A Letter that cannot be sent

Dearest Jim;

There are many things that remain unresolved between us, and many things I've wanted to say to you over the years. I want you to know how I feel about you, both the bad and the good and I really want to know how you feel about me after all we have been through together. But the world, and my personality, conspired against it ever happening. Even though you can never see this note now, I still need to write it, to tell you how I feel after all these years.

You and I had an extremely complicated relationship....right from the get-go. Back in 1990 when we first met, I had still never had a relationship, was barely even comfortable around gay people at all, never feeling part of that group. Essentially I was a 29-year-old-virgin-for-life, or so I thought. The only experiences I'd had as a gay man were really to join the band but barely ever speak to anyone, and my brass quintet. The only dates I ever had were complete failures, and I'd given up going out to bars and so forth to meet people because I just was never comfortable there and usually felt worse after than before I went. Although it appalls me to think that I felt this way, I had convinced myself that it was ok to be alone permanently, never to be loved, never to have sex. I guess I probably believed I wasn't worthy, had too many hangups...and it just wasn't meant to be. No person had ever pursued me or told me that I was attractive that way, and I didn't know how to pursue anyone either....so I was alone.

Then you came along and joined the band. I have to admit, my very first impression of you was that 'this older guy is too friendly and I don't trust it.' Even though I was totally inexperienced, I was quickly convinced you were after me for more than friendship. But not long after, I discovered you had been with someone for 10 years (George of course), and we became good friends.

I truly treasure the beginning of our relationship, the 8-9 months before we actually brought it to another level. You and George were so good to me in so many ways. You introduced me to many many things I'd never been exposed to before, both things in the gay community like the Flirtations and Romanovsky & Phillips, and cultural things like concerts, museums, gardens, etc. For the first time you made me feel like I was truly exposed to gay people who were really comfortable in being gay, and especially to a gay relationship. I had no experience with them, even short-term, and I didn't even imagine that life could be so 'normal' with a gay couple.

You also made me truly feel good about myself again, or perhaps for the first time since college and High School. You convinced me that there are people who believe I am good-looking, talented and interesting. Never had my confidence been boosted like that before, and probably never since either.

I have to admit that I was certainly confused during that time. Both of you made me feel so good, yet I saw this long-term relationship and I started having feelings that I thought were just wrong. I found myself falling in love with a couple...with each of you individually, but also with the relationship you had. I must admit I didnt' really see both sides of the true relationship at first....I saw the hand holding, the going home together, the always being together....and I WANTED it for myself too. It was confusing because you also seemed to be more interested in me than just as a friend...which it turns out you were. And when it really did become more...you then convinced me that it was what George wanted too (which wasn't true) and that it could work in the long run (which I still believe is true.)

Almost as soon as it became a relationship, cracks did start to form between us. We started to argue a lot. Those cracks got larger and larger and by the time we decided to buy a house together...were probably already irreparable. It was a mistake for me to do that, and I very nearly did not...but I let it happen. We spent the next 3 years with those cracks getting larger and larger, and me feeling less and less close to you.


That is not to say those years were all bad. Even after cracks formed, there were wonderful things about our relationship and you. I always appreciated the fact that you were such a 'doer' and you dragged George and I along with you always (with no protesting.) You were the one who made us do something virtually every weekend, from going to Falling Water, to Lancaster to the fish Store, to Shepherdstown, to concerts, to exhibits, etc, etc, etc. There was always something and we were always doing it. As long as we could avoid arguing, we were having a great time. I STILL miss that today....I know it was all you because George and I just rarely ever do those types of things. The three of us did weekend trips, day trips, small trips, big trips...we were just constantly doing. George and I just don't, and I wish I could get back into that habit. You taught me how great that could be....and it truly helps make life interesting.


