Happily Ever After? Chapter 17

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Joan's life is starting into a new routine as she reflects on things and people changing within her life... or do they?

Chapter 17

               Stars

My sleep vacillated between one of sublime rest and one of total torment. During the restful periods I gently reached out and stroked the back of my beloved. During the times of turmoil, I grabbed at him in panic mode and attempted to shelter myself in his skeleton. I did everything I could think of to awaken myself from this nightmare. Even though I knew it was just a dream, I couldn’t escape the fear or the consequences that were determined to overtake me. Why was I having such a difficult time of things? All was going well, wasn’t it? Somewhere around six o’clock I gave up trying to sleep and carefully slid my body out of bed making my way downstairs as quietly as I knew how.

Although it was early, I knew there was no way that I’d be getting any more sleep this morning. I wished it was a little later. The living room and dining room sure could use a run through with the vacuum cleaner and the noise would surely awaken the rest of the household. Not sure why I always thought about dealing with turmoil by cleaning something. Yes, at this point I was certain it was some kind of defense mechanism. But? Blah, blah, blah, I’m just a fourteen year old kid. I laughed out loud at the insane game my own brain was playing with me. I was pretty sure it was a game that I couldn’t win, but I didn’t think it really mattered whether I won or lost this one.

I put on a pot of coffee and emptied out a few of the kitchen cabinets while it was perking. Yes, the cabinets had never been cleaned, apparently. I washed them down and washed off each individual item before replacing it. There were some items in those cabinets from “The Land That Time Forgot.” I was too easy to entertain. I began wondering at my own sanity or lack thereof. It seemed I was amused by the simplest of things. I cleaned out half of the cabinets and decided to take a break with a cup of coffee. The clock was moving in on seven as I finally took a break.

Yes, I was going to quit smoking, ha ha. I’d been doing well until that visit to Aunt Vivian’s last night. Now I was here with a cup of coffee in hand and almost aching for a cigarette! What a strange stupid feeling to have. I swished the coffee around rapidly in the cup in an attempt to cool it down. It felt rather hot to my lips, but I was determined to drink it as quickly as possible. When I was reasonably sure I could handle the liquid without it burning the hell out of my throat, I took the cup and tossed the contents back with one sweeping motion. It burned slightly sliding down my esophagus, but I managed to get the job done. I then ran upstairs and hit the shower before Sam could take it over. -

Friday: week one was almost done! I briefly wondered how many weeks were remaining till next summer? Thirty-six? Thirty-seven? As much as my life had changed in these few brief months, I almost couldn’t imagine where I’d be come next summer vacation. I took a lightning fast shower and ran in to get Sam out of bed. He was usually pretty good about getting up in the morning, but for some reason he didn’t want to move today.

“Yo Sam! It’s time to get up!” I yelled across the room at him doing my best imitation of Rocky Balboa. He grumbled and groaned at me and pulled a pillow over his head. Hell, I wasn’t his mother. “OK, you sleep all day if that’s what you need to do. I’m going to school!” He twisted and turned under the covers for a moment before tossing them aside and wrangling his way out of bed.

And now, the important part. What the hell was I going to wear today? I was determined to push the envelope a little further. Today I was going to wear my yellow sun dress with my blue espadrilles and my blue sapphire studs. That should shake them up if nothing else did. Was I trying to draw attention to myself? Hell, I didn’t care. I just wanted to look pretty. Simple enough, no? Maybe I needed to make some new friends at school? Hell, I hadn’t said ten words to Sally since we’d been back. In fact, I’d only seen her for about two minutes on Wednesday. I took my pills out of my bag and popped one of each. My breasts were becoming more sensitive all the time. And, my back side was expanding as well. I don’t really like talking about it, but, figured I should take note of that too.

