Vanilla Oreo

Disclaimer: this blog post is a fond and funny teacher memory from my first years teaching in West Philadelphia. It comes from a school where the demographics were and are still Black American. Being a white woman, I am keenly aware of the fact that my experiences with these students for the two years that I taught gave me a sliver of insight into their reality. Just because I have some experience teaching in this dynamic does not make me an expert - it gives me some experience and just a little insight. In other words, I mean no disrespect to the community I served and taught (least of all these lively students I taught and came to love) in this post as I try to convey a fond memory.

It’s been a minute since I’ve taken to my keyboard in some recreational writing. Feeling motivated (and if I'm completely honest) having the time away from 35 energetic nine year olds, as I enjoy some much needed R&R, I’ve decided to stretch those creative writing muscles.

As I’ve talked and shared with many friends and family of this new chapter of mine, as I’ve embarked on teaching in a homeroom setting, the kind of stamina is quite different than what I’m use to; and the sheer class size has been quite a shock to me. After all, I’ve been a teacher for 7 years now; I ain't no wet behind the ears naive sap to the classroom. I am all too familiar with the demands; the dynamics and the duties of a teacher. Nevertheless there are some differences I have been intrigued to observe in the demographics of students I face now; the obvious being the way my students express themselves in the classroom. It has truly been a night and day difference.

It was the fall of 2011 and I found myself in my second year teaching in West Philadelphia. I was still new to the profession - no doubt about that - but I had a few tricks up my sleeve; I had some wisdom. The operative word being: some. In my role at the school I was an English Language Arts (ELA) teacher to all the middle school grades. I provided extra support to 6th and 7th grade students who struggled in reading and writing; and I was (for lack of better words) an honors ELA teacher to the 8th graders. Because I had the luxury of small class sizes, I waited after the first couple of weeks of school before making a seating chart. In this way, I could observe student dynamics. In other words, I watched very carefully who I should sit as far away from each other as possible - for their sake and for my sanity. It was the last day of my “trial period” and I definitely got some clarity about two of my 8th grade boys.

Fifteen 8th grade students strutted into my 3rd floor classroom with overhead notes on the screen, in the front of the room, waiting for them to copy said notes in their notebooks. Most of the students found a seat rather quickly, and without much fuss - except two outspoken boys named Zachary and Romel. Zachary snagged a desk that Romel apparently had his sights on. Romel approaches Zachary's space (puffed chest and all) and says, “Yo, you be sitting in my desk!” To which Zachary spits back with, “I don’t see yo name on it!” To which I reply to Romel: “Romel, there's an open desk right next to Zachary. Why don’t you grab that one?” I then start with my lecture, and all is well in the air….for about 5 minutes.

Cue Romel...“Ms. Quigs, I can’t see the board to write down all these notes, cuz SOMEBODY (as he swerves his head towards his challenger) be in my seat.” Cue another head turn and eye roll towards Zachary. You don’t think Zachary was about to take that line lying down do you? Nope!
With just as much aggression in his voice Zachary fires back, with his arms held out in good challenger fashion, “Say something else and I'm about to pop your head off!” To which I defuse the situation with my mantra for that class period: “boys, boys, boys, you’re in 8th grade, you don’t want Ms. Quigley to solve your problems for you.”

Another two minuets pass before Romel instigates again, with a similar overtly passive aggressive (if that makes sense) line about not being able to see the screen. And of course, Zachary is quick with a line that is equally as defensive and aggressive. This was a verbal showdown happening in my classroom, and my patience was thin for this kind of classroom banter. But I am a woman of chances (three to be exact) and we were at strike two at this point. So, I reply the same way: “boys, boys, boys, you’re in 8th grade, you don’t want Ms. Quigley to solve your problems for you.”

And yet, another two minuets pass and Romel just can’t seem to contain himself. “Oh, Ms. Quigs I wish I could see the screen, if only SOMEBODY hadn’t taken my seat!” I almost wondered at this point if his beef was about the seat, or more about not backing down from a verbal showdown. And in the same breath, Zachary, hallars back with another hostile line; “Say one more word, and see what happens!”

And that was strike three - and my patience was gone and done!

In a series of swift, silent and stealth motions I shocked these boys and they were rendered speechless - finally! With a stack of papers in my hand and an empty desk in front of me, I slam the stack of papers on the empty desk; this is followed by my high heel shoes click-clacking across my hardwood classroom floor, before I stop dead cold in front of Romel’s desk and say with a tense whisper: “get up.”

He finches his whole body in his shock and startled reaction before saying, “whaaat?”

“I didn’t stutter Romel, I said, get, up…”

With more hesitation then I have ever seen in him, he stood up with cautious and apprehensive eyes, (almost tremblingly) not knowing what was about to happen to him. And without a word, I slid his desk down the room before stopping directly in front of the overhead screen; and before doing the same to his chair. As I take a few steps back, I look at Romel, before looking at his desk that is literally front and center, and say, “have a seat.”

