Fall Sucks

So Summer came and went and Randy and I stayed in communication with phone calls. Not every night or even every few days, but at least once a week, maybe twice.

No way was I going to pressure him about anything. He needed however much time he needed to get settled and figure out his next direction. Besides, I was working and, as it turns out, starting to look for a new apartment as Suzanne had accepted a position with another company and was relocating to San Francisco. We had to be out of the complex by the end of October.

So September rolls into the first of October and Randy and I had been making plans for me to come up and visit around the middle of the month for a few days. The first of hopefully many. But during a conversation probably the end of the first week, Randy told me that he hadn't been feeling well and that perhaps it'd be best to postpone the trip until he was more suited for company.

I totally agreed and we decided that around Thanksgiving and we'd do the "Norman Rockwell", perhaps with his sister's family. As one of the things that RDP hated more than anything was for someone to make a fuss over him if he wasn't up to snuff. (He had a cold soon after we started dating and I did the vaporizer, soup, pedialite route and drove him crazy.) Jokingly I said, "well, it's for the better as I'd probably mother you to death."

As was our way, rather than say "Good-bye" we exchanged "I love yous" and hung up.

About a week later, I come bouncing the house from work and there's a message on my voice mail with a number I don't recognize, but an area code I do. T'was sitting there trying to figure it out when suddenly a cold chill corsed through my body.

It was Randy's sister, which meant...

He was gone.

My worst fear was confirmed when I returned the call. He'd passed the night before in the hospital where he'd been for the whole week. Sis by his side the entire time. Except for about thirty minutes when she taken a short break for a change of clothes or something to eat and that's when HE chose to leave.

Which is the way he wanted it and got. RDP was stubborn as a mule.

Cremation and services were being arranged. Now this was Wednesday and the Memorial was on Saturday so I immediately got on the phone with my father and told him best I could, that Randy had died and I was going to Portland. It wasn't a cheap weekend with tickets, hotel and such and God Bless 'em, he might not have understood, but he didn't say a word about it ever.

So flew up to Portland, met at the airport, taken to sis' house where I finally met the parents and once his dad figured out exactly what kind of "special friend" I was of Randy's, it was about time to leave. We stopped by his apartment for a few minutes and it was such a sweet little place. He'd done such a nice job fixing it up. Green walls with the white couches and the violin on the wall over them. Got the Warner Brothers Jacket (and a BIG bottle of Valium in the bathroom) and then a lonely night in a strange hotel room crying my eyes out.

Picked up the next morning and taken to Trinity Episcopal Church (lovely old stone gothic kinda place) where we gathered in the smaller of the two chapels. Don't remember a damn thing except the minister was a woman. I didn't stop sobbing the entire time. And I mean bite your fist, headache, burning tears of true misery and despair.

Then we went outside to the small Memorial Garden where some of his ashes were to be interred. A handful of dirt and that was it. (Oh and did I mention the crying?) I found myself on the way back to the airport hotel with the only two other friends of Randy's that bothered to come up for the service. Los Angeles isn't known for creating true friendships.

I'd never-ever see his face again, hear his voice or his laugh as long as I drew a breath. Part of me was missing. A great big hole. It hurt.

Unfortunately, due to a combination of things from shock to having to move at the end of the month, I lost all contact information with Randy's sister almost immediately after getting home.

The Kicker? I still went up the weekend of October 18th, but not for pleasure.

That Halloween would've been our two year anniversary of losing my heart to him.

I dislike October intensely.

Not enough to poison the candy we pass out mind you, but still the whole month just bites the big one.