Sam had the bathroom mirror all steamed up so I made do with the mirror over his dresser. I really did need a makeup table. Oh well, I had too many real things to worry about before I started getting completely wrapped up in my own appearance. It’s funny, as John, I never spent five minutes worrying about what I looked like. Now, well now I felt totally strange if I just let myself go. I decided in that very moment that I didn’t want to be that kind of girl. Sure, I’d take pride in my appearance, but I wasn’t going to get totally wrapped up in making everything just ‘perfect.’

“Come on Sam, we’re going to be late,” I yelled at him as he climbed out of the shower. He smiled at me hesitantly.

“Joan, you’re stunning. Are you sure you want to wear that outfit to school?” he had to ask adding doubt to my mind.

“Come on, your cereal is getting soggy,” I lied and urged him down the stairs. He practically pushed me down the stairs like I was the one responsible for the hold up. I’m not sure why I let him get away with some of those things. Maybe because they were inconsequential? There was an unofficial race to down bowls of cheerios. Sam attempted to swat me in the arm when he saw that I’d lied about his cereal getting soggy. He filled the bowls with cereal and I took care of the juice. Five minutes later we were ready to face the new day.

I smiled to myself as I put both empty bowls in the kitchen sink. Smiling, because no one over here would ever notice that the bowls weren’t where they were supposed to be. Sam started to ask me just what I was laughing about and then thought better of it. “You know Joan, you seem to be smiling a lot more these days. Is everything alright with you?” he asked with some concern in his voice. Honestly I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t want to get into it with him this morning.

The walk to school was a quiet one. I had so much to accomplish over the weekend. There’d be no real time for “just me” till… Hell, I didn’t have an answer for that one. Still, in a sense everything I did was just for me. There was a way of viewing my life as one of a series of decisions totally made for my benefit. That was the view I chose to take. We arrived and I could tell Sam was anxious to run off and talk to his friends. I didn’t want to hold him prisoner. “Go Sam,” was all I said. I didn’t need to say it twice. He kissed me gently on the forehead and was gone.

Meanwhile, I found myself looking for Darla and Sally. They were off in a corner by themselves. Thank God, Sarah was nowhere in attendance. “Sally!” I practically screamed as I ran over to greet them. “How the hell are you?” It was a serious question and not a simple greeting.

“I’m fine Joan. I’ve been wondering what happened to you? You’re not in any of my classes this year.”

“Are you sure? I thought I saw you in my home economics class.” I said and laughed.

“With Ms. Birch?” she asked softly. “I should have realized that you might be in there. I guess I simply didn’t recognize you then.” Something seemed amiss with Sally. I couldn’t tell for the life of me what it was or why, but she seemed upset about something. How could she not have recognized me? She’d been there since the beginning.

I smiled at her and asked if she was coming to our battle of the bands tomorrow night. Yeah, I thought back to ask her about the baseball game a few weeks ago. I realized that I was possibly imposing and told her that I didn’t want her to even consider it unless she really wanted to go.

“Well, Joan if you could just keep your mouth shut for ten seconds,” Darla scolded me, “you’d know that Sally very much wants to come and see us play tomorrow night,” she finished. I apologized and shut up, the bell rang and we made our way inside. Damn, the last short day for months. I took my seat to more catcalls and other obnoxious remarks and it took Mr. Baum a while to get the class calmed down. Maybe wearing the sun dress had been a mistake? Hell, the closest anyone else came to that was Joanne Swedler and she was wearing a skirt with a tee shirt. Everyone else went for jeans or shorts. I reached out for Darla’s hand and for whatever reason, she was having none of it.

I pulled my hand back without looking over at her and folded my fingers together in front of me. The noise quieted down until Mr. Baum called out my name. “Joan Peters” was met with much laughter and amusement. It was not of a positive kind. The class erupted once again. I felt like crying, but screw them. I wasn’t going to fold up that way. I was stronger than that. I smiled at them all. I finally braved a look over at Darla and she wore a look of apology. She reached out for my hand waiting for me to take it. I thought about it for just a moment before accepting her offer. I squeezed her hand gently as her name was called. The rest of the class finally gave up on the ‘show.’ Maybe it would all die down over time?