With confused and shocked eyes of what just happened, he takes his seat - front and center, and smack dab in front of the projector screen, as he now has no issue seeing what notes to take down. He had to cock his head all the way backward to see and transcribe his notes in his notebook. “I just solved your problem for you Romel - you’re welcome.”

In unison, the rest of his classmates, bury their faces in their arms in failed attempts to muffle their laughter from the sight they just witnessed. One of their biggest class clown instigators was just put in his place and silenced. My alter ego was dusting off my shoulder - certainly a proud classroom management moment for me.

Now the kicker to this moment was after the fact as the class period ended, and my students were changing classes. Three other students (neither Romel or Zachary) approach me to offer their praises to me.

With books in their hands, and raised eyebrows, they say with a sigh, “Ms. Quigs, we gotta tell ya something. We weren't sure ‘bout ya. Ya know, ya be white - no offense or nothin’ - but ya know? Anyhow, Ms. Quigley, ya got a lil ghetto in ya! Ya be like a vanilla Oreo - white on the outside, but there be a lil chocolate ghetto on ya inside!” I chucked with a grin as I corked my head to the side, “I’ll take that as a compliment I suppose - thank you.”

And I still (to this day) take that as a compliment.

What's Heaven Like Dad?

Dad, what was it like? What was it like to die? When you passed in the middle of the night, four years ago today, as the rest of us had fallen asleep; did your soul stay for a bit? Did you wait for us to go to sleep? Did you choose to pass quietly, after we all gave you our consent the night before; and we said our goodbyes, and gave you kisses as you lay barely alive before we all went to bed at midnight in exhaustion?

Was that intentional, that you took your last breath once we were all tucked away and asleep? And as you breathed your last breath, did you hear a voice softly call you by name? Was is muffled at first and as they continued to call you by name did the sound of their voice become clear? And as you let out your last breath in the stillness of the night, was someone there to greet you; like an Angel or perhaps someone you once knew that went before you? What was it like to leave your body? Did you open your eyes anew? And the pain that plagued your body, I imagine it was gone; but could you feel your spirit, like I can sense the presence of my body? Did you sit up from your body, or maybe levitate out of yourself?

Yet again I wonder, did you linger and wait till we found you pale and cold at 3:55 that morning, on September 3^rd 2013? When I approached your death bed, before falling to my knees in screaming tears, were you there beside me with your old friend who went before you, or that Angel companion? When all I could do for two hours before they came to take your body was hold your lifeless hand; were you holding me in your soulful embrace? And as they wheeled you out of the house and into the hearse and I began to keel over in screaming sorrow, did you and the Angel paint that beautiful sunrise as comfort to us, as a sign of your love for us?

Hours later as I stood in that small room later that morning; that room in the mortuary; that room they laid you in; I stood as close to you as I could, and I studied and stroked your face as I began talking to you in my head; and I began screaming to you in my head: “Dad, don’t make me leave you! Dad, don’t go; Dad, please don’t go! Dad don’t leave me! Dad, PLEASE don’t leave me! DAD…no…please don't go!!!” Could you and the Angel hear me in my own head? Did you reply? Did you hold me in the moment? Did my screaming thoughts bring you to tears, like they brought me to tears? But you can’t cry when you’re dead – can you? So how did you reply? 

As we made call after all; as we finalized the details of your final services; as family and friends began flooding in; as I cried over each word I wrote for your eulogy, were you there? Was your hand on my shoulder? Did you say words I couldn’t hear? Did you wait before crossing over or going to the light? Again, did your soul linger?

And once you were finally ready to go, what was that like when you left this world and into the next? Did you tell the Angel you were ready, or did the Angel tell you it was time to go? Did the Angel take you by the hand and you two walked towards a brilliant light; a glowing bright and brilliant light? Did you look back at us with loving words as you walked towards Grace? Were you scared or nervous as you walked toward Everlasting Grace? As you walked closer to the light, did the sounds of this world begin to muffle or drown out; and what was it replaced with? Was it replaced with silence; like a vacuum of silence; or perhaps not? And as you walked through this tunnel and closer to the light, did the view of this world begin to fade? And once the sights and sounds of this world faded out, and that vacuum of silence became more, I imagine you being spun and flipped through a strong wave current through this vacuum of silence before viewing glimpses of your life; viewing yourself and each significant moment from an outsiders perspective, before viewing your life in an extreme fast forward of sights and sounds; while again, viewing some pivotal moments through eyes anew. 

