When my sister in law Nicole called a couple of months ago, inviting us to share Christmas with them in their new home in Salinas (in Northern California, just outside Monterrey,) I agreed. I wasn’t sure I’d be up for it when it came, but I believe in putting special events and trips on the calendar ahead of time, regardless of the feelings of the current moment. I was warned over and over again that Christmastime and festive gatherings can be especially difficult in the first years after a death in the family. True, I had to leave (and decline) some holiday celebrations because I was feeling angry/jealous/sad/sorry for myself. The holidays are full of triggers, it’s common knowledge. That said, it was a wonderful trip from the first day to the last (we just got home tonight.) Even the 8 hour drive was enjoyable (though I am ready for a break from Pink Floyd on repeat and Maki’s guitar-in-my-ear as he fulfilled his role as DJ and co-pilot.)
Here is our family: Anne and Hyatt 3. Nicole and Hyatt 4 with Kaiya, Hyatt 5, Evera, and Lucas. Me, Justine, and Maki.
They live in such a beautiful area. If I lived there, I’d walk these hills every day. I can see why Steinbeck was inspired.
It worked out to meet another sister, Cambria’s family. She works in the Bay Area so had her husband and boys from Seattle in town. We met that part of the family in San Jose for a movie and museum. Christmas day was perfect. Relaxed and full of love. The children were so fun to be around (especially for Justine.)Though Christmas with the family in Hyatt and Nicole’s new home just outside Monterrey was a fresh experience, the weekend brought some circles to fullness.
Years ago, before Vernon and I were married, he flew out to LA and we took a road trip up the gorgeous coast of California to Monterrey, where my brother and his wife lived at the time. I think I was hoping he would propose to me at any number of idyllic vistas along the way (I certainly gave him opportunity, clueless love that he was.) Anyway, I specifically remember on our way back from their home, we stopped at a gas station and looked at the back seat of my car, strewn with road trip what-not, and envisioned children in those seats one day. It was just a moment, but the memory was profound enough to return to me a couple times this very year: one day we’ll be making this kind of trip with our own family in a car messy with not just our own stuff, but that of our children as well.
Though my parents came on the trip too, they took their own car. Though we are close, we are highly independent characters. We like our freedom. So we took two cars and caravanned (yes, we have massive traveller’s footprints.) Maki had brought his guitar and played that as well as his playlist from the passenger seat. Teenagers have an incredible ability to play the same songs over and over again without tiring. For parents, its an endurance sport. He did learn SEVEN songs on his guitar over the weekend though. I have to say it was impressive. I can also say I’ve had enough of Pink Floyd/Oasis/David Bowie/Smashing Pumpkins for a few days. He serenaded all of us over the weekend with his playing. The truth is, it kept this kid busy and I LOVED IT! Here is a sample:
Another cool circular occasion happened when we took up my friend Lucy’s partner’s offer to play music with Maki sometime. I’ve known Lucy for 30 years, and we have stayed in touched as well as visited one another over the years in our various cities of residence. I met her, in fact, when I was a mere 15 years old, new at my high school in a new town (let alone country.) I liked her because she had a disarming smile AND wore head to toe black. We were both obsessed with the same British band, The Smiths. It wasn’t lost on me that Maki was playing their music in the car on the way over, trying to learn the guitar parts. (Here are Lucy and I, 30 years later: this week.)
And 15 year old Maki got to hang out with Jason, a sound engineer. Maki had been looking forward to it, so it was worth driving the two hours up to the East Bay and back again later. He said he learned a lot in Jason’s studio and hoped to stay in touch. He said it was a really great day, and he didn’t mind the drive at all.
Lucy and I spoke about the concept of “Inspiration” and how important that word was to each of us. I’ve decided to focus on that more over the next month. We’re coming to the end of a very odd year. Lots of death. Lots of change. I’m looking forward to focusing on the positive in the future! Happy Holidays and Happy End-of-Year to all.
“I believe a strong woman may be stronger than a man, particularly if she happens to have love in her heart. I guess a loving woman is indestructible.”
― John Steinbeck, East of Eden
Taken in the Crypt of Winchester Cathedral, November 2016
Here are a few things I read about Anger in Grief this week. I found them very helpful indeed. These quotations are pulled from this website.
Anger surfaces once you are feeling safe enough to know you will probably survive whatever comes. At first, the fact you lived through the loss is probably surprising to you. Then more feelings hit, and anger is usually at the front of the line as feelings of sadness, panic, hurt and loneliness also appear.— David Kessler
When we are grieving, anger in another indicator of how much we love the person who has died. Anger is a normal part of grief, a bridge of strength and energy (at a time when there is little of either) across the abyss of loss.
Anger tells us that we are alive and we loved someone very much. We are angry because now that person is dead. Anger is progress because it means we are now feeling the e motions of grief a needed in order to heal. The more we honor our loss by allowing ourselves to feel anger, the more healing we will do.
Anger is not a problem. But misdirected anger is. Anger turned inward. Angry energy will not go away. It must be released. The more you can understand your anger—how you react when you are mad—the more you can make changes that allow for your healing.
Never forget that you are angry because you deeply loved and now the one you loved is gone. You may be shocked when the intensity of your anger is in direct proportion to the intensity of your love for the one who has died. Explore your anger because the more you allow the feelings to surface the more of yourself you will find. Mostly, it will be the pain of loss and your grief will change form again, not in circles going nowhere round and round, but in upward spirals of healing.
“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”—Martin Luther King Jr.
