Sunday, December 9, 2007

How It All Began

There's a reason I dread when the phone rings late at night and there's a reason I freak when my Dad leaves me voice mails that don't end with, "And everything is okay," even after we made a pact that he must always end voicemails with, "And everything is okay."

We made this pact because my Dad NEVER calls me unless it's really, really bad news. Although, lately, he's caught me off guard, sometimes just calling to say "hello." This really throws me... as he has an incredible aversion to even using a telephone to the point that if it is ringing in the house he will walk over to it and pick it up and hang up on whomever is calling.

I can only guess it's because my family has learned that in a day YOUR WORLD CAN BE TURNED UPSIDE DOWN, it might be last time you speak to someone you love, that you can look away for a moment and then the unspeakable can happen.

On the day that I learned David had died, everything was okay. I was sitting in my office on the TV show I was working on and looking over my notes on a script and would it be funnier if she said this or would it be funnier if she said that, when I decided to call home and I knew because my father has an aversion to even picking up the telephone that the fact that he had indeed picked up the telephone that something was very, very wrong.

"What's wrong?" And he told me. And I started not so much immediately crying as howling and wailing and tears were not just streaming but spouting. I know I kept screaming, "What? What?" even though, I knew very much what was what. David had been murdered. The police had found his ID in his pocket and called our home, thinking my Dad was his Dad, thus making it my father's responsibility to call my uncle and tell him that his son had been killed. "Whatttttt?"

I have never had this feeling before. Not through all my father's surgerys, donating my kidney to my dad, my cousin Michael's death when I was fourteen, not even when my younger cousin had cancer when I was sixteen.

The room came up on it's side. The wheelie office chair I was in smashed into my desk. I stood up but the floor beneath me was giving way, tipping more and more on it's side. I was shaking so hard I couldn't keep my balance. There were attempts at calls to bosses and co-workers and assistants and "I have to leave NOWs!" I ran out of the building not even quite sure where I would go.

And the howling wouldn't stop.

I walked by co-workers, writers, production people, costumer designers wheeling their costumes, electricians pushing their cable carts, caterers laying out their morning spreads and I did not care and I did not stop howling. All the way to my car and all the way home.

I got in my bed and thought, "This nightmare is just beginning."


Tonya said...

Wow, adventure girl. I don't know what to say. I can't even imagine. So as lame as it is to say, I'm really sorry! :( It's been a tough couple of years it sounds like. I hope you can get some peace through this blog. It certainly brings a smile to my face, as I'm kind of going through down times myself. keep posting!

ShyOne777 said...

I'm stunned... and speechless, your courage and honesty are really amazing.

adventure grrl said...

Hi Ladies,
Have I sufficiently freaked EVERYBODY out? I hope it's okay to talk about uncomfortable things because the more I talk about uncomfortable things, the stronger I feel, the less alone I feel, the better I feel. And the closer to the other side where all the sunshine is, I feel.

Tonya said...

nope, you didn't freak me out at least. just a very vivid recap of something that really affected you at one point in your life and I can tell wrting is like therapy for you. Your topics are very relatable on so many levels and I for one, appreciate your honesty and candidness.

adventure grrl said...

Tonya, Virtual hug x 10. I mean it, thank you.

Midge said...

To: Adventure Grrl

I know I'm late to the party. I just stumbled upon your blog and am reading through old posts to get the history.

Thank you. Thank you so much.

I get depressed a lot and I spent my senior year of college in bed. So I can relate to the not-leaving-your-bed part of this.

I've never had a relative be murdered so I'm not gonna touch that one.

I kow this comment is long - please bear with me, I do have a point - I promise.

Thanks for having the courage to write about it. The death, it's circumstance and how it effected you and continues to effect you. It's helpful to you and to people like me. And you're right taking about uncomfortable things does make us stronger. Keeping secrets, or even just keeping things in and stoing them and not letting them out makes us weaker and sicker.

I'm sure i'm not the only one out here who would say that. So thanks.

And don't ever ask if it's okay to write about something on your blog. IT'S YOUR BLOG. And if others have a problem with what you say it's their problem. They don't have to read it.

Okay I'm done. Thanks again.

-Laura - AKA Midge