Did you see moments from when you were a boy back in Kansas and Missouri? Did moments from Vietnam and serving in the Air-force during the war flashback too? Perhaps the years in college and in Chicago came flashing back; did you remember peoples’ names? I can imagine the day you met mom came up; and maybe even the day you two said “I do.” And as you viewed your life in these extreme flashbacks, through this tunneled fast moving current, did the ugly human moments come up along with the moments of laughter and beauty? Did the moment you became a father for the first time show when Katie was born? Or the moments Joey was an infant and almost died; did those moments appear as well? The summers you and mom took us four kids camping and you taught us about the stars over campfire – did those moments come up too? In this vacuum and as the cinema of your life played, did moments of me come up? Like the time I moved upstate for college – did you feel that same feeling when I flew the coop? Of perhaps you viewed a simple moment between us from an early morning as we sipped our coffee on the front porch; as everyone else still lay asleep? After all, you and I both were the early birds in the family? As I imagine you viewing the days of your life through those eyes anew and in the sensation of this vacuumed current, I imagine sounds of laughter and soft music playing as the moments from your life’s cinema began to fade and that light became so bright all you could do was close your souls eyes before the rush of the vacuum current stopped and you found yourself suddenly and without reason on an empty path – like the Yellow Brick Road in “The Wizard of Oz,” but perhaps just cobble stone instead; and that cobble stoned path was surrounded by wide open green rolling pastures you might find in Ireland and a beautiful blue sky to top it off. Or maybe you found yourself on a tropical beach, as the sounds of waves crashing filled your senses. As you and the Angel walked the path (or the beach), I envision you asked if you were getting close. As the Angel smiled at you, you were told to just look ahead; and as you did I imagine maybe you saw the Pearly gates, but actually, I imagine the gates to Heaven was more of a beautiful carved wooden gate twinkling in fire flies. And as you approached the gate, I like to think that perhaps Saint Peter was there to greet you and welcome you, and tell you how good you’re looking. As you pass through the wooden (or pearly) gates you take stock of yourself for the first time, as you realize the form your spirit is in. You’re in the best physical form of yourself you were at in your lifetime – I’ll take a guess and say it was when you were 34; the age you married mom. As the sound of laughter continues, and soft music continues, I suspect your eyes saw a garden beyond the gates.

This garden is none like you have ever seen before. In this garden, the trees were so stout, as the branches hung with beautiful green and flowered vines; every flower you had ever seen and more surrounded you with such vibrant color, and every color of God’s beautiful rainbow. And as you looked further into the gates of Heaven you caught the glimpse of creatures of the sea in the air, far off in the distance. And as you looked through the distance, an array of magnificent mountains and waterfalls framed the background as souls of people (so many souls of people) flew through the distance of waterfalls and rainbows, and the creatures of the sea as well just floated through the soft beautiful glow of God’s Everlasting light!

As you strolled through the tall grasses in the gates entry way, did you walk side by side with the Angel, or had the Angel departed (perhaps to guide another soul to Heavens gates)? Who did you meet first in Heaven? Did you encounter your father – without the bottle? Rather did you first meet your mother instead; striped of her anger and rage? Was she the soft kind soul she once was; the mother she would have wanted to be for you, but couldn’t be? Did forgiveness flood your soul as you reached for each other in embrace? And who else did you meet again but through your eyes anew? Surely a familiar face took your spirit’s hand as you both took flight and levitated to God’s thrown room.

What is God’s kingdom and thrown like? As you approached His thrown did He have a face, or is He this inconceivable being that is merely impossible to describe – a sight to see and not tell? Was His thrown made of clouds, or marble; maybe forest green ivy? The inside of his throne room must have been jaw dropping! Were there pillars as high as the eye could see of stone and flowers? Did you walk on water to God’s throne or perhaps hills of smooth sand? Was a choir of Angels there singing the most beautiful notes you had ever heard, as their voices were paired with Heavenly harps and flutes and trumpets? Were children who hadn’t even had a chance to live (or barely had a chance to live) there to welcome you with childlike excitement, to bring you to the feet of Jesus? As you approached the feet of Jesus, did you catch sight of his Mother, the queen of Heaven and Earth? How beautiful is Mary? How stunning is her timeless face? Does she radiate with Grace and love and loveliness? And as the lost children walked, skipped and jumped alongside you, and as you neared the scared feet of Jesus, did your scares show too as you fell to your knees at His feet? When you spoke to God, face to face, for the first time, were you overwhelmed with joyful tears, or did you two simply embrace in smiles? Did you ask all the questions you had for him? And did you get your answers? Did he have a cup of coffee ready for you; just how you like it - black, no cream or sugar? And did you enjoy a cup of joe with God? 

