This weekend is the anniversary of Pete's death. While this time of year has historically been pretty rough, I did pretty good going into it. As I've taken on more interest in mindfulness, I've been conscious of my triggers and made sure to avoid jarring scenes. For instance, on Thursday, my boss took clients to the park, as the weather is getting nicer and as COVID numbers drop, we are now able to get out and stretch a bit more. I was considering joining them at the park. That's when someone announced that they were doing a balloon release at the park. Oh hell no. The last balloon release I attended was Pete's. There was no way that right during the anniversary of his death that I could stomach doing that. I declined and remained in my office.
Friday started out pretty normal. I was a bit annoyed that HR had signed me up for a virtual training. I wouldn't have been as miffed, but the day they selected me was the day that I'd already scheduled to get my second vaccine. Which meant I had to basically bogart my way into the office and beg for my second one on a later date and hope I can get it. I'm very fortunate to be a healthcare worker, therefore able to score one early.
Anyway, Friday, I was at home on my computer. Everyone else was pretty quiet, so I was making an effort to respond to the trainers' questions and get through this damned thing. Then I got a text from my best friend, Sky. "Andrea passed" My heart stopped. I threw the laptop off my legs and called him immediately. "What?!" I asked, in shock. His voice was low, but he said "they found her Thursday." I was thinking perhaps she'd been in a horrific car accident. Then Sky said "her and her boyfriend." I froze. I already knew. I felt a lump in my throat. I just happened to have met this boyfriend of hers for the first time last week. She'd been wrestling with the idea of breaking up with him. After the loudest silence ever, I mustered to ask "drugs?" He said "there was fentanyl in her cocaine."
I'd known Andrea for probably 10 years. She used to work at the nightclub that I frequent and she worked the door with Sky. She and Sky would often wear matching costumes on Halloween. I normally spend most of my time outside when I'd go, we'd often see one another and joke in passing, but not much more communication than that. At some point, she'd been moved inside to bartend. I'd still see her and we'd wave, but not much more was said at that point. She was inside of a loud nightclub, making her money, and there wasn't really much to talk about anyway.
About a year ago, I'd had an idea to start a Facebook group, where my friends and I could post some of the wilder stuff we see on FB, that we can't post publicly. Andrea was one of the first people there and she routinely provided the wildest material to the group. The group was pretty NSFW, and that's how we liked it. Andrea had started providing some material that featured religious stuff. One of the other members got offended. In order to attempt to keep the peace, Andrea blocked her, but that set off a whole 'nother reaction.
I inboxed Andrea to see if she'd be willing to meet with the angry party. Andrea was willing to talk to the other party. But the other party didn't want to talk to her. She felt that the blocking was a huge slap in the face. Including not talking to Andrea, she didn't want to talk to me either. I tried several times to speak to her, but she'd shut off, which I respected. Yeah, it hurt, but life goes on (sigh).
In the meantime, Andrea and I had grown closer. She'd donated clothes to the women at my job and we met up to eat and hang out. Then we started hanging out every weekend. Some days, we'd meet for brunch and coffee, brining our laptops so that we could get work done. I was so glad to have space to be creative. She'd be plugging away at her laptop too. It was beneficial for both of us. We were both quirky and outgoing.
I could always count on her for adventures. Last month, I had a hankering to leave the city. I just felt my spirit calling to be elsewhere. I decided to get a hotel in Chattanooga for the night. I've long since stopped asking people to go with me on trips because they normally have anxiety about such situations and ask too many questions. "Where are we going? When will we get back? What will we do? Where will we stay? How much money will I need? What should I wear?" When you're a "fly by the seat of your pants" woman like me, those questions are irritating af. Sometimes you just gotta go with it and enjoy the journey. So anyway, that Saturday afternoon, I called her and said "I was going to go to Chattanooga tonight and get a hotel, wanna join me?" She immediately said yes. I told her that I'd planned to get a cheap Day's Inn somewhere, and she countered with getting a nicer hotel in the middle of the city and splitting the cost. Even better. She was and is the only woman I know and trust to join me, last minute, for an adventure like that. About a month ago, I remember feeling that I finally had a female bestie in the city that I could roll with for adventures. My BFF moved to DC about 10 years ago and I've struggled to have consistent female friends like that since then. It was nice while it lasted.
Last weekend, Andrea and I connected (as usual) on Saturday. We decided to meet at her house because she had maintenance things to tend to. I'd brought my laptop and tried to focus, but the spirit just wasn't with me. Meanwhile, I watched her taping up her dining room, and painting edges. I volunteered to help her. She'd been in decorating mode. There were wallpaper samples up, as she struggled with which pattern to use, and which paint to use with it. While she hadn't planned on it, we ended up finishing the whole dining room. That stubborn paint stayed on me, and is still there. We joked about how Gemini-like it is to start off intending to work, and ending up painting a room instead. I'd actually told her about my intention to have a prom for my birthday this year. Since her birthday is only two days from mine, we opted for a prom on June 19th, right between our two days. It was going to be epic. The next day, we went to IKEA for more decorating ideas. That evening, I returned to her home to pick up some laundry I'd left, in addition to brining my son, who'd been tasked with fixing her router extender in her home.
When I returned, her boyfriend was there. Something didn't seem quite right about him, but he was nice enough. They were planning meals for their upcoming camping trip. I joked about how poor they sounded, planning out meals that could be cooked over an open fire. Eventually, Pumpkin finished his task, and we'd left. Nothing seemed off at all.
