The Meeting (part 4)

It’s so hard to put into words what’s happening inside your head at a turning point in life. And I know this is not going to make me look great, but at the time, the day after I met him, I wanted N to call me. I wanted him to ask me to meet for lunch, and dinner and drinks, and dancing…I really just wanted to relive the night we met over and over again. But R was coming home in two days. We had talked this morning about needing to have a conversation about where we go from here and if there was a future for us. But I already knew the answer. I wasn’t willing to compromise my sanity, peace of mind and happiness for what we had. I couldn’t take the lies anymore, I couldn’t take him always putting himself first, and I really couldn’t take the lifestyle. R never really wanted to settle down and get married, that was all me. I realize that, on some level, he must have felt like it could work out. But it wasn’t real enough. And it was hitting me like a ton of bricks as I leaned over the sink and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror that morning. I was shaking. My entire identity was tied to this relationship. Honestly, if I wasn’t R’s girlfriend, who was I? Here in Portland it would be easier for me to adjust to the break up. But at home, it was going to be a gossip fest and division of friends. I couldn’t go back there.

The phone rang. It was N. He wanted to know if I wanted to go “out on a speed boat” with him and a few friends. Of course I wanted to hang out but a freaking speed boat? On the river?? I wanted to think about it and then again I just immediately wanted to say yes, but they were leaving in a hour and I was warned not to be late. So I did what any excited, high maintenance girl would do, and instead of getting ready, I ran (really) up the street to 23rd for a new outfit.

I made it home just in time to put on mascara and lipstick. Phew. They didn’t leave without me. That would have been so embarrassing.

We arrived at OMSI, bought tickets for the boat, and headed to the Willamette River. And I was pleasantly surprised! It was really cool! The boat was a big kind of jet boat, with rows of seats throughout the entire thing. And the important thing to note here is that there were small kids on board as well, so I couldn’t cry or freak out even if I did get scared. Poor things had life jackets on that were clearly for adults. I couldn’t help but give them the “sorry the adults did that to you, I know you must be umcomforable” closed mouth smile. They looked pissed.

But I had never taken a tour of the city on the water, and it was an absolutely beautiful spring day in May! I say Portland is a lot like Pittsburgh all the time, but Oregon is not anything like PA. Oregon has houseboats, and green landscapes all winter long, and salmon runs, and naked bicycle rides, and desert, and oceansides. And from most places, the residents have mountains and volcanoes in plain sight. I love this state, and especially this city. And that day, I got to see more, from a different perspective. I really appreciated it, and I was so happy that N was there with me. He just had a calm about him. Every time I made eye contact with him he was smiling. And just happy. Ah!! What was I doing?

After the river tour, we headed back to the cars. I sat with N for a few minutes, just talking…and laughing.

“Do you want to come for lunch? We’re gonna head to Kells. You’ve got to go.”

He looked dreamy at that moment.

I snapped myself out of it and told him I had to go home and take the dog out (who I haven’t mentioned before- huge, white American Bulldog and the sweetest thing to ever have separation anxiety). And it’s a good thing I did, because that meant I got to redo my hair and change clothes for the night!! You didn’t think I could stay in light blue plaid capri’s all day, right? Nope, frilly white mini skirt will do quite nicely.

I caught the MAX down to the Yamhill bar (if you know this bar and are judging me, then I know you never really lived in Portland because you’re missing out). I hopped off the train and looked through the bars front glass window and there he was…still smiling as we made eye contact. I walked in and realized that our small party of five from earlier had grown to about 20 more Irish guys (and some strippers). It was a little overwhelming when I walked in, having everyone say hi and introduce themselves.

I sat down next to N.

“So, you must work out.”

Everyone looked at him and then each other quietly, before exploding in laughter. I blushed.

After that it’s just a blur of G&T’s, pints, pool and dancing. The Irish guys loved the east side, but I wasn’t all that familiar with the bars on that side of town. I could walk to all my downtown favorites (I’m pretty sure we hit them all), and again, he stayed by my side the entire night. And we ended at Darcelles. We danced (honestly, he actually dances- like hold my hand and spin me ACTUALLY dances).  I was smitten. And he knew it.

And before I knew it, it was 2 AM.

On our way out, he held my hand. The night air felt so good. While everyone was hailing taxis, he just looked at me.