As you strolled and flew through Heaven, were there God’s animals there too – maybe Comet, Sugarbear and Lexi (our old dogs that passed away)? Did they tackle you with glee and loving licks? Possibly, did some fascinating jungle animals come and play with you? A monkey for example, did a monkey jump on your shoulders and point you to a Heavenly pond surrounded with other souls? Or rather, instead of a monkey, did a magnificent pearly white haired horse nudge you to this pond surrounded by other souls? And as you looked puzzled at the pond, glistening in God’s radiant light and vibrant rainbow, did this animal tap the surface; and in creating that Heavenly ripple, was a portal to which you could view us revealed to you? And how often do you frequent that pond to check in on us? Or do you simple know how we’re doing by some other supernatural power? And when you’ve paid me a visit when I’m fast asleep; how does the work? Do you leave the gates of Heaven, back through the tunnel and just lay your hand on my forehead in my room? Or do you simply (and somehow – I don’t know how) bring my mind and thoughts to you (not my soul, but my consciousness) to Heaven and speak to me that way? And when I've been in distress (either physically, or mentally or emotionally) does your soul know? Can you view my life in the way God does - where he already knows the plans of my life before I even do? For Heaven is separate from time - right? 

While I miss you every day, I know you are well, and I know you take care of me - even of it's in different form. All the same I miss you dad! But partially I'm selfish; I am selfish because I want you back here with me and mom, and Joey, and Katie and Gabby. I'll be the first to admit I should be more happy for you; for you have left to go home - where all our hearts can finally feel satisfied. And you are free from pain, human constraints, and you're on this grand great trip - the last adventure, the Everlasting adventure! All the same, I wanted you with me longer - again, I wanted you with me longer - I am selfish in that regard. I'm sorry dad, I can't help it. Yet God's plan for you after your life was more, and perhaps He needed you more with Him; and I like to think His will is being done with you there in Heaven. So, I take comfort knowing you are out of pain and free from your demands, and still very present with me and in me. Dad, I know you know this, but I want to tell you I love you so dearly, and miss you terribly, yet I know you are still with me, even now as I finish this entry! 

How Low Can You Go?!

It didn’t even begin to sink in until the morning after.

“Did that really happen?” I thought…

….street lights flashing down a desert highway kept flashing through my memory…

 “...no…” I kept saying in denial.

“…so I have a question…” sigh “…I’m just gonna ask…”

I kept replaying the scene in my mind; I kept trying to wrap my head around it; and I couldn’t 

“…ummmm…have you ever…”

I couldn’t escape it; I couldn’t shake it!

“…ummm, do you want to…”

“How could he?!” I thought.

“…the offer still stands if ya wanna…”

“I thought he was my friend!!!” I screamed in my mind.

Later that night I stood in the kitchen making small talk with my roommate before unpacking the scene from the previous night with her. I couldn’t hold it in any longer, and it was the first time I was saying it out loud. As I unfolded the scenario to her, the look of disgust on her face confirmed my instincts and feelings.

“Barbs, NO!  Are you serious?! What did you do?!”

“I mean, I was so thrown off; it caught me off guard! I was tired from the day; and he’s my friend; I just kinda laughed it off and changed the subject; I wasn’t expecting him to ask me that kind of favor. Part of me wants to legitimately punch him; like uh! I literally confided to him about my breakup from just two weeks ago and he asked me to do what? TWICE?! And Kelli, the other part of me wants to hug him and ask him what is going on that he would think that’s okay behavior to ask of me! I’m so torn Kelli!  What do I do?!  Do I address it with him? Do I let it slide; and if it comes up again, then do I say something?”

“I don’t know Barbs. It’s tough, because you two share some common friends. This is going to complicate things; it’s a tough position you’re in. I don’t envy you at all right now.” 
At that point my feelings and thoughts were confirmed: what happened in that car ride wasn’t okay. The dilemma I faced was: what do I do about it? At the very least, I knew I needed more perspective and advice - and advice from friends that don't have ties to him. I needed objective perspective. 

Days later I rehashed the situation over the phone with my adopted big brother, Jason. His male perspective aligned consistent with my roommate.

“Nah, B; that’s pretty low level shit! He’s an asshole! It would have been less fucked up if he had suggested something that offered you BOTH some benefit – I mean, it still would’ve been low considering you’re fresh from a breakup! But at the very least there would have been a sliver of a redeeming factor – something! Make no mistake, it still would’ve been low level douche baggery - but this…nah! He literally would have been the only one getting any kind of satisfaction! And in a time where you’re vulnerable – that’s pretty deplorable! I know it’s tough because you two have been friends for a while and share a core group of friends, but no! What I might do is keep your distance from him.”

“Yea Jason, but I’m a forgiving person, maybe if I just talk to him, mayb….”

“No Barbs, no! Yes you’re a forgiving person, but he’s not even coming to you and asking for your for forgiveness! Don’t go chasing him to give him your forgiveness!” 
And that line hit me: “Don’t go chasing him to give him your forgiveness.” He hadn’t acknowledged how out of line he was. The situation was sinking in further.

