By: Vix <> From: Vix [jmiller2=at=miworld,net]
Wed Mar 26 17:00:25 1997
They Come in Threes
By Vix
Location: Cumberland, MD US

Age:[ 33 ] Gender:[ f ]

Comments: occasional hospice work. Usually its spiritual. And everyone deserves a peaceful passing.

	  I feared losing my mother as long as I can remember. When my father
died in 1975 I was 12. I was sad, but remember thinking, "at least I
still have Mom, I couldn't bear that." Mom always said big events,
good or bad, come in threes. I spent the early 90's caring for my 
mother. I worked on getting as much closure as possible. I became ill
myself in Dec. 91. the next six months were hellish as she and I
pathetically struggled to care for each other. Meanwhile, my x 
boyfriend reentered my life. Needy as ever, Matt returned to me 
wounded. His inflated ego had crashed the previous year..sending his
once controlled drinking and bipolar disorder tumbling down. I still
had unresolved pain from when we parted in 90. I dated his bestfriend
on the rebound, which resolved nothing. Matt and I had been through
seven rocky years together. I had seen it all with him. Ironically, 
Matt was a more sensitive person in his illness. He helped me get 
through the fall of 92, when Mom died. I had gone through so much I 
was numb.
I got through her funeral, greeting people by taking barbs. Shakily,
I stayed in touch with a hand full of friends, who had not yet 
experienced all the things happening to me. But they were a lifeline.
Micheal was a model living in New York. We had stayed in touch since 
he moved there in 85. He fully understood my darkness, my eccentric 
art like no one else. On a trip to Virginia, Micheal broke down and 
confessed that he'd been hiding his AIDS. He had been positive for
eleven years and his body couldn't lie any longer. 
Matthew, still spiraling down, confessed that during drinking binges 
he had been having sex with various men and woman. I told him we were 
definately through.
I spent 93 recovering from the shock of losing Mom and the life that
revolved around her. I let go of the rollercoaster I had been on with
Matt. That summer my cat crawled into the engine of my car and died a
grusome death. My soul ached. The following week I fell down steps and
broke my foot. I was no longer able to work at my landscaping job. I 
lost nearly everything. I scarfed leftovers at newly vacated
restaurant tables. I was desperate. Like a baby, I wanted my mother.
I began having very spiritual visions of her that comforted me through
this rough time. By 94 things calmed. I rebuilt my life. But in my 
lonliness, I binged putting on 40 lbs. in the spring. My once muscled
dancers body was safely hidden in fat. Micheal was in touch, I noticed
him thinning. Mom was gone. I was done with Matt, not knowing for the
first time in eight years, where he was. Micheal was dying. I buried 
myself in work, spending most nights alone. In an answer to many
prayers. I ran into an old friend. With a whirlwind courtship we were m
married in March of 95. A new beginning. In May 95 the phone rang.
My sister saw Matts obituary in the paper. One of many suicide
attempts finally suceeded. I was angry at him. Traveling to his
funeral, my new husband was put to his first test. Our belated 
reception was a week away. Matt was cremated. I never saw him dead.
The funeral focused on his newest girlfriend singing. I sat there 
with my new spouse and a few of my old college gang. I spoke to Matts 
relatives, who I once knew. Very little of the service, no matter
how inventive, reminded me of Matt. I had begun a new era. In June 95
Micheal came home. He planned to live a scaled down life in the 
country. A retirement. But he kept getting sick. Trying so hard to get
well. He wanted life. He was angry that Matt tossed his life away, 
while he clung to his. In hospice, Micheal did crafts, we talked art,
and he celebrated his 31st birthday. Mike was not home to retire.
He drug himself home, like a wounded animal, to die. I stayed many 
nights, I was alone with him until ten minutes before he died.  
My mother, is always with me. My parents never saw me marry. I miss
Mom when my Lupus is flaring and I'm scared. Micheal is my spiritual
twin brother. But I had no closure with Matt and I still dream that he
is faking his death and alive somewhere. I feel a need to be 
aknowledged by his family. "Yes, you stood by him, were intimate
with him for seven years, you were special in his life." I should have
heard it from him. I need to close that door. Especially in light
of the terrific husband I have. I recently heard that Matts friend 
(who I briefly dated) also took his own life. Yes, many events have
come in threes. Like the deaths of 3 very significant people in my 
life, Mom, Micheal, and Matt.  

-- Vix . . . [ ]

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