Lots of Voices In My Head And Their Voices Are Different

Carole writes Howie 3/25/03:

 

Dear Howie,  Note to self:  The hair dryer will defrost a baked potato, but if you turn it on high you will spend the rest of the night scraping the flaky fish off the walls and ceiling of the bathroom.

 

This morning I woke up startled that you were not there.  That lasted about a minute until I fully awakened and remembered why.  Then I felt lonely and decided to stay with that a moment and to then take it a step further:  What if I had seen you for the last time?  How would I feel about that?  I thought about how I had felt about that the day after Richard, Alan, Peter and Jay and how relieved I was that it was finally over.  I even feel that way, to a certain extent, about Don.  It has the weirdness of not being over, but from the standpoint of my life ever being about him, it is over and thankfully so.

 

There was nothing in me that would celebrate not having you in my life.  There was nothing that said to me it would allow an opportunity for something better.  That probably sounds strange, but even as much as I have taken on the responsibility for caring for others, and made their needs my needs, I always felt that my life would be easier without them.  You make my life easier.  You bring an element of security and stability that transcends any earthly issue.  You give me a sense of peace.

 

It is a lasting sense of tranquility that exceeds time and space.  As I held the question in my mind of how I would cope without you, I realized that having known you, having just known that you even existed on some ethereal plane, has been enough to make my life infinity better for all time.  If I were never to see or touch you again, I would feel sadness at that deprivation, but would still be able to carry on great joy with just the experience of having known a spirit of your caliber.  Having joined with your soul, I will always know you as a part of me, and will always find comfort in that union.   Don't get me wrong, the bed behind me is looking REALLY empty, but the good news is that I am not freaked out by that.

 

I was rushed all morning and never did get to properly say good-bye, but I told myself that I would have time tonight to do that.  How typical of me to think myself indestructible.  The approach to Atlanta was the absolute worst I have ever experienced, including all of my own lousy landings.  I was sure the pilot had never landed a plane before and as it lurched and nose dived I thought how

careless I had been in not taking the time to tell you how I felt before getting on that plane.  What if I had never been given this opportunity to tell you what a tremendous impact you have made on me?  I am always so overwhelmed with love and admiration for you, but I bite my tongue to keep from saying so, because I feel your discomfort when I do.  I hear the uncertainty or the lack of ease in your voice when you tell me you love me.  I am not sure if it is that you then feel you must reply, or if the words conjure up bad memories and association with actions that did not validate the meaning of the words.  I am often torn between the desire to tell you how I feel and the need to make you comfortable; and not really knowing how to do that.

 

I know you love me.  You make that abundantly clear in the way you treat me.  I don't know how I got off on this tangent, other than to say that I don't know how to tell you I love you without making you uncomfortable.  The inspiration for this letter was actually Wahn Penh, Tom and Ana's housekeeper.  I was telling Bob about the meeting that you arranged for us with Stephanie and he commented that it must be great that you have all of these wonderfully well connected people in your sphere of influence.  I told him that what impressed me more is how much all of these people love you.

 

I am not surprised that most of them think the world of you, because you really are a remarkable individual,