“Do you want to come to my place? We can watch the Big Lebowski and have a couple drinks. Promise I’ll get you home before sunrise. ”

If he hadn’t smiled when he said it and looked me straight in they eye, I probably wouldn’t have gone.

But I did. I hopped in the cab next to him, and he grabbed my hand again.

The next morning I woke up in his apartment, but I didn’t sneak out like the last time. I laid there wondering what the fuck I was doing.

And just when I was about to ask myself why I was still there, his phone rang. And I was reminded that he was engaged too. It was M.

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The Meeting (part 1)

When N and I met, I was in a serious relationship. Very serious. I was engaged. And guess what? N was too. It wasn’t planned, but that’s how it happened.

I got engaged (the first time) Christmas Eve, 2003. R got down on one knee, after church, in my family’s kitchen in Pittsburgh while we were home for Christmas. I had never been more excited. I think I cried for an hour. So, fast forward to May, 2004, and I flew home to Pittsburgh from Portland to start wedding planning. Every girls dream, right?! While I was home I bought my wedding dress, chose the venue,  planned the bridal shower and asked all my bridesmaids. The date was set for almost one year later.

But after all of the planning, I wasn’t ready to go back to Portland. R was going to be out of town for a week when I got back, and I really wanted to spend more time with my friends and family back home. So I called the boyfriend, but he didn’t think it was a good idea. He wanted me to come home. Fine. I leave. I arrive back at our apartment early evening to find it an absolute mess. Clearly he had had a party. Clearly the authorities had shown up. Clearly I was pissed. So when I call him to ask him about what happened, he tells me he’s done. He wants me out of the apartment by the time he gets back or he’s going to hurt himself. Fine. Done.

You may be thinking something like, “Wow! I can’t believe that! He ended their engagement over the phone, just like that?!” But, he did this before. He had been drinking and he really did say things like this all the time, and then the next day apologize and send flowers, etc. And it was getting really old. This was the first time he had done anything like this since we were engaged, and I was really upset but ready to follow-through this time. I mean, I had just planned our wedding! And my mom was going to absolutely flip on me. But, this was what I had chosen. I knew that he could be like this, act like I didn’t matter, and say things that were almost unforgiveable and I still stayed. This time was different.

After I cried for another hour or so, I looked at myself in the mirror and said this was the last time I would cry over this relationship. The last time. And I meant it. And then I asked my grandmother to send me a sign that this was how my life was supposed to be. I was alone in Portland, OR. I had just left the most important people in my life and went back to an empty apartment and a relationship that had reached its ending. I needed to talk to someone! And I believe she was listening.

After I pulled myself together, got a shower, put my clothes away, I called my girlfriend to come over and help me clean up the apartment (and lets be honest- my life). She made me feel a little better and told me that I couldn’t sit in the apartment all night, I had to go out with her and her boyfriend and their good friend, E. I politely declined, finished cleaning, said goodbye, and laid down on the couch to try and forget the day. And I started thinking about how I was going to tell my parents that I wasn’t getting married anymore.

And if they’d get their money back from all the down payments.

And where I was going to live. What part of Portland should I look in?

Who was going to help me move?

What did I get to take?

What were my friends at home going to say?

Do I just leave the ring?

What’s he going to say when he comes home and I’m not here?

OMG I had to get out.

I jumped up, called  J, did my hair and make-up and walked down to meet her and her friends.

The Unexpected

My cell phone rang on a Tuesday evening.

“Hi!” I said to my best friend, T.

“Hi. Are you home?”

“Yep. Just got the boys in bed, what’s up?” I asked.

“I don’t know how to say this.

A friend called me and told me something, but I don’t know if it’s true or what, but I didn’t want you to find out online or something.”

“What are you talking about? What?” I asked.

“R died. He died earlier today or yesterday, I’m not sure. I don’t know the details, but I wanted to let you know.”

I couldn’t move.

I think I winced. I think I sat down on my green microsuade couch. N sat down next to me and asked what happened. And then I said the words,

“R died.”

“Are you okay?” T asked on the phone.

“Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. I can’t believe it, but I’m fine. I promise, I’m fine.”

“Okay, well, I’m here to talk if you need me. You know that, I’m always here.”

“I know. Thank you. And thank you for calling me.” I said. “I’ll call you back tomorrow.”

She hung up. And I sat there. N apologized and kept packing for his work trip with one eye on me. I held back because I didn’t want him to think that I was too upset. Even though I wasn’t really upset at that moment.