Part of me knew that was just wishful thinking. I was sure there’d be some rough times ahead. The only thing I could do would be to not dwell on it and take it as it came. Still, I had no idea what I was up against. I found myself thinking of that movie, “Boys Don’t Cry,” and shivers ran up and down my spine. I guessed I’d be safer here at home hanging out with people that I knew. Besides, no one that had met me since I transitioned had read me for a boy. It’s funny, growing up I’d never thought of myself as pretty. I guess the world had other ideas?

I’m not sure how or why but I wandered from class to class without paying any attention. I couldn’t tell you what I had third period, except who was in the class, who was teaching it etc. I was just going through the motions. I reasoned there’d be time enough to worry abut such things come Monday. Right now, I just wanted to get through this day, run home and change into more appropriate clothing and head off to the Inn to see how much I could get done. Sam was waiting for me outside when the final bell rang. I was glad to have my friend back. Yes, we were husband and wife but we were so much more than that. We were also best friends and lovers. In a way, I felt out of place with all of these kids about. That too was weird.

It was almost as if I’d been placed in some kind of aging machine and woke up ten years older than everyone else. Things that had once excited and entertained me no longer had any special allure. I was happy for the changes in a way, but in another way I missed my carefree childhood. I wondered if I’d wake up some morning filled with nothing but regrets at having let my entire childhood simply slip away.

Time to stop with all this introspection. There was life to be lived and things to be done! Sam started dragging me off in the direction of the Inn. I told him I had to go home first. He urged me to just be quiet and go with him. He told me that I could go home and change after he ate. I don’t think there was anything more important in Sam’s life than food. It seemed to be his main reason for living. Yet, he never seemed to gain any weight. He could eat all day long and still look hard as a rock. OK, so lately he was getting a little soft around the middle. I worried that he wouldn’t be able to adjust to that.

I smiled at him as I ran my hand across his stomach and we completed our journey. I looked up in awe when we arrived at the Inn. The old sign was gone. In its place was a beautiful painting. A seascape with a lone sailboat out on the open water. High above it all was a glowing full moon. In large script, for all the world to see, it read: Day’s End. It was absolutely stunning. I wondered who had made the change and when? Sam looked up at it, looked at me, and shrugged his shoulders. We made our way inside. “Aunt Melissa,” I called out as we made our entrance. “Who put that sign up out there?” I practically screamed. Not that I cared all that much. I just felt like I’d been left out of the loop.

Shouldn’t I have been kept apprised of such goings on? “What are you talking about Joan?” she answered. Something was going on here. There was no way she could not have noticed that if she had been here all morning.

“The sign out in front of the building?” I tried again.

“Oh that!” she said and smiled. “The workmen came by this morning and installed it. Do you like it?” she asked. What I couldn’t figure out was why she was asking me if I liked it? Hell, it didn’t make any difference to me one way or the other. I just felt that I should have been informed. Perhaps I was beginning to care a bit too much about the place? That sign brought back the reality of the situation. I was a worker doing a job. How, when, had I become so caught up in all of this? I couldn’t quite get a handle on my feelings.

“Alright, enough of this sign nonsense. What’s for lunch?” Sam asked. Aunt Melissa informed him that he knew where the kitchen was. Sam didn’t waste any more words and made his way to the back. Ten minutes later Sam came out with a plate piled a mile high with cold cuts. I stopped and considered things for a moment. Who was supplying all the food? It had to have been Aunt Melissa. Maybe it just all magically appeared in the refrigerator? I needed to go home and change. I wasn’t hungry at all. I felt this need to just get away.

That sign which had bowled me over at first, now had me feeling like an intruder on someone else’s party. It didn’t make any sense. I guess I’d been taking some kind of weird ownership pride over the entire project. And now? Well, now that sign brought reality home to me. I kissed Sam gently on the head and told him I was going home to change. I walked outside and stood there with my eyes locked once again on the sign. I almost felt paralyzed. Why should that simple sign be making me so sad? It didn’t make any sense.

