From Despair to Love

I was walking by the park when I stopped and sighed. After many months of ever-flowing tears, wails of grief and anger beyond belief I was able to remember the good times we had there and not cry. Even the worst grief can be overcome in time. Grief does fade though it's difficult to almost impossible to believe while you're in the middle of it. Norma, my grief counselor had walked me through it step by step. How she did it is beyond my understanding. Being subjected to that maelstrom of emotion and anger over and over as she counsels her clients would seem overwhelming to me. Her phrase was you learn to accept the unacceptable. I sat weekly in a widows and widowers group and hearing those stories was like a wave that passed over me. That wave of emotion, grief and anger seems at times that it will explode our room, bursting the walls through sheer force of will. Andrea and I were the youngest. We bonded in time over exchanges as we sat at a table with our drinks in front of us untouched. We reached out to each other and were rewarded with friendship and understanding.

What was the next step? My daughter was gone, the victim of being hit by a car after she ran after a ball. My husband was gone, unable to process his own grief as well as dealing with mine. A settlement with the school district after they admitted guilt in her death sustained me. But I couldn't sit and dwell on all of it anymore. I started to help at the local food bank. They were grateful for the extra help as they dealt with the increase in need, now a river of people who needed food. Their eyes all seemed the same, a mixture of dread and lack of hope. They weren't just the poor though there were plenty of those. Now there were well dressed men and women grateful for the boxes of food we disbursed. But their eyes were the same. Their fall had been greater and many also seemed in shock from it. The director, Devon, was a ball of fire. He chided companies to help, sat on the phone coordinating deliveries and inspired all of us in our work.

One day he came up to me and said, "Kasey, thanks for your help. As you can see, we are stretched very thin. Finding enough help seems to be a full time job in itself. Rather than packing boxes would you consider working in the office helping to gather volunteers and donations?"

I was flattered, stunned even. Packing boxes was mindless and I could turn off my mind and just do the work. I realized after a long silence I needed to say something, "thank you for thinking of me for such a position. Let me think about it. To be brutally honest doing this lets me turn off my mind from what consumes me."

"I'm sorry you carry so much sorrow. It's a painful process. I know because I lost a son. He was fifteen and learning to drive when a man ran a red light and crashed into the driver training vehicle. It's what motivates me in this work. It's in his honor I do this every day. It never gets easier but you learn to live with it."

I listened to his story and was touched by it. I changed my mind. "I'd be happy to take the position. My work here is in memory of my daughter who died at four, the victim of being hit by a car. It was a senseless accident, she ran in front of a car chasing a ball. How do I begin? It all seems a bit overwhelming."

"Just do what you can do. That's all you have to do. I need organizational help, we're getting too big for me to do it all. I can't turn them away. I just need more and more help, money and donations. Can you start tomorrow? Just find me and I'll direct you."

The next day I found Devon in his office, on the phone and typing on his computer keyboard at the same time. I stood in the entryway until he finished his call. "Can you organize things? Too much of what we do is in my head and phone. We need to have the security against something happening to me. We need a list of vendors and their contact name and phone numbers. We need a list of donors of time, the churches and organizations that support us with the same contact names and numbers. Addresses would also be nice if we need to speak to them in person. We need a list of cash donors with the same info. We need, we need, we need. But that's a start." He pointed me to a battered laptop sitting on an otherwise empty desk. I spent two hours finding a pad of paper, pens, pencils, an eraser, other office supplies and a whiteboard

"What's the whiteboard for?"

I said, "to record the next list of need and anything else that comes up. We need to do a data dump of your mind."

He laughed at that and said, "enough of this for a moment, let's grab a up of coffee or tea as you prefer. Then we can actually talk like normal people." I found the equally battered Keurig coffee maker, selected a pod and brewed a cup. The note attached to it said to select the smallest cup because it delivers random full cups at that level and overflows cups on the higher settings. Devon stood next to me and waited his turn. Armed with cups of coffee we went back to his office and began talking.