Jim, you made me feel the best AND the worst about myself, but you made me FEEL. I both loved and hated our time together. We argued almost constantly, and I never felt that I won a single argument with you, so it was like beating my head against a rock for 7 years. I know you've never believed this, but I am not by nature an argumentative person. I've never been like that with anyone else in the world....but I never met anyone quite so pig-headed as you about certain things either. There was no convincing you even that I had a valid point most of the time, and you belittled me and told me I had no idea what I was talking about all the time. I'll never forget the argument about how little i know about relationships and how two people that are together should be together 100% of the time, and not have their own interestes, etc. You actually convinced me that I simply had no idea how a relationship should work. In fact you convinced me of a lot of things...mostly of my own failings in life. you shook my confidence in my ability to understand people and relate to them to the core. Eventually I just couldn't live with it anymore. We went through periods that were good, and lots that were unbearable, and it just eventually skewed to the point where I could not live with it on a daily basis. I needed to get my confidence back and needed to get out on my own.


When I decided to leave you, I truly believed I was deciding to leave Jim AND George. When I look back in my journal at the very early years, I told myself that if nothing else, I wanted to ensure that I never damaged what you two had....never came between you. When I told George that I was leaving, i did not ever ask him to come...I told him that I just couldn't live with you anymore and i was leaving. I was shocked when he said he was coming with me. George is the most loyal person i know and the least likely to embrace change. But somehow in those 7 years, George fell in love with me and his love for me trumped his fear of change. I think he was more fearful of losing me than of this huge change. I still don't know what he sees or saw in me, but I know how lucky I am to have him. And I also know how it affected you at first, although as the years went on, it became less and less clear to me.


I think at first you came as close to hating me as it's possible for you to hate someone. Somehow I took the blame for everything that happened. I could see it in your eyes, hear it in your voice. It was many months later before you even spoke to me outside of work. I'm positive that you believed that I convinced George to leave you too...and it's simply not true. For a few years I could tell that you still depended on George...over the years he had become someone who you depended on in many ways to do things for you, and because of the situation we continued to be in for a year after it became official that we were splitting, you could continue to depend on him. You tried not to, but quickly slipped back into the habit. We had that house together and because of your demands to get out of it every penny you put into it, we couldn't afford to take a loss on it, so it sat for a year with all of us still living there, but no longer together. The only one who really lost on it was me...and I lost every penny I put into it. But I did understand and was willing to do that to make it easier on you. It was the price I paid for leaving.

I don't mean to take credit where it's not due, but you need to realize that the reason you were able to continue a relationship with George to the point where you became friends was directly because of me. I knew you wanted nothing to do with me, and I also knew that you needed someone you could depend on. I still loved you in my way and I wanted to help, but I knew you wouldn't accept it from me, so I PUSHED George into it....I made sure he checked in on you, helped you where you needed it etc. Of course it's completely in his nature to be that way anyhow, but he was ready to walk away in those early years after our split...and I wouldn't let him.

It was kind of like the Bruiser/Spike/Skippy situation. The first words out of your mouth after we told you were that you were taking Bruiser. Despite the fact that I never had ANY intention of letting that happen, I knew it wasn't the time to argue, so I continued to take care of him, sure that you'd eventually come around. I never said a word about it and just waited, and you eventually were the one to come to the conclusion that he needed to stay with me, and his brothers.

I guess my point is that once we split, I had to go through a period of active silence....I never wanted to leave your life, and I knew from the situation with Marcia that's exactly what you wanted...me gone so that you could close that chapter of life and move on. but I wasn't willing to do that.

I believe that you eventually came to appreciate the fact that we remained in your life....as the years went by I felt like we became better and better friends. We were always there for you when you truly needed something and you were there for us as well. It became what I felt was a fairly comfortable, mutual friendship. By the time we all lost our jobs, we were already friends again from my perspective. I feel until the day you died, that remained true. What remains unresolved for me about all of it was how YOU felt throughout. I've never been one to force someone to talk....just not good at it unless they really want to. And you and I never truly had another conversation about anything that happened in the past, or even about how our friendship developed after that and if you really felt the same way about me that I did you. You were always an enigma.....and unfortunately, will always remain one.

Dwight indicated to me that you had written some fairly hateful things about me and how I caused all of your problems....and at first that truly disturbed me. But I choose now to believe that those things were early after the split and not recent. Dwight wasn't too good with the facts and timing of other things he told me he discovered about you, like Shasta's recent health and vets visits. And my instincts tell me that you stopped hating me and started appreciating my friendship somewhere along the line. I need to believe that my instincts were right for my own sanity and to move on.