I gave my head a quick shake, turned around, and made my way home. I stopped over to visit Shandy. I hadn’t seen her in forever, or so it seemed. I smiled wide as she ran up to greet me. She was always happy to see me. It almost made me feel guilty. I gave her coat a good rubbing, checked her water and food and said goodbye. I imagined in my mind’s eye that she was sad as I took my leave.

Back at Sam’s, I found myself feeling like an intruder all over again. I thought I was all done with those feelings. That I’d made peace with my surroundings. I ran upstairs put on a ratty tee shirt and a pair of cutoffs. I found myself in the kitchen making myself a turkey sandwich. At least this was my food, purchased with my own hard earned money. As much as I just wanted to stay there and hide, I knew that I couldn’t. I calmed myself down with my thoughts as I walked. This was merely a job. I had no vested interest here. Best to just head on in, do my job and get the hell out of there.

Still, something about that sign killed my joy for the whole job. I convinced myself that I was nuts. Back on the job, I went upstairs and dove right in on painting the guest rooms. I didn’t say a word to Auntie M or Jared as they continued to work god knows where. I was now determined to get this job completed as soon as possible. I worked straight through till seven o’clock. No thoughts of Sam, or the rest of the family. They could all fend for themselves. By the time I was finished, I had three of the guest rooms painted. I figured that I could paint two of them tomorrow morning. Jared had done a good job in prepping the rooms.

I was determined to spend the evening alone. I couldn’t get over my feelings of worry for Sam. It wouldn’t be fair of me to simply let him twist in the wind. I pulled out my cell phone and made a quick call home. “Sam?” I asked as the phone was picked up. “Sam, I really need some time alone.” I didn’t wait for him to respond. Was I actually talking to Aunt Alice? I figured it didn’t matter if that was the case. She could simply tell Sam about my decision to take off.

“Joan? Are you alright? I’ve been worried about you,” he replied. Ah, leave it to Sam to make me feel guilty. I knew I was being unfair, but I really needed to be by myself for awhile. I did my best to make him understand. I told him I’d be home in a few hours, that I loved him very much and would see him soon. I ended the call before he could provide a counter argument. OK, that done, now what was I going to do? I looked like a ragamuffin. Tattered jeans and shirt and I wasn’t what you’d call clean. I didn’t care. I walked away from the Inn without looking back. I didn’t think I could handle another look at that sign this evening. I guessed I’d better start thinking of it as ‘The End’ rather than ‘The Inn’ and chuckled briefly to myself.

The scent of the sea grew stronger as I made my way to the boardwalk. It was only after seven, but it was already starting to get dark. Fall was on its way. I reveled in the cool damp air as I walked up the ramp. Traffic on the boardwalk was light, but heavier than it would be a few months from now. It felt more like a community when it was this way with most of the transients gone. People I’d known all my life operating their businesses and happy to be there. It was really special.

I walked around for a bit, bought myself a sandwich and just took it all in. I hadn’t been to many places in my brief life, but I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather live. I stood inside the main arcade on the pier and watched the ponies go round and round. It was one of the few places that stayed open all year. I smiled to myself and went and bought a ticket for the ride.

I walked around the perimeter for a time before making my decision. The operator of the machine was getting annoyed. I was the only paying customer. He told me to take a seat already. I wasn’t going to let him ruin my mood. He finally came into view and I climbed aboard. The white charger: where I was meant to be. I wondered briefly if this meant I was having doubt about being Joan? I smiled yet again as I realized that Xena wouldn’t think so. I was all girl in my mind and in my heart, but I wasn’t and never would be a girly girl.

I closed my eyes as the ride spun around. It seemed to be going faster and faster. I thought of all that had happened and all that was yet to come in those brief minutes while on the ride. It calmed me down in ways I can’t explain. Although I looked like some poor waif as I made my exit I did indeed feel like a princess. I’d only been on the boardwalk a little over an hour. I stood there contemplating my next actions. A walk on the beach, or a walk home to my husband. I decided that I felt well enough to make the journey home. A walk on the beach wouldn’t add anything to the experience at this point.