On yet another night I found myself in the apartment of my married friends, who will remain nameless. “Hey _____ can I tell you something?”

“Of course, what’s up?”

And as I echoed the scene from that late night drive that I couldn’t shake, her face told me how appalled and livid she was with this guy.

“Barbara! Are you serious?! He asked you to do what?! Twice?!  WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! That is so...no...I can’t! You need to cut him out!”

As I talked it out and sifted through the situation, and a bit of bias due to friendship, her husband chimed in from his computer.

“Barbs, do not, under any circumstance try to ‘talk to him’ about it. Don’t be that woman who thinks you can change a man by rationally talking to him! He needs to be punished; guys learn through punishment.  So here are your options. Option one: ya physically beat him! Option two: humiliate him and publicly call him out on it! And option three: leave, just walk away, and don’t look back.”

“But, I care about him, he’s my friend, what if there’s something deeper going on?”

“Barbs, if you really care about him, you’ll leave. Because, if you stick around, he’ll simply look at you as an option, a toy, and it’ll happen again.  You’ll be enabling him. What if my daughter came to you with this situation, what would you tell her to do?”

As I thought of his daughter - my goddaughter - it really started to sink in. I had my clarity as I said with a sigh, “I’d tell her to leave.”

As the severity of what happened that night in March hit me even heavier after talking to my married friends, I realized: this is going to change everything! And three and half years of friendship with this guy was weighing on my chest, as it was all about to come to an end. 

Now, at the risk of exposing myself, please let me be completely transparent – there is an important piece to this situation. And if I am to write with integrity, honesty is important. I’m not that innocent. Growing up in a fairly sheltered and conservative Catholic household; retaining my innocence was something my parents emphasized - as well as my church community. And while I’ve been able to retain most of it as a 31 year old woman, I have fallen short; I have walked the line; and I have crossed and re-crossed that line multiple times. It’s not something I'm necessarily proud of, yet it’s something I also don’t regret. It’s a part of my life I have struggled with; evaluated; and reevaluated. I’ve had in depth conversations with friends, family members, and even a priest and my former spiritual director - who's a nun – about this line I’ve crossed. During this time of exploration (for lack of better words) this former friend made a move on me, and we crossed into the realm of past “just friends.” Now while we didn’t work out romantically it was through the mediation of a mutual friend that we were able to “smooth things over,” or so I thought! Nevertheless that was a decent time ago; it wasn't one-sided; and I wasn’t fresh from a breakup either.

Regardless of our “history,” the demeaning request he asked of me was just that: demeaning, degrading, disrespectful and unacceptable. Two weeks after a breakup, with the combined fact that I had confided with him that morning the circumstances of the breakup: add a layer of insensitivity and disregard! The fact that his request would benefit him only: toss in a layer of selfishness! And while some might tell me: “well, I can see where you’re coming from, but that’s kind of normal in today's’ society.” You know what else is “normal?” Shootings, racism, corruption and lack of manners - but like these examples, it doesn’t make the behavior any more permissible; it doesn't make it right; or least of all – okay!  Bottom line: no woman deserves to be preyed on with such degrading requests; particularly when she’s vulnerable; least of all from a “friend.” Bottom BOTTOM line: it’s disrespectful!   

It’s true what they say: when it rains it pours. And my storm certainly was clouding my judgement. Perhaps it was the three and a half years of friendship that was clouding my judgement; or maybe it’s the fact that we do in fact have history; possibly it’s the fact we share a handful of common friends (which exponentially complicated the situation); I don’t know if it was the fact I was fresh from a breakup and simultaneously dealing with those emotions; or the stressful push of preparing for a 4 hour exam for my master’s program; or the hectic grind of day to day teaching and grad school midterms; or a car accident I faced; maybe it was an argument I had with my mom and the frustration I felt from that; as all this was happening all at once I was sufficiently overwhelmed! My cup runneth over! Yet after talking to Kelli, Jason and my married friends, I had the clarity I needed as everything was confirmed as they each helped me to realize what I already knew and felt to be true.  

Despite the clarity, advice and counsel they happily gave me, the severity of that car ride truly did not hit me till about a month after the fact. One afternoon, as I’m running errands on a Saturday, driving down the 57 freeway with the Angels Stadium to my right as I’m exiting, a common phrase that’s used as an insult pops in my head out of nowhere, and my mind goes right back to that late night car ride with him in the driver’s seat as he asked a favor of me, not once, but twice. And the connotation of the common insult rushes to my mind! It hit me: I was resorted to an insult – a vile, vile insult! Like a ton of bricks, rage takes over and I erupt in a fit of whaling and sobbing tears! The slow dripping bucket of severity finally tipped over and drenched my consciousness! And the rage of tears continued for several minutes in my car! Amidst the slow tedious process of wrestling with the severity of the situation certain hard and painful realizations occurred to me.