I really struggled with your death....everything about it from discovering you ourselves to planning a memorial to dealing with Dwight and Debbie and George having to tell Dwight in the first place, to Shasta. Which brings me to her. I have to admit that when you got her I thought it was a big mistake...not that you were getting a pet, but that it was a huge dog. I knew physically you'd have a tough time with her and you really did....she was out of control for a few years until she matured. And a cat would've been what you truly needed...or at least a lap dog. I resented Shasta every time she came over because she disrupted cats and dogs in my house and she seemed so wrong for you. How ironic that I ended up with her....it took us awhile to accept each other. I know that she was very good for you in your last few years being your constant companion. When I finally got her out of the shelter after 3 weeks, she and I struggled because she was terrified of me. I'm not sure if it was the trauma she went through, or simply that she couldn't accept my voice of authority without being terrified by it, but she would freak out if I would even tell a cat to get off the counter. Things are slowly but surely getting better with us and I guess I've accepted the fact that she is ours now. I do promise to do the best by her that I possibly can cause I know you loved her.

Jim, I always loved you in my way and I always will. I'll never know how you felt about me and that will always sadden me. But I will hold up my head and believe that i did the best I could to keep us in each other's lives for the short amount of time we had. I will miss you and I will think about you a lot. You had an enormous effect on my life and the person that I am. I hope you are at peace now.

A truly special boy

Growing up I was a dog person. This was because our family always had a family dog, and never had cats after I was about two and the family cat got locked in a room for more than a day with no box…and decided never to use a cat box again since that was so nice and easy. But we always had dogs and the only cats I knew were skittish neighborhood cats that didn’t want to be touched, a Siamese that a friend had which liked nothing better than to attack people, and a wild kitten that ‘followed me home’ (he might’ve been coerced) and lived with us for about a month until we realized he was truly wild and my dad dropped him off at a local farm.

When I became an adult and wanted a pet, I lived in an apartment so I got a cat and had my first extended exposure to my own cat, Shay. Her actual name was Scheherazade (one of my favorite pieces of music), but I called her Shay. Shay laid claim to me on the first morning as I was waking up after I’d gotten her….by peeing on me (right in bed…and I thought OMG, what have I done.) She never did it again and lived to be about 13, the last 6 with my sister. She’d grown up with Genilee’s cat Winston while I lived with my sister and we didn’t want to split them up when we parted, so she got them both.

A Few years later I got my first House with Jim and George, and immediately got my boys….Bruiser Spike and Skippy, the Jack Russell Terriers. They were wonderful, wonderful dogs. When they were 5 years old and George and I were on our own, I decided I wanted to add a cat to the mix. Now JR people will tell you that you don’t mix JRs with cats because their nature is to eat the cat, and they often don’t get along. But I’m stubborn and knew my boys, and really wanted a cat. I started looking into Purebred cat breeds when my sister acquired a stray calico, which turned out to be pregnant. I couldn’t go pay for a kitten and leave those without homes, so I told her I’d take one, and naturally she said, ‘no, you’ll take two….can’t leave a poor kitten alone with those dogs.’. After much arm-twisting (not), I decided to get two.

When the kittens were born, there were two typical Tabbies, two tabbies with some white on them, and two Orange Tabbies. I saw them when they were a few weeks old and eyes were already open, and they were just starting to move about. Genilee brought them all out to me and I was already in love. One of the orange Tabbies immediately came over to look at me and pay attention to me, although the others all ignored me, so I decided on the spot that was one of my kittens. I visited about 4-5 more times to get to know them a bit better and every other time I visited that same Orange tabby ignored me, but the OTHER orange tabby was really friendly and paid attention to me. I resisted getting both of the orange ones for awhile, but I truly fell in love with the second one…but couldn’t go back on my resolve to get the first one who looked at me, so I ended up with both Orange Tabbies.