"Let's put this down for a little while and talk about ourselves. Tell me about you," Devon asked.

"My current life began about eighteen months ago when my daughter died. My husband couldn't deal with everything and divorced me. My ex is supporting me. Otherwise I'm living off a settlement from the school district for negligence. The playing fields are surrounded by a four foot fence. The gates are supposed to be closed and locked. On that morning one was unlocked and open. She chased a ball through the opening and between two cars into the street. She died instantly. Months and months of grief counseling got me to where I can function. I needed something to do so here I am."

"We can pay you for this work. You won't get rich but it might help you live."

"Thank you for that. I'll take whatever you can offer," I replied.

"What was your life before that," Devon asked.

"I was a happily married stay-at-home mother planning on having a second child. We lived in a fairly small house and were thinking we would need a larger place when we had two children. Life seemed very normal. We were loving and caring though stretched thin by parenting. He was a good husband and good provider. And then it all ended."

"I am so profoundly sorry to hear your story," Devon said.

"What about you?"

"My son died five years ago. Like you, I fought through all the emotions that come from that. My wife and I had been divorced for a little over a year and we were sharing custody. That week he was with me. That morning I gave him a hug and told him I loved him. That was the last time I saw him alive. I still have nightmares from identifying him at the morgue. About three years ago I was doing what you were doing, putting together boxes of food for people. The guy who ran the organization had a heart attack and died. I picked up the pieces and just threw myself into running it. I was relentless in asking for food, donors and help. The need just continued to grow. We're more than triple the size we were when I started. And it's still not enough. I'm approaching burnout unless I let some things go. I saw you and saw someone who could help. Here we are."

"A depressing story with a happy ending. You came out of it with a major accomplishment."

"One held together with tape and baling wire. I'm chasing my tail all the time, moving from one mode to another depending on that day's disaster."

We went back to work and the day flew by. The doors closed for the day still with people in line. We needed time to restock before the next day's handouts. At closing time Devon stood by the door and thanked every person as they left, hugging many, especially the women. I was last in line and I hugged him.

He said, "would you go to dinner with me? I eat alone far too often."

"Okay, something casual, please," I replied.

We went to a modest Mexican restaurant. Devon introduced me to Enrique, telling me he knew him from before his loss.

"I was a banker and this man comes in and wants a small loan for a restaurant. It was far outside of the kinds of loans we did but I talked to him at length and found him a good soul in need so I talked with some friends of mine and we came together to loan him the money. He bought this place, cleaned it up and has made every loan payment on time. He tells me he employs twenty five or so. The ones who are here illegally and who just arrived either wash dishes or bus tables where English is not needed. When they learn English they can become cooks or servers."

We ate a feast and drank cold Mexican beer. Enrique entertained me when he could with stories of meeting Devon, buying his restaurant and managing it for the last six years. I had a lovely time and told that to both of them. Devon drove me back to my car.

I said, "that's the most fun I've had in years. Thank you for that. Goodnight."

Devon replied, "same here. It's been a long time since I've had such a fulfilling day. You were a big part of that. See you Monday."

In the weeks that followed I was able to write down so much of what was in Devon's head. It was remarkable what he dealt with. I was drafted to call produce vendors asking for increased donations, then did the same with bakeries, followed by calls to grocers. I learned the breadth of what was donated and needed. The quantities were amazing when you're dealing with tons of produce or hundreds of loaves of bread that was too old to sell. The whiteboard was filled with ideas and needs. I was fully engaged to be sure. I was loving it. It taxed my mind and my belief in myself. Putting yourself out there day after day, being told no time after time followed by a meaningful yes is cause for joyous celebration. I brought in a small bell with a handle and rang it when something went well. Through it all I watched Devon do even more, wrangling cash donations and talking to churches and organizations for donations of time. We were more able to quantify what we did: the number of individual donations per day and week, the quantity of donations, the number of donors who participated. We had a web developer help us build a website and we posted our accomplishments weekly along with what we're in need of. I was working far more than forty hours per week as I was on the phone for one reason or another much of the day. Doing the organization was done after hours. Through it all, Devon was there as long or longer. Nightly he would walk me to my car and thank me for all that I did. It was fulfilling. Once a week or more he would ask me to dinner in one little place or another. I ate Thai, Haitian, Korean, Polish, Japanese and Chinese among others.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked me as we finished yet another dinner.