 I immediately called my cousins. After talking to three or four, I called my mom. I don’t know if you’ve ever experience dialing phone numbers and going through conversations and movements like a robot, but that’s what I did. It’s like some kind of autopilot took over my body and just did all of these things for me while I stayed safe in my head and didn’t have to think about anything. I didn’t cry. I don’t think I could cry at that moment. I just knew I had to call people and let them know. So after I did that, I went to bed.

And I dreamt that he sat on the side of my bed, and grabbed my hand and we were out with all of our friends, like it used to be. He never let go of my hand. We must have talked to hundreds of people, but I held his hand as he talked to everyone and just stared at him. He was smiling and joking and acting just like he used to. And then we were back in my room. He was sitting on my bed again, and he pointed to a small door across the room and said, “Please, give my mom that ring.”

My eyes shot open, I walked over to the door, opened it and saw my old jewelry box in a box on the floor. I opened it and wouldn’t you know there was a ring in there that he had given me? And that’s when I started crying. I cried and wailed and sobbed the entire way to work. I called T on my way, leaving her a message that was utterly incoherent. I couldn’t think or breathe. I couldn’t believe that this was happening. 

And this is when life gets so complicated that you can’t really put it into words. I love my husband. I can’t say it any other way. This man that I married is the man who made me a woman and a mother and who supports me and who I could not live without. And here I am, in the car, unable to control the heartache of an ex passing.

Life.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the book. I couldn’t stop thinking about his smile. How he taught himself to play the guitar by listening to Sublime and Stevie Ray Vaughn CD’s. How he made friends with everyone if he wanted to, and how he made enemies if he wanted to. He loved my writing. And he laughed at stories I would write when I was 17 and we were bored on summer nights. He was so wreckless. Everyone knew not to let him drive their new car, he would definitely, unintentionally, do something to damage it. I thought about how we drove across the country together. Our first apartment. When he asked me to marry him in my parents kitchen. All those times he made me laugh until I cried. How he made me feel safe when we were out. And how sad I was that I never got to talk to him about any of these things. When we broke up, it was so awful. It was like losing a best friend. When I left our apartment for the last time, I thought for sure I would see him again, be able to talk to him again. It was just too painful at the time. I didn’t want there to be any doubt that we were through. So I changed my number a few days after I left. And I never told him where I moved. I just cut him out of my life. That was it. And here is life, creeping up on me in a way I never thought.

The weird thing is I did see R alive before he died, four days before. I took my son for a walk one evening, to get him out of the house because his brother had hand foot and mouth (you don’t want to know if you don’t know and if you do know, bleh). I had on black yoga pants and a pink jacket with my hair pulled up. And we walked down our street, toward the park. And as we got closer to a group of people talking on the sidewalk, I heard his voice. And then I saw his face under the hood of his black sweatshirt. I didn’t know what to do, it had been six years since I had even spoken a word to him. I wasn’t up for it. I reached out to get my son and barely caught the tip of his hood to pull him back to me. He was mad. I’m pretty sure his screams made the group look over, but I can’t be sure. My heart was beating out of my chest and I was mad, scared and faint all at the same time. I couldn’t do it. Too much history. Too much to say, or maybe, nothing left to say. I was happy. And seeing him brought back memories and feelings that I had forgotten.

The following Tuesday, I got a phone call.

I can’t help but think that was my chance to talk to him about life and everything that happened, and maybe put some closure on things. But I’ll never get that. And now I have to live with the fact that I didn’t even say hello. Or goodbye.

Christmas Recommendations

In case you’re visiting Ireland this Christmas (or you live there and you really want to see what I’m going to say), I wanted to share a couple recommendations with you.

Lullymore Heritage Park (http://www.lullymoreheritagepark.com/) has an absolutely charming Christmas experience for you and your family. They’ve got an elf hologram, an illuminated walk through the woodland, and an absolutely amazing winter wonderland, complete with Santa (and a SNOW QUEEN!!). Yes, I’m biased, but you’ll thank me for it later.

If you’re going to be closer to Dublin, please, please, please don’t miss a stroll down Grafton Street. You will be mesmerized by the strung lights above and the cobblestone below. Gaze at the Christmas window display at Brown Thomas (and all of the pretty things you can’t afford) and then grab a whiskey at McDaids Pub  (https://mcdaidspub.com/) to warm up!