...The sight of his name popping up on my phone from a group chat caused my blood pressure to increase tenfold. I can’t stay in the chat. I had to remove myself from the chat.

...This is going to make the others in the group question me – what do I tell them?

...After leaving this group chat, how will this affect my friendship with the others in the group?

...Will my friendship with the others be able to stay resilient?

...Do I even disclose what happened with the others? Will they justify his actions?

...With my graduation around the corner, I could not justify sending him a graduation announcement or invitation – hell no! If I’m just an object to him, how could I expect him to respect the level of education I worked so hard to achieve?!

And as these things all unfolded I was questioned by our shared friends. Had it not been for the others’ questioning about the situation, and their push, I would have been content NOT telling him why I was removing myself from his life. And as much as I wished he had simply owned up to his behavior and been humble and apologetic about his actions – he wasn’t!

Doesn't remember that part of the car ride? That’s convenient! I call bullshit! He seemed to remember everything else from the day. Even as he approached my house and woke me up (as a car ride nap was the only thing I could think to do, to escape the uncomfortable situation), his mannerisms in waking me up were so rude and so cold. Was his ego and confidence bruised; is that why he subtly lashed out at me? Oh, but he remembers that; and simply says I was passed out cold, and thought smacking my leg would do the trick in waking me from my nap. Be a little kinder, and think a little harder next time. Regardless I wish I could also block that out of my memory – but I can’t. As a woman, getting a degrading request like that – twice – while being trapped in a car won’t be something I forget easily. But truly, I wish I could block it out as easily as he did. Perhaps my refusal made it easy to block out; perhaps and just maybe.

And while his feelings are hurt and ego bruised from hearing through the grapevine that he didn’t get an invitation to my graduation and felt like I treated him like a stranger, my response is layered. My understanding side says: okay, perhaps I could have told him directly rather than him hearing through the grapevine. On that note, he had an opportunity to hear it from me directly, but dropping the ball on talking face to face is on him; and following up four days later (close to midnight) with a half-baked apology and passive aggressive line to follow isn’t exactly my idea of keeping your word; much less showing me any level of consideration or respect. My self-respecting side says: oh well, then treat me at a level that’s worthy of a graduate level graduate. Treat me like a lady – not a street walker! And at the very least, own up to the behavior and try not to hide behind selective memory, or use pride as a shield. Lastly, don't try and bruise me with blame as a means to defect and escape the guilt of those actions. Simply put – man up!

After a very abrupt ending to the conversation I showed him the door, as the deafening silence of our tense footsteps echoed the hall of my place before I locked the door behind him without a word of goodbye. I stood utterly dumbfounded! He coped out with selective memory, and hid behind his pride; he tried to turn it around on me and make himself out to be the victim; he couldn’t even man up…damn!

As time and space has allowed me to reflect further on this fallout, I’m left with a few thoughts. First, is (God forbid) this ever happen again with another male friend I’ll know better how to react in the moment: “pull over; I’ll call a damn Lyft or Uber to take me home!” Through experience comes wisdom; and through wisdom comes prudence in how to react in situations. In this case, I am grateful for four individuals who helped me respond with the proper prudence. Second thought is despite the inevitable change in dynamics of that group of friends, and my change in friendship with each of them, I am grateful that there is some resilience with them. Undoubtedly it won’t be the same with my absence from the group. Yet, all the same I am glad to still have them in my life in some capacity. Third is – be it divine intervention or timing or life – I am grateful for new friendships; and friendships of people who share my Catholic faith. Short tangent: it was after the new year I made a New Year’s resolution to become more active in my faith and thus started exploring Catholic young adult groups in Orange County. Through that – and right before all this transpired – I had started to make and develop new friendships that share my faith, and my place in life as a single 30 something year old women with a healthy level of sarcastic humor. Amid the emotional chaos, it’s been refreshing and quite a blessing when I consider the timing of these new friendships that came about. God truly has impeccable timing, and it has been a source of refreshing hope! But I digress. Lastly, I hope this guy never does anything like this again - to any other woman. I hope he thinks of his sister and his mother, if they were to face a similar situation, and how he might feel if they were ever treated the way he treated me. And at the risk of letting go of his pride - and even though he couldn’t admit it to me (and likely nobody else) - I hope he can at least admit to himself at night when he goes to sleep that he does in fact remember his actions, and that he was out of line, on so many levels. For at the end of the day, pride is a lonely companion to lie to. And while I can forgive him for his actions, I won’t ever forget. And thus he has lost my respect and my trust; and without these two elements there is no reason to continue. To him I say take care but I won’t be there to see him through!

“The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”

~Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Beautiful Goodbye

I can’t…

I can’t stop…

I can’t stop going back to us…

As much as I wish...