"They're not worth a penny. My stomach is full of food and drink and I'm as mellow as I can remember being in a long while."

"So you'll let me take you to dinner on Saturday, right?"

I looked up at him in surprise. Dinner on a non-work night was a big change in our rhythm. "I'd like that."

"Good. Dress up a little bit. I'll take you somewhere a little bit better this time."

"Better how? I've had some of the best meals I've ever had since I started to work here. So much of what we ate before was chain restaurant stuff. These little hole-in-the-wall places have been fun and such a variety of food. I've also been entertained by your commentary on a lot of them, that you know the owner or the manager and you've eaten at all of them before. It's been fun. I don't know how you top that."

Well, he did top that, taking me to an Asian-fusion restaurant where everything I ate was to die for. It was a step up with white tablecloths and a more polished decor.

"I like it, it's nice but I like the humble ones just as much. I've had such fun doing this with you."

He walked me to the door and hugged me. I clung to him, suddenly filled with such emotion. I turned and kissed him. There was surprise on his face.

"I wasn't expecting that."

"Neither was I. I just had this flood of emotion."

"Still feel it?"

"Yes" and I kissed him again. This time he kissed me back. It felt so wonderful to feel his lips on mine. Peter had been a hard kisser, his thin lips pushed hard against mine. Devon kissed more gently, his lips softly grazing mine as he kissed small kisses across my lips. I found myself chasing him when he pulled away, then I felt foolish.

He gazed at me with wonder. "I never thought we would do this. From the first day you were just unobtainable. I resigned myself to watching from afar. It's nice to think the distances may be less in the future. Now before I make a fool of myself I'll say goodnight. I had fun. I'd like to do it again."

With that he turned and walked away to his car. I went indoors and prepared for bed. As I undressed I realized I was wet with arousal for the first time in over two years. I had liked it. I wanted more.

We danced around the issue at work. The work was too consuming to leave much time or energy for the subject. Our dinners became more intimate, though. He would take me out one night a week after work and Saturday night became a usual thing. We never went to the same place twice. Did this man eat out every night? How can one person know so many restaurants? Just to mix things up he invited me to a picnic Saturday afternoon. We ate by the water, then walked along the shore. It was delightful, something different. I wore shorts for the first time in two years. I had given away most of them, thinking I would never wear them again. It was warm and sunny. I hid my eyes behind my sunglasses. We talked and I just kept watching him. He had touched me in ways I hadn't felt in a long time. Having a child had erased all of our intimate time, our moments to be spontaneous, my sexual drive. There was no time or energy. Then Maren died and there was only pain. Two years later there was a scintilla of more. More emotion, feelings, sexual thoughts, flights of fancy. The extra money helped as I reduced my monthly withdrawal from my settlement. There was less financial pressure. I had sold the house as there were too many memories. My new place was older but had character. I was slowly decorating it as I repaired and updated it room by room. The second bedroom was a mess at the moment as it got the walls patched, washed and painted, then the new floor would be installed. Peter and I had good friends and some of them persevered through the madness and helped out. Jonathan and Sharon were coming the following Saturday to paint the ceiling. That would brighten up the room a lot.

Saturday's meal was Caribbean and as always it was delightful. This too was a small, intimate restaurant. I kiddingly asked, "is there a web site somewhere which lists all of these places? How far down the list are we?

"I've eaten out far too often in the last five years. In the beginning I was just looking for sustenance but in time I began looking for better food. I ate a lot of sandwiches at home but would treat myself once a week or so and kept a list of the good ones. We're moving down that list. We're about two years behind at the moment."