Kildare Town is home to so many sites worth visiting (The National Stud and Japanese Garden; St Bridgid’s Well), but they’ve also got the most amazing high end shopping experience (but it’s an OUTLET, so no MSRP!!). It’s like a shopping “village” in the middle of a gorgeous Irish countryside. Seriously, that’s what it is. Kildare Village(https://www.kildarevillage.com/en/home/) is clean, relaxing and makes you want to stay. Amazing. My personal favorite is All Saints, but other than designer clothing stores, you can shop for kitchen accessories to designer baby clothes. There are a couple restaurants, but lunch would be better spent at Hartes uptown. The Village also has an outdoor kids area.

And one other thing. When you’re there, enjoy the smell of turf burning in air, the selection boxes, and most importantly, the people.

The Meeting (part 3)

It was easy to follow R to Portland. He got a job with a really great company, and moved in October, 2001, not long after 9/11. He was so scared to fly that he took a train across the country. I was still in school in Ohio, but I flew out to visit a couple times a year. He was really homesick at first. I know it got easier for him as the months passed and he made some new friends. It’s hard for anyone.

I moved out a year later, after some major relationship challenges. R was really great at being the person everyone wanted to be around and making everyone laugh. He was also really great at making me feel safe when I was with him. But this isn’t a story about how my life worked out with R, because it didn’t. As much as I thought I knew what I wanted for the rest of my life, I was wrong.

I walked into a bar right on Burnside (The The Marathon Taverna) on a rainy Saturday night, met with friends and was introduced to an Irish guy.

“H, this is N, he’s engaged to M,” she said.

“N, this is H, she’s engaged to R.”

And I looked up.

And I remember seeing his face for a second.

And then I saw stars. Actual stars. Like I got smacked in the face really, really hard (I have had that feeling before, but it was when I got hit in the face with a softball on the third baseline because I wasn’t paying attention…it hurt).

And then I smiled at him (he was the most gorgeous man I had ever met).

At first he didn’t smile or anything, he just looked at me, straight faced.

So I said, “Hi. Nice to meet you.” And stuck out my hand.

He smiled (finally) and shook my hand. And then we started talking. We talked about where we grew up, went to school, where we worked. It was really nice. And everyone wanted to leave and go somewhere else, so I got my things together (engagement ring in my clutch after all) and walked to the door with him. And then, walking to the next bar, he didn’t leave my side. We kept talking, and walking. And at the next bar we sat next to each other and kept talking. It was like we had known each other for years (yes, I know that sounds cliché). And as the night went on, I didn’t even remember that we were out with other people. I mean, I did, but I didn’t really feel like I was there with anyone but him.

And that’s when I started to get worried. N was looking at me smiling, telling me about his recent safari, and I awkwardly wished I had this in a real relationship, so I excused myself. I gathered my thoughts in the ladies (like ladies do) and came out level headed and composed again (kind of).

The night flew by.

It was wonderful.  That night, N texted me and asked if I wanted to go out with some friends again the next day. Um, yes.

The Meeting (part 2)

You may be wondering how I got here- walking around Portland, Oregon, with my family and friends across the country in Pittsburgh, PA. It’s not an uncommon story.

In high school, I saw a boy walking down the hall. He had light blue eyes, eyelashes for days,  a handsome face and an athletic build. He was always smiling and laughing, except when he looked at me in the hall that day. He stopped laughing and just stared at me walk by. I was new, having come from catholic grade school, and super intimidated, so I just stared back and walked by.

A year later, in mid-fall, he asked me if I wanted to go to a party with him.

“Sure,” I said.

I decided to bring a friend. He showed up alone.

We went to the party, spent some time together, and really had fun with other people who were there. After that night, he called me to hang out a lot. So I would go, because he was so much fun, and hang out with him and his friends, sometimes both of our friends, sometimes just us. We went to the park, we went to the mall, we drove around, he attempted to take me four-wheeling (I got out of the car and refused, as he laughed), we went to lunch. We had a lot of fun just going places together and hanging out with each other. It was really fun. This went on for months, until summer rolled around and he kissed me. I didn’t know what was going to happen after that, and I was really nervous. But, everything just kind of stayed the same, but became more romantic. We were a couple. And we started doing things as a couple, not just as friends. I introduced him to my family (as my boyfriend now), I met his parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. We went to family functions with each other. My siblings and cousins grew up with him there as part of the family. Our first official Valentine’s Day together, I had to work, and he filled my car full of pink balloons and left a bouquet of pink roses on the drivers seat with a note that said, “Can’t wait to see you later.” And when I did finally see him, he had a HUGE box wrapped for me. And he just stood there grinning and said, “Open it!” Inside were a million little things he knew I liked, like make-up, cd’s and clothes. He loved to spoil me. And I really enjoyed it. We spent more and more time together. I was now in college, so it was easy to forget about friends when he was around. And we got really serious.