And as much as I try…

I can’t erase the memories…

I can’t erase those stupid, wonderful memories of us…

It seemed so right; our connection was so tight. The moment we met - that silly mix up of a first encounter. I mistook a stranger for you; because what are the odds two couples would meet for the first time on the same street corner? I took it as a funny first time mix up - like a good luck sign. Silly me! Stupid me! You were so kind - a gentle soul I could tell. And five hours later it was the most natural I have felt on a first date. Was it your spell?

Tell me…

Tell me please…

Do you think about me…

Do you think about me, like I think about you…?

The way you enchanted me on that third date; I thought: was it fate? The soft subtle look of seduction in your eyes as you looked at me over your Ray Bans as I opened the door in response to your text, “I’m here.”  Butterflies - sweet butterflies. Those damn sweet butterflies! A creative date that started in the warm, bright presence of the sun. And as the ten hours flew by, we bid goodbye as you walked me to my door, and kissed me goodnight at midnight.  It was our first, and I was glowing. You had me hooked. Was that real as you think of your repeal?

How could...

How could I forget...

How could I forget how you made me feel…

You never pressured me and were always a gentleman. Your chivalry was unparalleled. Every door you opened; every bill you insisted on footing; the compliments ever flowing and pure; you initiated so many of our steps. And the respect; you never treated me like an object! A man who took me to Mass every week. You even welcomed the opportunity to pray with me - I was all but in grateful glee! A man who not only told me how beautiful I was, but didn’t shy away from real conversations with controversy; with dirt and grime; and talks that wasn’t always pretty or easy. You were always willing to roll up your sleeves. And all the same, you still came after me. It seemed genuine and true. Was it; was it genuine then? Or was I the fool in this game for two?

I wish…

I wish I could…

I wish I could ease...

I wish I could ease the reminiscence of you…

You weren’t just kind in word and deed; you were generous with time and treasure! And it always seemed to be your pleasure! You really did take the lead! Certainly a romantic at heart! That night you asked me. It was perfect! A stormy night, and we had each other to ourselves. We cooked together; ate and toasted together; and cozied up and watched a rental together. Credits proceeded and as we were wrapped in each others embrace, listing to the soft lyrics of Michael Buble as the sound of the rain wrapped us in that moment, we sighed in content; without a single word. And it was good; it was so, so good. As we soaked up the moment with each other, you proceeded by reaching for a box, before presenting it to me. A gift? For me? That necklace (sigh) that necklace had so much meaning and thought. The pearls; the leather strand; and the Catholic hallmark icon. A bit of you, a bit of me; and our Catholic faith at the center of it all. As I sat, listening to you - not knowing what time it was - you asked me to be yours. And in that moment, I smiled with a sigh. My answer was yes. We were so happy then. Tell me please, was that real? Or was it just perhaps a facade and I was simply your cough syrup, or perhaps your distraction?

If only...

If only I could stop…

If only I could stop thinking…

If only I could stop thinking of us….

The night you met my mother; let’s not forget you meeting my brother. They were so excited to meet you.  And the way Joey’s face lit up; and the way his face perked up when you told him you’d play video games with him. You can’t understand how much that gesture meant to him, and how much that gesture meant to me. Yet again - you fooled me! I was the sucker! And you’ll never know the face of disappointment I faced on him when I told him you wouldn't be playing with him. “What…? But...why? I was really looking forward to playing with him. What happened between you two Barbara?!” “I’m sorry Joey, I was looking forward to a lot with him too Joey...believe me.” Let’s not forget how I met your brother and his significant other. They were so warm and welcoming. We had such a lovely time chatting and munching! And their little boy - your nephew - he was so cute to hold! I felt so content and at ease with them - I thought for sure I received their confirmation and their affirmation.

Does…

Does the feeling…

Does the feeling of my touch…

...does it linger the way yours lingers on me?

Your touch; the memory of your touch still is haunting. It was so kind; it was so gentle and sweet; and it was so comforting and curing. Yet, this task of letting it fade is daunting; as I feel it to be taunting. I felt safe in your arms. You had a way about you. The way you’d play with the rings on my fingers; and the way you’d caress my fingers - slowly...one by one, gently and slowly. It was so sweet. The times you held my face; the moments you ran your fingers through my hair in your firm embrace; in your safe warm embrace. I miss your sweet, firm affection; it was so sensual. Feeling the rhythm of your breath, and the trace of your scent. When our eyes locked, and you gazed into my eyes; and it put you in awe. I thought maybe I was putting a spell on you as well. But I suppose I was the only one that fell. How do I undo the feeling and the impact of your touch?  

Do you…

Do you remember…

Do you remember the feeling from that night…?