I stopped in and bought some flowers from Mrs. Marinelli. She smiled at me knowingly as I completed my purchase. I felt like hugging her for her kindness. I wasn’t even sure what kind of flowers I’d picked out. They were pretty and they smelled nice; that was enough.

I found myself singing aloud as I made the short walk home. I began wondering if Sam would even be there waiting for me? In the past I’d been the one waiting for him all the time. I smiled yet again as I realized that it wasn’t a contest. The Inn was one block west of where I was standing. I knew what I had to do before heading on home. With my flowers held protectively in my hands, I defiantly strolled in the direction of ‘Day’s End’

I was half a block away when the sign came into view. It was lit up brilliantly for all the world to see. It truly was magnificent. The artist had captured the mood of the sea perfectly. It looked like it belonged in an art gallery and not hanging outside in front of a building. Still, it fit in perfectly. I slowly embraced the beauty of it all. This building would be here for a long time and I was in a large part responsible for its beauty. I made it to the front door and hesitated before making my decision. Would Jared be in? Hell, it was early on a Friday night odds were he was out somewhere enjoying himself. Besides I had more of a right to be there than he did. I removed my key from my purse and let myself in.

There was a noise coming from the back from the bedroom behind the kitchen. Part of me wanted to run away in fear and yet, I felt compelled to keep moving forward. The door was open and the lights were on. There stood Aunt Melissa. The easel in front of her held a painting that was an exact duplicate of the one outside. She was totally absorbed in her work and never even noticed me. I couldn’t begin to fathom what was going on. I only knew that I wasn’t prepared to find out. I turned around and slowly, quietly made my exit. There’d be time enough tomorrow to put all the pieces of this puzzle together…
 


 
 
Administrator’s Note:
 
 
I knew Darla Raspberry for less than a year, but she was in retrospect one of the best friends I have ever had. She was always there to grab me into instant messaging and talk. Her zaniness and slightly insane way of talking and thinking was a lively thing to be in. But why she was like that wasn’t revealed fully until after her death to me.

The earlier part of Darla’s life will be covered by her ex wife Linda in material she will release later.

Darla started writing “Me and Sam” as a kind of therapeutic means of coping when her life was falling apart and divulge her real life story with a dream. Darla was both Sam and Joan in her story: Sam being how she was in real life, and Joan — whom she really wished she had turned out as. And yet, in a convoluted way, Sam was also a woman from earlier in Darla’s life whom she seemed to love a lot from what I had seen.

Darla frequently passed out while writing, letting the cigarette she smoked fall on her clothing and burn them to pieces. She allowed her house to fall apart and had piles of trash all within it she crawled over. Imagine a nightmare dump with stench of waste and food. This was the house she lived in. The water pipes went bad, and because of the fear of the condition of her house, she refused to pay anyone to come and fix them. Shame, fear, and denial, which ruled her mind, allowed her to spiral down to this state.

I was aware of the fact part of her house was a mess within the seven phone conversations I had had with her (though I didn’t know the full extent that the house was an actual garbage dump and disaster until afterwards) and I was aware she had a death wish from the fact she was diabetic and still passing out, keeping her meds upstairs while she stayed downstairs. Even on the phone she tried to crawl up the stairs and I could hear it from the cell speakerphone. I had to threaten to call 911 if she didn’t get to the hypodermic shots she needed and back in a few minutes. It worked, but with her cussing me out with every imaginable word as she made it to her shots.