The day I brought them home to the house was very interesting. Bruiser, Spike and Skippy had no clue what these things I brought home were, and I was sort of afraid of what I’d read, so I refused to let them get closer than 2-3 feet. But they could SMELL them and thought I’d brought home snacks…chaseable furry snacks!! I let each dog get close enough to the kittens to put their nose in it (watching like a hawk), but that just made them even more nervous. So the dogs were quivering and panting for the next several hours, and I put the kittens in another room….dogs wouldn’t leave the door…lol. We decided we’d better sleep in different rooms, so George and I slept apart for a week or so. Several days went by and the dogs remained nervous wrecks…I’d let them get close, but never when I wasn’t’ around, and they never stopped panting and acting nervous. Rachi and Copeland….they were not even slightly intimidated by the dogs, and just were oblivious. They knew perfectly well that everything in the world should adore them. About the 5th day, Spike….who was the MOST nervous and excited, but also by far the smartest….relaxed and decided that he was supposed to accept them as part of the family, and his brothers just went along because they largely followed his lead on most things. Never had any issues after that and the 5 of them always got along. Rachi and Copeland already knew they were part of the family, and they were oblivious to the nervousness, and always liked the dogs, even when the dogs thought they were furry little snacks.

Copeland was the cat who originally came out and sniffed me the first time, but not really again in the following visits. It was really a precursor to his personality because I never saw a more outgoing cat in my life. He LOVED it when anyone he didn’t’ know came into the house and he would be right there to greet them and spend time with them…any stranger would do. He was a wonderful cat who died very abruptly from cancer when he was 10….gave me no warning as I thought he was fine one night, but had to be put down the next as he was too far gone to help. I had no clue. He was very friendly throughout his life and was a special cat.

However, the most special cat I’ve ever known was his brother Rachi (pronounced Rocky, but named for Rachmaninoff.) Like his brother, he showed me aspects of his personality right from the first time I met him….slightly more reserved initially than his brother, but still very outgoing for a cat, and he was MY boy (or perhaps I was his) and never stopped coming to me. We adored each other completely. He didn’t’ come out to greet me the first visit, but every other visit he was the one kitten who always came to me first, wanted to play with me, even sit with me. I was foolish enough to almost not take him simply because he looked like his brother, but that would’ve been an enormous mistake.

People visiting us always commented on how friendly Copeland was, which was true. But Rachi was also very outgoing…he’d be there to greet strangers within a minute or two after Copeland…but he was our cat…it was George and I that he was interested in, not strangers. So he’d greet them and be out and about, but not going to the strangers to be petted (whereas Copeland was rather insistent to any stranger that they will pet him NOW.)

When it came to us, Copeland was very sweet and friendly (and he liked my left shoulder and chest) and would come around on his own terms to be petted…but generally wanted to be on his feet and didn’t’ like being picked up. He only wanted to be on you if he instigated it…like most cats.

Rachi was always there for me, every moment of the day. He was big, 15-16 pounds (Copeland was even bigger at 18), but very much a lap cat and shoulder cat. Almost immediately he established my right shoulder and chest as his place by simply crawling up there the first day and settling in to purr. He spent the next 12 years there and I’d hoped it would be the next 25. And that cat would start to purr every time I came near him throughout his life…..and if I could’ve, I would’ve purred right back. It’s an incredibly special feeling when connecting physically and emotionally with your animal. Rachi always knew when I needed him, and never ever refused me. I could pick him up anytime I wanted and he’d settle in. And if I waited too long, he’d just come around and insist….and trust me he was persistant. Even when I’d play on the computer and not be paying attention or even be looking at him, he’d simply come sit in front of the monitor facing me, often with butt on the keyboard….he was so big that I’d have to look around him to keep playing. If I still didn’t stop and start loving on him, he’d sit there, put his paws on my stomach and make love paws on my stomach…purring the whole time, then eventually just crawl up onto my shoulder anyhow. Wasn’t much I could do and I did NOT need to be playing that damn game when he wanted attention!

When it was ME that wanted attention, I could always find Rachi, usually lounging on the bed, and go hug him…and I mean literally hug him and encircle him with my arms and even squeeze a bit. I could bury my face in him anywhere. Most cats would freak out or at least leave when you do that and they weren’t asking for it…Rachi would purr and nuzzle me back. And oh what a nuzzler he was. I think he liked my chest/shoulder so much partially because it put our heads closer together and one or the other of us would start rubbing our face on the other. When Rachi and I loved on each other, we used our entire beings.

