The day my father died, I became the head of the household. There was so much to be done and it all had to be done in a timely, orderly manner. I was literally holding his hand as he took his final breathe. At that moment, it was like he handed me the baton and it was my turn to be the adult, take care of things, to be the “proud homeowner” as he would say when there was another repair bill to be paid.
Fortunately, my son was at my side and he helped me make the necessary phone calls. There were no plans for a service, it’s just how my family is, so I waited for my brother to drive into town before I allowed them to take my father. For two hours, the house was still and peaceful, but I had already started the chain of events with making the proper calls and emails, being the dutiful daughter I had always been to my father. I wanted him to be proud of me still, no crying, there was work to be done.
When my brother arrived, things changed. I clung to him for comfort as they removed my father from his home for the past 52 years. No one suggested that I leave the room, I wish they had. Rigor mortis had set in and they had difficulties with getting him through the doorway. It was like he was fighting to leave and I watched in horror as they took the one man in my life, that no matter all the arguments, no matter all the lies, stood by my side.
In my usual fashion, when dealing with trauma, I began to clean the house. My son and brother seem to have this same affliction and within a matter of hours, the living room was no longer a hospice facility and it was as if the whole matter have never occurred. Legal matters were being handled, files created, my dad would have been so proud. I really don’t remember much more, except for the fact that I did all of this without “the pilot” at my side. I honestly don’t even remember him calling me to see how I was doing.
It had already been discussed and I fully expected him to move in with my son and I, but there was hesitation. However, four months later, he became my housemate. It didn’t feel quite right, but I was glad for his presence. Emotionally, I was stable, but drowning in grief. A couple of months later, I found out that my company was eliminating my position at work and I would need to find a new job. I had always heard that one should not make major decisions for at least a year after losing someone close to them and here I had already made the decision to take over the house, have “the pilot” move in and find a new job within six months.
I did find work and life kept rolling along. My relationship with “the pilot” kept rolling along as well, even though I struggled with my depression and issues with the new employment, he remained supportive as always. However, I still never met anyone in his family and I always felt like I was kept at arms length. He started working more overnight flights, which he had stopped doing in efforts to be with me more, but things change. He told me that he was having issues at work, someone had embezzled from the company and that he was only receiving a third of his actual pay and the rest was in the form of an IOU, so he stopped paying me rent. I figured if something like that were to happen to me, he would help me, so I helped him and started keeping track of how much he owed in back rent.
Increased family and financial issues plagued me, but I kept going and he remained supportive, but there was a growing distance between us. There was still much laughter, but not as much playfulness. He had always possessed incredible self esteem and it appeared to be fading. I wrote it off as the work issues wearing him down and remained confident that he loved me, he was mine and only mine.
We had been living together for over two years and even though our relationship was not ideal, I honestly felt that I would spend the rest of my life with this man. He was making attempts to pay me some rent, he helped me with my personal matters, he was loving and supportive and we still had a healthy physical relationship. Then, he began to work more and more overnight flights which fed my depression. Something was happening and I just didn’t understand why.
The details are cloudy, but a story began to reveal itself. There was a lending of an air conditioner I had stored in the basement to someone in need, someone he worked with and his wife. He told me that the wife was someone he had dated before she had married this man that he worked with and that she had previously worked for the airlines as well. I had received a phone message from this woman telling me that I didn’t know what “the pilot” was up to.
I confronted him and he told me a very detailed story about how maybe she was trying to get back at him for how he had treated her when they dated and that all he was doing was trying to help them. I told him that I was choosing to believe a man I knew for nine years over a woman I didn’t know. It was at that time, I somehow realized that my phone was set to not notify me when I had phone messages and I found more from her from a previous month. She spoke again about how I didn’t know what he was up to and asked if I lived with him and maybe someday I will pick up the phone and talk to her so she could set me straight. My head was spinning, but I did confront “the pilot” and told him that he needed to make this stop and to do it without going to jail. He agreed and said that he didn’t understand why she was doing this, but he would make it stop. I also demanded that he give me her phone number and the one of her husband and I saved them to my phone. I have my phone set so that if an unknown contact tries to call me, it goes directly to voice mail. This way, if she were to call me again, I would know it was her. I didn’t want to talk to her, but I wanted to know if she was calling.
He had come home to find me sitting in the darkness on the front porch. He asked if I was okay, I really didn’t know. I needed the truth, I have always needed the truth, no matter how ugly, how painful, I needed to know the truth about what was going on. We had a discussion and I told him that I would never need him, I wanted him and how that was so much better. We talked about how I had always tried my best to take care of his needs so he would not have a reason to wander. He told me that there were never any complaints in that department. He assured me that we were okay and that we would get through this. In exhaustion, I laid my head on his chest, all felt right in my world and I told him that maybe I did need him after all.
We headed up to bed and turned on the TV. We began to watch “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”, a show we had agreed to only watch with each other, something we would share with each other and be ours. Then, my phone chimed, letting me know that I had received a message. It was 2 am 9/4/18 when reality hit me. It was a message from her and nothing would ever be the same again.
To be continued…
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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