But the following Valentine’s Day, he did something different. He had wrapped ten, individual boxes for me. He told me to open them in order, so I did.

The first box held a single rose, three pieces of red ribbon, and a page with three holes punched down the left hand side. It read, “R and H” in magazine cut out letters. I was confused. I laughed, and so did he, then he handed me another box. In the second was another rose, and another page, but this time, it said, “Our First Date” and he had written the story of our first date (which he claims is the day I showed up with a friend because I didn’t want to be alone with him). It was written from his perspective, how nervous he was, and how he would never forget it. I was shocked. It too had three  holes punched down the left hand side. Then he handed me another box, which held another rose, and the story of our first kiss. Each box held a page of our relationship together. And after the last box was opened and the final page placed behind the others, he tied them all together with the three pieces of ribbon. He had made me a book.

 

The Pro’s and Con’s

Sometimes, when I’m home with the kids and giving a bottle to the baby, I start thinking about moving back to Ireland. I mean, it would be MUCH easier now that I know what to expect. Everything moves at a slower pace (except the freaking train schedules), and there’s more time to focus on just family things, not so much work. And we’ve got so many friends and family there who have kids and really enjoy the same things we do (and more babysitters!).

Some drawbacks: I would have to remind myself that there’s no emergency room close by. The emergency care center in Newbridge was closed down a few years ago, so if there is an emergency, families have to travel to Naas, which is a good 40 minutes away on a good weather day. And I don’t know how the schools are. I’m pretty sure my kids would get picked on for being too nice- the boys are pretty tough over there, even at a young age. Uniforms are still used, all public schools are Catholic, and I believe Kildare has a school that is both boys and girls now. My husband, N, went to an all boys school. He is a wonderful person, but I believe that kids need to grow up around both sexes, not just one. It doesn’t seem normal or natural to me to have them separated. And, let’s be honest, fifth and sixth grade for girls are TOUGH. If there weren’t boys in class to make a distraction, I’m not sure what would have happened. I would prefer the kids stay in an environment that promotes both real world experiences and learning.

I would also have to consider the fact that I don’t have an Irish drivers license. I FINALLY passed my permit test (keep in mind, I had my US drivers license for eleven years at the time I took it, but I had NO idea how to answer a few questions about tractors and what to do on a ONE LANE BRIDGE), but I’m pretty sure it’s expired now that we’re not living in Kildare anymore. And me being the control freak that I am, I hate relying on N to take me everywhere. I’m just not that kind of person who can wholeheartedly depend on someone else, not with the kids needing things all the time. Not being able to drive would be tough. Not as tough as the doctor situation, but if you can’t get there, that’s a real problem.

Some amazing advantages: Walking up to town with everyone would be lovely. Grabbing lunch at Kinnitty Castle  (http://www.majestic-castles-in-ireland.com/kinnitty-castle-in-offaly.html) on a day we felt like just getting out of the house would be amazing.

And having family at Lullymore Heritage Park (http://www.lullymoreheritagepark.com/) is priceless. Having the woods and Irish bogs to run through and play in would make up for the yard that we would have to sacrifice (not like we have a huge yard now, but still). There are wild birds and sights to see, and their cousin would be close. It would be so nice for the kids to grow up around their Irish family.

Travel through Europe would also be to everyone’s advantage. We flew to London for 45 euro. I’m sure there are other fees involved, but it can be done CHEAP (hello, RyanAir). And the experiences they would get from being well travelled are things I can’t teach them, and they’ll never learn from someone else.

I can smell the green countryside and the fresh air. And I now appreciate how long it takes to drive to a movie theater and get to Dublin. Working in the city is a real experience that I have and will always love looking back on, but I don’t think I could do it now with four kids.

I’ll have to keep thinking about it. No rush now, we’re up to our eyeballs in home renovations. It’s nice to think about what could be though.