Though I have certainly experienced variations of anger over the journey with Vernon, I had no idea how much anger was ready to come out till last week. It was the the last straw of injustice that finally pushed me over the edge. I had just come back from that restorative trip to England, I had just seen his family and had given them their son and brother’s ashes. I had finally been far enough way from American election news so that I could think straight. Beyond that, I was no longer trying to keep Vernon alive. I had space in my heart again…the perfect setting for another stage of grief to set up camp. Make yourself at home, Anger.
There was an email with attachments from my attorney waiting for me when I got home. Then after a couple days, phone-calls: “Have you looked at the statement yet? All you need to do is sign and we can close this case finally.” By signing, he meant “dropping the lawsuit” against Mr. Travis Phillips, the man who caused the accident which killed Vernon. We’ve known for ages that there would be no compensation from Mr. Phillips and his wife Laura, who happen to live in Talega, a well-to-do suburb of our town, San Clemente.
Mr. and Mrs. Phillips never once reached out to us, through lawyers or otherwise, to take any responsibility for Vernon’s injury and eventual death. It took me ten months to get the police report with their names on it, but I had known about them from the beginning because I knew their nanny’s friend. Yes, their nanny. It took another ten months after that to hear anything from Mr. Phillips (it was a complicated case and these things take time, I was told.) Actually, there was some relief in that because I didn’t have to worry about my feelings toward the other family while caring for Vernon. I just assumed the attorney would take care of it and some sort of justice would emerge. Maki and I sent our letters, not asking for money…but an apology. The attorney sent a lawsuit to Mr. Phillips, ensuring that we would hear something back from him within 30 days. On the 30th day, I was told he had JUST contacted his insurance lawyers (State Farm) so they were asking for an extension. We had already been told how in the early days, Mr. Phillips had avoided the calls by his insurance company so this seemed consistent with his character.
I was in no rush though— this has been dragging on since June, 2014. Once lawyers fees and medical liens are extracted, there will be less than $7,000 dollars of insurance coverage to compensate for Vernon’s injury and wrongful death. At this point, that’s an insulting amount of blood money and I don’t even want to touch it. Had it been a million, I might feel differently. But I’d agreed there was nothing else I could do (though believe me, I’d explored every option save going up to their house and demanding that they look at us in the eye.)
Back to the email now: along with the paperwork for me to sign, there was a list of Mr. Phillips assets, signed under penalty of perjury, outlining the basics of his income among other things. Basically as sheet of paper saying he had nothing. I knew they didn’t own a home or have andy investments, but what threw me is that he had no bank account. What father and husband, working a full time job and paying over a third of his income to a nanny, doesn’t have a bank account? According to another statement, he and his wife were separated and living in different homes. I called my friend (the one who knows the nanny) who assured me they were still living together. Why would someone lie about their marriage?
When this couple hit Vernon, it was an accident. I’m sure there was no ill-intent by the driver. When the Phillips refused to contact us, when they hid below the radar and avoided responsibility, I was offended by their lack of conscience, compassion. When they received letters from Maki and I, pleading our case and asking for some accountability, we still heard nothing. These people live in the same town, but they seem to be ghosts. The main event of that fateful night is in their memory, but I’ll never get to hear. It’s as if without them, it never really happened. Just like Vernon couldn’t remember his own accident and heal…we don’t get to remember it for our own closure.
But suddenly I was indignant, this man had gone out of his way to hide his accounts and also lied about being separated from his wife. Injustice is bad enough, but lying under oath? It was the final insult to major injury that I could take. I felt myself toppling over the edge and since then have been figuring out how to live with a fierce anger every single day. (I hope to write about this more in another entry.)
I have been out of commission for the last couple of weeks. Actually that is not entirely true. I’ve chosen not to write for the blog…or check in much online. It was as off the grid as possible for someone like me, just being in another country and therefore with interment wifi. I needed the break on so many levels, but now I find myself wondering how to write about it.
My close friend Julia had been offering to fly me out to visit her in England for some time, and suddenly there was a gap in my schedule and tickets prices were seasonally low. So…shortly after our fundraiser, I flew out of the country for ten days. It was the first time I’d returned to England in four years. As well as road-tripping with my friend, I was able to finally take care of some necessary banking and bring some ashes to Vernon’s family. I was able to return to the old neighborhood, even the old house, and meet up with some dear friends there. And it didn’t even rain once!
I kept my hands busy with a little sketchbook I’d brought. The last time I’d filled out one of these was on our honeymoon in Venice ten years before. So it seemed right to fill up another one now.
And here is a picture of Vernon’s family and I at Winchester Cathedral. So glad they could all make it out.
I just got off an hour long conversation with someone at Social Security. I need to collect some more information from England before I can apply for any survivor benefit, it seems. So that is still in the air. But it was the first time I pulled Vernon’s death certificate out of its envelope and actually looked at it. So strange to mix that in with the important paperwork like birth and marriage certificates. I’ll live with it all in one place in the house now, the main records of his life.
But on a nicer note, I would like to share a special gift I received in the mail this week. I opened up a large tube covered with stamps and found this
It’s a giant photocopy of a pigeon from an adult coloring book that my childhood dentist’s wife sent me. She also sent along a pack of colored pencils, thinking we could all have a go at coloring in this delightful bird. Long live pigeons! Thank you, Mrs. Lee. I love it.
Speaking of art, the craft fair starts tonight. Here are a few more things you can expect to find there:
Sansoxygen Coffee! Hand-roasted right here in town. I can’t wait to try some of this.
Remember, tonight at the San Clemente Art Supply (Friday) will be 6-9 and tomorrow (Saturday) at 10-5. 1531 N. El Camino Real, San Clemente, CA 92672
A special cover of Vernon's fav song 'Waterloo Sunset' by friend and singer/song-writer Ian McGlynn. All proceeds support Vernon's recovery! Donate what you can and download a beautiful song in return.
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