The following Wednesday, I was having an issue at work and I was hoping for insight on the best way to deal with a patient. I called Andrea. No answer. I didn't sweat it. She normally texts me back and explains that she can't talk or will call me later. I didn't think much when I didn't get that call or text. I focused that week on the upcoming anniversary of Pete's death. Which was also pretty close to the anniversary of my aunt's death last year. I had no idea what I was in store for.
I can't believe I made it through that damned training. My first impulse was to close my laptop and deal with my emotions, but I was already halfway through it, and if I didn't finish, I'd just have to do the stupid thing later. But I checked out. Coincidentally, one of the training videos we watched featured a woman named "Andrea" and I couldn't stomach hearing the counselor say her name repeatedly. I private messaged the trainer, told her what I'd just learned and explained that I couldn't bear to watch the video. She let me slide. I logged out as soon as I could. I sat on my couch and tried to make sense of what I'd just learned. Like there's more Andrea? Like none? Like I'll never see her again? Andrea? But, I just saw her. We were just together. I was just at her house. We just painted. Andrea?
I'd been texting Sky back and forth. I needed something, but I didn't know what. A hug. I needed a hug. I arranged to meet him for the hug. I walked up to the bar he was at, which is next door the club she worked at. I ran to him and began bawling. I loudly wept into his arms. We remained outside and talked. He told me what he knew. I couldn't believe it. "But we were just at her house," I kept saying. I remember sitting on the curb, rocking back and forth, trying to make sense of it. A bartender brought Sky a couple of drinks. He tried to introduce me, but I burst into tears again. The woman offered to bring me a drink, but I asked for water. She quickly brought it back and asked if she could hug me. I nodded. She told me that she'd worked bartending with Andrea, but wasn't close. She gave her condolences.
The following day was Saturday. A day that had kind of become "our day" by default. We'd normally text one another anywhere between 10am and 1pm to see if the other wanted to hang. I looked at my phone, my heart breaking again that I'd never get that text from her. I felt like I needed to honor her that day, but I didn't know how. I decided to stop at Petit Chou and get a croque monsieur, the sandwich she'd put me onto, at the restaurant she'd put me onto. It felt so lonely being there by myself. I don't normally mind dining alone, but this time was different. To make it even worse, I happened to be at the same table she and I had sat at the first time we visited together. It was unreal.
I decided next to go to her home. I drove there, and sat in her driveway. I wanted to go in, but I didn't know her roommate like that, so I sat in the car. A few minutes later, the roommate's Lyft appeared. He looked into my car and I said "I didn't mean to be a creep, I just felt like I needed to be here." He nodded in understanding and invited me in.
It was so odd walking in. Seeing all of the sights and sounds I'd seen before, but she wasn't there. I walked into the living room, adjacent to the dining room. I looked up at the wallpaper samples. I walked into the dining room, where things were still taped up from last week. The tarp was still on the table. I couldn't help it, but I took pics. I needed to remember this, for some reason. Because she was just here. Her roommate offered me a drink, and I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I saw the leftover salad container from the spot we went to last week. Here are all of the remnants of her being here. But she's not here. How is this possible?
We sat on the couch, and he told me what he knew. He described how he'd found them. He told me how he'd found his father, the same time last year. A tear came to his eye as he described how horrific is is to walk into a room and find someone dead. He said how it's an eerie feeling, how the moment you open the door, you already know. I was thankful to be a counselor in that moment. I was able to give him comfort and say the right words to allow him to process.
Wildly enough, it all took me back to Pete's death. His family was nice, but they made it clear that they weren't really trying to entertain his friends like that. I get it. They dealt with his shit for a long time and they just wanted to grieve in peace. But I felt so invalidated. I felt like they told me in so many words, that they don't give a damn that I was hurting too. Again, I get it. They lost a brother and son, while I lost a coworker/friend. And I've lost family, I know how that goes. But I'd wish I'd been given a space to be when he died. My supervisor told me that he'd be going to Pete's home, to clean out his stuff. I begged to go too. He told me no. He told me later on that he'd had one of Pete's work shirts. Again, I begged for it. Again, he told me no. I'd felt so much that my grieving would have been helped, had I been given access to his space after he died. Just a space to bask. All I had was a few scant reminders, such as the fish bowl he took from my hands as he walked me to my car one afternoon. I still cherish that bowl, as it sits in my living room. But that, the hourglass I never got to give him, and a few papers is all I have left. We didn't even get to take any pics together. I remember after Pete's death, screaming to the heavens that I didn't have it in me to stomach the death of another good friend, and please God, don't do this to me ever again.
But now, here I am, in Andrea's house. Among her possessions, thinking about all of the memories. And it didn't really help. Oddly enough, it seemed to bring out the cognitive dissonance even harder. I struggled to find how she could be gone, but her car is here and her cats are here. So you mean, I'm in her house, her stuff is here. The space where she was trying to figure out if she'll paint this room this color or that color, and she's gone now? How is that possible?
I eventually left and couldn't decide what to do next. I wanted to drive to Chattanooga, but I didn't feel like it. But I did feel like it. I checked the weather, which was supposed to be mild that day. The last time that Andrea and I were in Chattanooga, that morning, she and I got dressed, and walked right down the street to the riverfront. That's where I felt like I needed to go. So despite me telling myself every few miles to turn around, I kept going. I got to the riverfront, and tried for the umpteenth time to make it all fit. To make it all make sense. How can I look at you, hang out with you, eat with you, wash clothes at your house, and 3 days later, you're gone? How is that possible?
I still don't know.
Thank you so much, Andrea. Thank you for everything.
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