I loved her and knew she was in pain. I even invited a friend into our nightly messaging chats to get acquainted with her. I knew that the one I chose would be a good dominating force in her life, but in a good way, and maybe clean her up. But I was too late. Before I could pay for and get this person to go visit Darla, she died in that wreck. I didn't know it at the time, but she had run out of money. She had not held a paying job in a few years. She was barely eating in the end, she could not afford food. She didn't ask her brother for money this time, as she had in the past. We can only guess at the reason she didn't reach out for help from someone, but part of it was certainly her pride. Instead of asking for help, she took a job as a pizza delivery driver. With the medical condition she was in, this was not good

Now, pertaining to “Me and Sam,” I was influential in helping Darla focus on the plot in her drafts. We would banter and bicker about issues and she would reflect on this and change bits and pieces. Originally there was to be 4 books in all to tell this mix of dream and reality. The fourth book was cut entirely out when Darla’s financial situation started to deteriorate. The frustration was driving her to quit writing and try to work.

The ending of Book 4 was sliced into Book 3 to end the story sooner. The ending of the story was that because of emotional trauma (being transgendered and being a F to M being forced to birth when he did not want to) and exaggerated stereotypical male attitude, Sam left Joan in the story well after the birth of their son, much the same way the woman whom Darla loved drifted away in real life. Joan, the fantasy ideal version of Darla, was left as a responsible single mother to her son whom she had named Sam. Hence, the title of “Me and Sam” had a dual meaning to both the man Joan loved and her son. So at the end, she was with Sam, albeit her son. This is also the duality with which Darla herself lived with.

I did not wish to discuss the ending of this story sooner because I had had high hopes the rough scripts Darla wrote (She told me she had it penned down and was redoing them bit by bit with our nightly chats) would have turned up. Chapter 17 is the only chapter found on the hard drive. I know of four other chapters that were to involve the Inn, the pregnancy, Aunt Melissa, and Jared. Strangely enough, Joan’s mother was not mentioned towards the end — vanishing as the father had early on. A brief appearance at the end I had been suggesting might have been made, but was never finalized.

What I believe Darla was going to do, aside from the original ending, was to have Joan and Sam happily married with their son. This might have been what she had adjusted the story to be from what book 4 had been doing to split them apart. Only Darla knew what she had in mind for the real and posted ending. Sadly, none of us will never know just how the story was going to really end. Darla took that with her when she left. Her life meant a lot to me. I was trying to reach out and save her, and she knew it. But I was too late.

I believe also, that the Inn within the story, represented her cleaning her own house up from the trash pile it had become. It was fantasy though, as she never would or could.

Darla had a jovial charm in her voice. It lilted and rose up and down in the voice of Donald Sutherland. It had a kind of musical quality to it with a humor that was slightly twisted and frustrating at the same time. I miss her a lot.

On the night she died, at roughly the same reported time of death that was stated in the newspapers, I felt a presence push against me while I had lain down from being tired. The presence felt weird and slightly warm and snapped me awake from having dozed off. It was a pressure of someone on top of me and it felt like it pushed onto my face to a point on my mouth. Then the weight lifted and the presence just vanished, it wasn’t gradual. I did not understand at the time what it was. When I found out that she had died and saw the time of death, I KNEW it was her saying good bye to me.

This was inserted in addition to the chapter 17 of “Me and Sam: Happily Ever After?” with the permission of Darla’s ex-wife Linda. She will be adding extra material to this on BigCloset within her own blogging under Darla’s name. Please look there in the near future to hear things from her side of being in Darla’s life.

Loving you always Darla

Sephrena Lynn Miller
BigCloset TopShelf
 
 

Finis


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Comments

wow

I had no idea Darla was in such a bad way.

Thank you Sephy for sharing that with us.