At the door we hugged and kissed some more. It was getting more comfortable in time. We had even exchanged tongues a couple of times. I was also getting used to finding myself aroused when I undressed. We were progressing, albeit slowly. Work was still work, though I got nice hugs at the end of each workday. I was always last to leave.

I reconnected with Andrea with whom I had lost contact after I began working.

"Where did you go? We were in group together and spending time afterwards and then you were just gone. I've called or texted a few times but I received no reply."

"My apologies. I started working at the food bank and suddenly was working fifty plus hours a week. It's been all-consuming. I've been thrust into calling vendors, donors and others asking for more and more while trying to organize the place. If Devon was incapacitated we'd be in a world of hurt. It's all in his head. The level of need is just a river. I had no idea of the quantities involved. We've got two trucks that go to pick up donations and we need more. Ditto with the one forklift we have. Want to learn how to drive a forklift? We're short operators of those too. I went from absently packing food boxes to working in the office. The head of it is amazing, just this ball of energy. He is certainly inspiring."

"Got time for an old friend? How about dinner sometime?"

"I'd love that. I've monopolized this conversation, how are you?"

"My counselor says there is a new diagnosis for what we went through. It's called Prolonged Grief Disorder. PGD. It's in the new psych manual as a new diagnosis. There's even a new drug for it. I'm probably a few months behind you. There are still overwhelming days and nights. I lay awake at nights just remembering."

"My counselor called it accepting the unacceptable. The more I thought about it the more sense it made for me. You take small baby steps, then slightly bigger ones, then even bigger ones after that. I was still having nights remembering. I took this volunteer position to fill part of the hours. Now it fills all the hours! I get paid some for my work and it helps with the expenses. Do you want to do a weekday night or a Saturday?"

"How about Thursday night? Got a place in mind?"

"Devon has been taking me to all these small, out of the way places and they're all good. Let's meet at the center and I'll drive us to one of them. Is Mexican okay?"

"I'll see you at the center Thursday night. About six or so?"

We went to Enrique's where he came and hugged me, telling me it was so good to see me again. Andrea just watched and smiled.

"I've been here one time. How does he remember me? Oh, never mind. I was here with Devon and he arranged a loan for Enrique to open his restaurant. He remembers the association, Devon is a former banker, an executive. It seems to have been good training for what he does now."

"So tell me about this Devon."

I told her of his story, about losing his son, doing the same job as me then assuming leadership when the founder died. "He's this amazing source of energy who keeps everybody focused on helping others. All he asks is to do what you can do. I feel very fulfilled if more than a little overwhelmed by it all. Want a job? We've got plenty of openings from truck driver to box packer to holding hands with people and telling them it will get better."

"Wow. No wonder you disappeared. Do you guys go out to dinner often?"

"Maybe once a week. This is the first place he took me. Lately he's also taking me to dinner on Saturday night."

"How romantic has this become?"

"We hug and kiss. So far that's all. I do have to say I find myself aroused after we part. I had to buy new batteries for my vibrator, the old ones had expired since I last used it."

"Oh, that's funny. How long does this dance go on?"

"I don't know. He's leaving it up to me. He told me he had found me unobtainable when I first started helping. He said he had been resigned to it never going anywhere. Now it's up to me to make the next move. It feels like a very big step. Maybe it's just the next baby step but it feels much larger. What do you think?"

"Put it in the baby step category and open yourself to him. You can make this into a giant thing and never go there. No offense, but it's just sex. Maybe sex with someone interesting but a baby step in your relationship."

"That's good advice. Thank you. Anyone in your life?"

"I've dated a guy a couple of times. He's nice, I like him. I sucked his cock but that's all we've done. He's asked me out Saturday and I may go all the way. We'll see."

We ate a feast as I had the first time with Devon. Enrique never even gave us menus and just asked for ten dollars as payment. "It will go to the kitchen staff. Otherwise it was on me. Come back soon."