hell begins...
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