For years I’ve been joking about my fear of being stranded and eaten by bears whenever I go someplace out in the middle of nowhere alone. That fear has intensified since Kim has been gone. I leave my house as little as possible, because I just know bears are hiding everywhere — the park where I walk Chester, the supermarket, the library, the backseat of my car….
How did I not know that Stephen Colbert is all over the bear thing?
I became aware of all this because of Defenders of Wildlife’s war on Stephen Colbert’s war on bears. Cloris Leachman’s personal plea to Stephen is hilarious. What a brilliant campaign!
Kudos to Defenders of Wildlife, Stephen, and Cloris for bringing the serious plight of bear endangerment to public awareness in a playful way. I hope it helps.
My first day got off to a rousing start early this morning — way too early — when the phone rings and makes me literally jump out of bed. It’s a guy from some medical company asking if I need another tank of oxygen delivered.
This was either the Universe’s way of telling me to Just Breathe™, or to kick me in the proverbial balls with the most annoying wake-up call ever.
Either way, Universe, you have an evil sense of humor. I like you.
I made it to Tahoe yesterday. The drive up actually went really well.
It was snowing when I got here. One year ago, to the day, Kim and I were leaving Tahoe (I’m here a week later than usual this time) and we were driving in a freak snowstorm; one year later, I was arriving in snow. It was hard not to tie them together, emotionally. Several times I caught myself thinking, “Maybe this is a continuation of that same day, maybe I just dozed off in the car and it’s still May of 2010 and the past twelve months never happened,” but if they hadn’t happened, Kim would have been with me. And he wasn’t.
Thankfully the snow wasn’t sticking. Even though I’ve lived in snow before, I’ve never driven in it. Last year I was so grateful that Kim was driving, because I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do or how to get myself out of here. So when the snow started coming down and I was still miles from reaching the cabin, I had a mini heart attack, imagining the worst. Stranded on the grade, freezing in my dinky car at the side of the road, being eaten by bears. Because in my worst-case scenarios, there are always bears. And they are always hungry. And I am always their buffet of choice.
But needless to say, since I am typing this, I did not end up as a pic-ee-nic basket for Yogi and Boo-Boo.
The weather on the drive was really schizo. I literally ran into everything possible. Sunny and hot, sunny and cold, raining, raining with the sun shining, completely grey and overcast, overcast and snowing, sunny and snowing. There were several points where it changed every few hundred feet. Bizarre, but also kind of fun, because it was so weird.
I stopped in Historic Auburn for a pee/rest break and coffee and ended up buying a bunch of antiques from a small shop. The woman running the shop was elderly, so my “quick pit stop” ended up taking more like two hours. But it was nice and I wasn’t fussed.
I was taking photos of the main drag and ended up getting one that was totally grey, one where the street is half-grey-half-sunny (from when the clouds were shifting), and one in full sun. All in the space of about 60 seconds.
Just before getting to Auburn, a song came on — just one of the ones that’s on a playlist I’ve listened to a million times in my car — and it suddenly made me miss Kim so badly, I started crying. I don’t know why. Although it’s one of my favorite songs, and my list of favorites is really long, it isn’t a song that I ever associated with Kim particularly. I’ve heard it hundreds of times since he died, and it never affected me that way before. I think it was just the combination of the song happening to be one of my Tahoe-specific chill-out tracks combined with the fact that I was actually heading to Tahoe, where Kim would never actually be with me again, that suddenly made me feel very sad and alone:
I started crying around the 2:13 mark.
Before leaving home, I taped a photo of Kim to my glove box. That way I can look over and see him and feel like he’s still traveling with me.
Still Along For The Ride
When I arrived at the cabin, I did what I’ve always done: I made up the beds. For both of us. We always opted to stay in the living room, where we can actually see the lake through all the windows and the sliding door, and be in the same room with the fireplace. The living room has two day beds that also double as couches. I’ve always taken the covers off and pushed them together to make one double bed, and I have my side and Kim had his. So I made it up the same way, even getting the extra pillows out of the closet for both our sides. Then I put a framed photo I’d brought of Kim on the table next to his side, so I can look over and still see him there.
The next two weeks will be spent the same way every moment of the last 11 months has been spent: waiting for Kim to arrive and completely glossing over the fact that he never actually does.
I’ve wanted to have a place I could work through thoughts since Kim and my mom died, but seeing as how just getting out of bed each day was challenging, it took me a while to get around to it. So instead, I’m starting this journal at a monumental time, a time I’ve been simultaneously looking forward to and dreading for the past eleven months….
I’m getting ready to go on my annual trip to Tahoe alone, without Kim for the first time. May 9th is the big day. Saying it’s going be hard — both emotionally and physically — is putting it mildly.
I’ve been worried enough about whether I can handle the driving on my own. (Kim always did all the driving when we were there, and some days in the car were long, sometimes as much as 10 hours, because we always stopped and piddled in various special spots along the way.) I’ve been worried I might get there and completely fall apart. I’ve been worried my CFIDS might make me too sick to get myself back home. I’ve been worried my car might break down in a deserted spot and I’ll be eaten by bears. I’ve been worried about leaving my animals for two weeks, especially Chester The Dog.
When my mom was killed, and then again when Kim was killed, I thought I would become fearless. I didn’t think there was anything left to fear, because I had already lost everything that was most important to me. But instead, I became more afraid than ever. Of EVERYTHING. When I mentioned this frustration to Kim, shortly before he died, he said, “Maybe nothing will ever change that. Maybe you will always be afraid, because you know you can never really control anything.” But I really thought I’d suddenly have this big balls-out skydiving-without-a-parachute feeling that nothing could ever get me now, because I’d already been gotten as good as I could get, and I’d turn into some sort of brave superhero.
I want to feel that, dammit!
I came down with something earlier in the week. At first, I hoped it was just a rough CFIDS day, but it became apparent it was something more. I think it’s another respiratory infection. Great. Now I’m even more afraid of managing the driving on my own. It wouldn’t be bad if it were just fever and chills, but it’s also severe stomach upset and nausea (the acid, oh my god!), crushing headaches, and dizziness.
I was planning to spend this week packing in bits and pieces, so it wouldn’t be a mad dash the day before as it’s been in past years, but haven’t been able to do any of it. Now I’m in full panic mode. I keep telling myself if I have to go unwashed and wearing dirty clothes for two weeks, oh well … it’s not like there’s going to be anyone around to notice.