Rachi kept his claws and I cut them periodically. He was great about it except for one particular Claw…I could do the other 19 and he’d be fine, but he’d start to fight me as soon as I tried that one….it was a challenge….and he’d get MAD….right until I let him go, and I could immediately go bury my face in him again. He never held a grudge, no matter what I did to him. He loved me unconditionally, and I loved him just the same.

I don’t want to take away from George’s relationship with Rachi either. George had never had a cat before Rachi and Copeland (and never had a pet before the dogs), so he didn’t know what to expect. He loved Rachi (and Copeland) just like I did and they had a special relationship. What a great way to learn to love cats. In fact, one of the most telling aspects of Rachi’s personality is the effect he had on Jim Brooks. Jim was a true cat HATER before Rachi and Copeland. He used to joke about killing a cat whenever he saw one all the time, and pretended to swerve to hit them in the car. He thought they were just awful, pure hair and filthy and nasty. When you never have a cat, I can see how it’s easy to get the impression that they are unfriendly, because most ARE unfriendly to strangers at best. But Jim often babysat for the dogs for us, which meant spending time in our house with our cats. Rachi and Copeland turned him around completely to not only stop hating all cats, but to start to see how special they can be. Someday I will get Jim to have a cat now…I’m convinced of that. And it’s totally because of Rachi and his brother. He insisted on being Jim’s lap cat too when I wasn’t around.

When Copeland died, Rachi was sort of lost for awhile….he’d always had his brother and the two of them were very interactive with each other just like with us. Rachi I swear just didn’t’ seem himself in the weeks after Copeland passed. So me being me, I decided I needed a companion for Rachi (which turned out to be two kittens…again brothers.) So about two months after Copeland died, I brought home Bert and Sully (Gilbert and Sullivan), two Tonkinese kittens. I’d taken what I’d read about various cat breeds back before I got Rachi, and picked out a breed who’s personality seemed like it would mesh with Rachi…outgoing, playful and friendly and affectionate. For the first week, Rachi had the normal cat reaction…hiss whenever they come around and generally act pissed off because they’d invaded his house. But like Spike, Rachi was smart, and overnight accepted them as his baby brothers. From that moment, he perked back up and was himself again..a happy, contented Boo. And I mean Rachi treated them like he was truly their big brother….loved them, loved on them, beat them up regularly. Sully especially treated Rachi like a brother….Sully would come love on me and every time he’d leave my lap, he’d run over to Rachi and rub up on him for awhile. Rachi, being 11 at the time, was a little old for actual play, but he’d tolerate that too and be ready for love when it was over. If they bugged him too much, he’d fight back or move away…and two seconds later be their best friend again. He was the most sociable animal I know.

I had a million names for him and rarely called him Rachi…he was Rachiboo, kittyboo, bookitty, boo, bigboy. He became Bigboo when I got the kittens (Sully was Littleboo and Bert is Tinyboo.) But the best name for him was Perfectboo. Rachi was everything I ever wanted in a cat…he was my Bruiser in the cat world.

Last Thursday when I got home from work, Rachi was totally himself, sweet, loving, outgoing, normal. However, I’d been noticing for awhile that he seemed a bit thin….I could feel his spine. I guess I was avoiding it, but it hit me that night and I decided to weigh him. If my scale was right, he was down to under 13 pounds…and had been over 15 at his last checkup. I was immediately concerned and knew I needed to get him into the vet right away. I decided to make an appt the next day, but I got really freaked overnight and just put him in the car and showed up there Friday morning when they opened. Before I took him, I cut his nails, and when he was on his back in my arms, he started to breathe strange….the FIRST indication besides weight loss that there was anything wrong. I told the vet all about him and left him Friday morning for a battery of tests. By Friday night, Rachi was gone from me forever. He had a massive tumor in his lungs and they were filling up with fluid (thus the hard breathing) and had already lost over 3 pounds. I had to make an instant decision…I could try to have fluid removed and bring him home for a day or two, but there was no hope and his lungs would just fill again. There was no decision to make….Rachi was not going to suffer, but it was still agonizing to make it.