The night in the rain. A moment so plain. I walked you out to bid you goodnight. You took me in so close, and pulled my hood over my head before you did your own; and our foreheads kissed before our lips touched, and touched again, and again and again. And as the drops from the evening sky began to soak us with each passing moment, neither one of us had the slightest care of it at all. Surly time must have slowed down in that plain moment; that simple beautiful plain moment. How could I forget your nervous question for permission in that moment as well! It was so playful; and it was so funny and sweet. And as I gave you my consent, and we both smiled in simple joy; I thought: he likes what he sees.

If only…

If only I could

If only I could have a case of amnesia.

It would…

It would fade away…

It would fade away the bittersweet memories…

Tell me, where is the stop button on this track? Then maybe I can take your words off repeat. Please, tell me how to make ‘em stop playing back to back. They were such sweet words you said to me. Do you recall? Did you consider those words before you served them to me? “I treasure you.” Did you mean it? “Being next to you is so lively and warm. Your company is really nice and warm hearted and I appreciate it." Were those words you said genuine and true; or was it just lip service too? “I care about you.” “You are so sweet, thoughtful, supportive and understanding.” Were those words honest and true too? “I can’t wait to see you and be with you,” “I’m here for you.” and "I'm happy you're in my life." Tell me, were those sayings bona fide? Even the pet names…”babe,” “sunshine” “Barbara Jean,” and my favorite “my darling.” Tell me, was the intentionality in your spoken affection true? Because their effect has reversed and now making me blue.    

The image...

The image of you

The image of you walking towards me…

...it remains...

The flashbacks of you walking towards me, and the feeling of weakness I felt. Your presence undeniably made me melt. The glow in your handsome smile; the look of your dapper style; the sweet glow in your eyes; the smooth comb of your suave hair; and your devenere physique; and to recall that image of you wanting me. Your pursuit of me; and your desire of me was heartwarming. Was it authentic; was it legitimate?   

And…

And that long…

And that long, lasting goodbye…

It came out of thin air; that night you ended our love affair. You had me convinced; you had me hooked; and I never saw it coming. You really did have me blind sighted. Everything was going so smooth and swell! Yet as you started the beginning to our end, I couldn’t believe it. No! Why?! It’s not fair - we were such a great pair! I was so numb; dumbfounded and hurt. What could I say? Was it me? What did I do wrong? I was so shattered - because for the first time I really thought I had found a special someone. You really built my hopes up. I begged and bargained, and I asked all the questions. And as you sat with me - patient and kind - I knew the one reason why was indeed significant. And your one reason why...was my one and only red flag, as I moved forward with you. It finally caught up to you. I didn’t care though; I didn’t want to let you go! And as I asked all kinds of questions, and you answered every single one; the reality was weighing stronger and heavier; till finally the tears came rushing out and I buried my face. I buried my heartbroken face next to you, and I wept in sorrowful tears! That last meal we shared I don’t regret; even if it was under a different mindset. A beautiful location, and a delicious meal; and even though we were both somber, the space and the view combined with the presence of you made it somehow sweet. And for what it’s worth, thank you for that generous gift - it was truly bittersweet!

And as much as you still cross my mind; and as much as I miss you; and as much I struggle with letting your memory fade; and as much as I am still sad that we had to end, I know you were still a gift to me - even if it was brief. Perhaps God knew that I needed you for the short time we had; to show me what it truly means to be treated like a lady; and what it truly looks like to be pursued with intentionality, romance and respect; and to know what that all really, authentically feels like. And maybe God put you in my life to show me how a true man (and true gentleman) treats and pursues a woman. You truly have set the bar high - and for that I am grateful! Despite our end, I am still grateful for my time with you, and our time together!

And maybe - just maybe - I was a gift to you as well. Maybe God knew you needed me - even for that short time. In a time when you were so bruised and battered; your heart had been stretched to it’s limits and taken for granted. In your words, “you’re such a breath of fresh air.” For what it’s worth, I am glad; and I am grateful that I could be a comforting presence to you. I am glad to have shared our faith and prayer together, and for it to feel so true!. I am grateful to be open, honest and willing to ease your worries, and redefine some status quos too. I am glad to be a woman to be supportive of you; to be a woman to show you care, faith and humor. I’m honored to be this kind of comforting woman to you; for our time to be a way for you to renew. I am happy to act in a way that was heartwarming and healing for you. And for what it’s worth, I sincerely hope you take our time and treasure it the way I do, and take it to know how you deserve to be treated and treasured!  

And please…

And please know…

Please know that I meant...

I meant every word that I said; and I still do. You have a good heart and a kind soul. And as the days pass one by one, since we said our last goodbye, I still think of you; and I wonder do you too? Does the memory of me still idle, perhaps like fleeting deja vu? I wonder how you are, and I sincerely hope and pray you are doing well to take care and be true. I know you have a long road ahead, but remember that God has you. Keep your head up, and that faithful heart up times one hundred and two! The clouds will clear and the warm sun will shine on you again; of this I have no doubt to be true!

With warm caring affection,

Your Barbara Jean