Hugs
Joni W

one last visit with Joan & Sam

laika's picture

It was good to hear from little Joan one more time. The story progressing as always, her thoughts and deeds, doubts & hopes & small resentments, another solitary trip down to the cheap amusement park; loved the part where she felt older now than her contemporaries, with all her adult responsibilities. And Sam, stereotypical guy, Joan indulging his dudelike habits, smart not to smother him. And here's old Shandy the dog, I remember Shandy ........ and of course the whole time I was thinking sadly of Darla. Didn't expect the epilogue/epitaph at the end. It was good, thank you Sephrena. Although between this and some rather despondent blogs I'll have to say I've been a funky mood all day. Oh well, there's always tomorrow. Isn't there?
~~~hugs, Laika

Darla's pain

damn what to write?
Right now it hurts ... I'm crying ... feel sad and confused ...

I had been coming to BC/TS for a while but never read all that much. Then I found "Me and Sam". I read it over 3 days. 3 Days where I hardly stopped for food and I do not think I slept.

The story had moved me so much I desperately wanted to talk to the author. I posted comments and I hoped she would contact me. I needed to talk. Sephrena who had helped Darla with the story contacted me. She helped me through an emotionally very difficult time. She also arranged for me to talk to Darla briefly.

Funny when I finally had the chance I hardly knew what to say.

That was in summer 2007 I think.

I read other chapters as they were posted. Desperately waiting for the next one. Than one day Sephrena called me here in Germany on the phone as she some times did. She told me Darla was dead and how. She wanted to tell me since she knew how much that story had meant to me and it ripped my heart apart.

In a way I was happy for Darla that her suffering had finally ended. I hope she is in a better happier place and can finally be herself. Still it was a very sad moment. "Me and Sam" had moved me so much. It was unthinkable how things would be without it. Especially if it would never be ended.

Sephy told me even then that there should be a few more chapters and that she would try to get hold of the family and see if the chapters could be retrieved. The chances seemed slim since Darla's family had not been aware of Darla and there for would have a hard time accepting it all. Still there was some hope.

I was hoping that Darla would be able to show her wife and son a part of herself that she had not been able to show while still alive. I hoped that they would come to understand her better and come to love that part of her as much as we already did.

A view weeks later Sephy told me she had talked with Linda on the phone. She had learned of how much Darla's real life (John's life) had spiraled down wards but asked me to keep that to myself. For me it was a reminder of myself.

Spring 2002 at the end of my time in Aachen, when my company had gone bankrupt and my evening school finished I found myself with lots of time. Suddenly I had lots of time to think. Become aware I had just existed not lived since I was 12 or so. I hard went out, the trash piled up and I spend my time online in a fantasy world.
Given more time ... who knows ...

When my parents came to help me move nothing was packed as agreed. Sadly even then my parents did not hear my silent scream.

So I guess I can imagine a bit how John felt and maybe that is why it had such an impact on me.

To finally see this chapter posted is a double sided thing.
It's like a las recognition of Darla and John. On more monument to remember this lovely person by.

But it also feels so final. From what Sephrena wrote I can not imagine any one would be able to finish the story. There are just too many ways it could go to. The story is also much to personal to be finished be anyone else.

Maybe it is fitting in a way. John was not able to finish his/her life. So Joan's and Sam's lifes will always be open ended as well.
It hurts like hell but I guess this al only makes it more real.

I will never forget this story and I will never forget Darla.
Thank you for sharing so much of you with us. Thank you for making me feel so much. I wish I could have given more back. I wish I could have helped you find yourself and become your true self and start to enjoy life.

My heard felt condolence and tight hugs to you, Linda, and the rest of John's family.

Holly

Friendship is like glass,
once broken it can be mented,
but there will always be a crack.

I Read the Story From Beginning to End

... over a period of days. Darla will be missed for she was one of the better writers in any genre*. although I found some of the twists of the plot a bit unbelievable, sometimes bordering on bizarre, the actual telling was nice and tight -- no extraneous words -- and clear; not too much time spent on description or 'thinking' -- the balance between those things and straight plot line was excellent.

I grieve for Darla also because, as an insulin-dependent diabetic, I know what she must have had to go through to control her disease and yet I can't relate to her inability to do what must be done (take your blood sugar readings and your needles when you need to). To me, it's relatively painless and trouble-free and, yet, given the alternative, what else can you do? [Sigh!]

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

* Maybe it's just me but I find that word cute given the context -- you see, 'genre' means 'gender' in French!

x

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

So very sad, goodbye Darla,

So very sad, goodbye Darla, wish I could have known you. And now I'm just crying uncontrollably.