It killed me, but I had to say goodbye to the perfect cat, who only the day before had shown me no signs that there was anything wrong.

I feel lost without Rachi. I’m in shock. I feel cheated out of my years with him that I should’ve had. Skippy was diagnosed with cancer 6 months ago and we were told he’d only last a week or two. So every day for the last 6 months has been a death watch, where I go to him and check to see if he’s breathing. Skippy is still with me and I still can’t believe that Rachi is gone and went before him. I know you can never count on these things, but since I’d lost all three dogs to cancer, and Copeland to cancer, I thought surely this would be something else, Diabetes (simple shots for life) or something like that…how could it be cancer AGAIN?! How could it possibly happen so quickly when he’d seemed so perfectly fine the night before? How could it happen almost exactly like it happened with his brother? Where is the fairness in life? How can my Rachi be gone??!! When I lost Copeland at only 10, despite him being a great cat, I breathed a huge sigh of relief and counted my lucky stars because it wasn’t Rachi. I convinced myself that he would live into his 20s (have good friends who just put their cat down at 21, and two years ago put their other cat down after 21 years too.)

I was foolish, and I am shocked…and I feel cheated. But mostly I am just sad to my bone that he’s gone and I’ll never see him again, never bury my face in his fur and never hear that purr. It wasn’t loud, but it was the essence of Rachi.

Only 6 years ago, I had 5 fabulous animals, Bruiser, Spike, Skippy, Copeland and Rachi. They were all boys and the dogs were always ‘the boys’…until Rachi and Copeland wormed their way into our hearts too. Collectively they were all ‘the boys’….and now all my boys are gone….and all to cancer….all different types too. With the exception of Skippy (still technically with me)…none of them lived as long as they should’ve.

I have two new boys in my life….Bert and Sully….and I love them too, but they will never be ‘the boys’.

I miss you baby.

Dining Room Improvement.....

Boy Jackie, when you're right, you're right.....what a difference a simple tablecloth can make

here's the corner for the wine bar

Consoles

New Living Room, Dining Room & Kitchen

New Powder room...last year

New Master Bathroom

Black Day

Another one of these days I've been having a lot of in the last year...in fact this is actually the 2nd day of it. I just feel so totally like I don't want to deal with the world today, or yesterday. I don't want to speak to anyone, see anyone or have any human contact at all. Actually, if it's like yesterday, basically ANY contact. Even the animals were being pushed away yesterday at times...don't feel like dealing with them either.

Yesterday I woke up after more sleep than I'd had in at least a week, but feeling like I needed to immediately take a nap....I was dragging like crazy and felt extremely tired. It was 2 hours before I started to feel awake, and less than another hour after that when I started feeling really depressed and unhappy. I tried to do a few useful things, grocery shopping, doing bills....intended on doing some cleaning. But when I"m in this mood, I also don't feel like doing anything and nothing seems to satisfy. I played my normal games, but wasn't into any of it. I saw and watched two lousy football games and both of my teams looked like crap (I'm over football for the year and it's only the 2nd week.) Thought about reading, thought about working on the basement clutter, thought about going for a bike ride or going to the gym. But I felt no desire for any of it and felt very much stuck. The longer the day went, the worse I felt mentally. George tried to make a comment here or there, but I was non-communicative to say the least, and probably verging on rude. I forced myself to perk up enough to watch some TV, went to bed fairly late, and woke up feeling the same today.

I don't know what is wrong with me, but I hate me when I'm like this. I have nothing positive to say about anything and my face feels like it's glued in a frown. I don't want to go to band when I'm like this, but I don't have much choice either. I'm just glad the rehearsal will be short since I'm not doing Wind Ensemble or Marching Band.

I'm concerned that too much of my life is spent like this recently. We went through a really bad patch of time since George's Dad died, but I felt like since he started getting some help, that my problems also were getting better. But here I am feeling like this again. I was like this the last two Monday's too...no doubt started off those times because of weekend weight gain, but why that should set me off this extremely I don't know.

I should probably go see someone....except I wouldn't even know what to say or what to talk about. There's nothing particularly wrong today...just the way I feel right now.