Dear Cim

Dear Cim,

A year ago today you left this wonderful world. In your mind it wasn't such a wonderful place anymore. You were suffering so much pain and angst. I can't say I understand the choice you made but I can't say that I'm angry with you either. All I can say is that I love you and it makes me sad that you're not here.

I miss you.

Not a day has gone by since last September 27th that I haven't thought of you. Most of my thoughts are memories of what we shared growing up together. I know how lucky I am to have had you as a very best friend during my teenage years, as young a young adult and as an "old bag". You were wild, funny, uninhibited, hot-tempered, forgiving and loving. You, my dear friend, were the "whole package" to me.

I miss you.

You're laugh still dances in my head. When I'm super-stressed, super-pissed, super-drunk, super-stupid....I hear your laugh. I feel you laughing at me. I feel you enjoying every single minute of all my bullshit. That laugh. I don't only feel fit, I see it . Dimpled and wide, head flung back as you flip your hair back off of your shoulders.

I miss you.

Time keeps ticking away and everyone you loved and knew are living their lives without you. It's what we have to do, we have no choice in the matter. You've missed a lot in this past year. A Halloween, a Thanksgiving, Birthdays, a Christmas, a New Year, a Valentines Day, a Easter, a Family Vacation to Gulf Shores, a 4th of July, and so much more. I know how much you loved the holidays. You decorated to the hilt, set the grandest of tables and cooked the most marvelous meals. You missed a lot and you're going to miss a whole lot more as the years pass.

I miss you.

I have to be very honest when I say that my belief in heaven isn't very concrete. I'm not so sure about the whole after-life thing. But I hope I'm wrong. I hope that you are somewhere way above the clouds and stars far beyond anywhere my eyes can see. I hope you are in the most beautiful place with soft, pink and purple skies, aqua seas, white beaches and a warm sun that is kissing your delicate skin. I hope you are happy and at peace. I hope, of all hopes, you are happy and...laughing.

I miss you.

Love and Peace,
Chrissa

Bringing in a New Year With Cim

It's New Year's Eve. 1977...almost 1978.

Cim and I are celebrating it together at her her house, a brick bungalow, on the East Side of Chicago.

It's a frigid, icy, snowy, wicked, winter's night.

Cim's mom is out with friends, her little brother away with a sitter, and her older brother out partying it up somewhere.

What are we doing? How are we bringing in the New Year?

Eating boxes of Life cereal, watching old Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers movies, making prank calls and tape recording every conversation we have and call we make.

It is such a fun night. (I still have the tapes to prove it!) I wish I had video tapes of the two of us acting out Fred and Ginger. Cim trying to lead me in the waltz, while I do steps to the Polka.

At one point in the evening, Cim and I get into a stupid fight about something I can't remember.

I am so pissed off that I tell her "I'm calling my Mother to come pick me up and take me home."

I grab the phone and take it into a bedroom and crouch in a corner. The phone extention cord is pulled so tight it might break! I dial...and dial....and dial....

Why wasn't it ringing? I yell into the phone, "Helllooooooooo, Hellooooooooo, I want to go HOME cuz Cim's being a biiiiiiiiiiitch!"

Finally I give up on the call. I assume the lines are down due to the winter storm that's been brewing for the last 3 hours.

I go to hang up the phone and there , leaned against the kitchen wall, is Cimmy holding the un-plugged end of the phone-jack in her hand!

She's laughing her ass off!!

Knowing I was talking into a dead phone suddenly seems funny to me too and my anger disappates. Cim is laughing so hard that she slides down the wall to the floor.

Before I know it, I am on the floor with her! We laugh and laugh and laugh! Jesus, how we laugh!

When our laughter subsides we proceed to taste test every condiment in her Grandma's fridge. We freeze her brothers underwear and eat a few more bowls of cereal - LIFE cereal cuz that is her favorite!

At 11:59 we are squeezed together on the couch, bellies full and content as best friends can be.
Content in our little world as a storm rages outside.

10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-----1!!!!

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" , I say to Cim.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR ", Cim says to me . And then...she picks up a bowl of warm, left-over milk and dumps it over my head!

We laugh again. And then we sleep.

Trying to Understand ...

On September 27, 2008 I lost my very best friend to suicide. She lost her life because of a mental illness that came on suddenly and unexpectedly.

It's complex.

I am not proud to say that I really haven't visited her husband or girls as much as I should. Visiting them rouses up pain and memories that are almost unbearable. It's not their fault. It's my fault. My inability to face her loss and the circumstances of her loss. I guess I'm just a wimp when it comes to REALLY dealing with my emotions when it comes to Cim.

I feel as if I let her down. I feel as if I didn't listen close enough and do enough for her. Actually, I really believe it. When I see her girls and husband, I feel as if I let them down. I feel incredibly guilty. This guilt sometimes consumes me. Somewhere, deep in my thoughts, I think that if I would have dedicated myself to her, really listened better, loved her more, comforted her more, been in her presence more, maybe she would still be here. It's not a blame-game --- I don't think. It's just a "feeling responsible" feeling.

All her life, except for 7 months, Cim was well, strong, healthy and very happy.
She had a WONDERFUL life, a life that anyone would envy.

She loved her beautiful home, her handsome husband -who absolutely adored her and she was devoted to her two intelligent, successful girls who adored and respected her as well.

Cim loved sunning by the pool with a cold beer, singing off-key karaoke, and taking photos of every moment of her life. Her door was ALWAYS open. Friends came in and out all day long. If Cim saw a homeless person on the street, piss in pants, unshaven and down-and-out she would invite them over for a shower, dinner, beer and jacuzzi. She was just that special kind of lady. She rarely passed judgement. Everyone enjoyed her jokes and sense of humor. If we wanted breakfast, lunch or dinner Cim would have it ready and waiting. 6am eggs, toast and mimosa's, 12 pm polish dogs & a cold beer, 6pm roasted chicken & a glass of Chardonnay. She did it all. She absolutely LOVED life with a vengeance. Let me say it again. Cim LOVED life with a vengeance.

And then, suddenly, asome illness took her in its vice and just would NOT let her go. This invisible "monster" needled its way into her mind and dragged Cim into a dark, dark place and just would not release her. She fought very hard and she got very tired. She couldn't' find a moments peace; not in her mind and not physically. She could not eat, she could not sleep, she could not think, she could not live her daily life, she just .... could not. Cim was truly suffering.

She saw doctor after doctor . She was in the hospital many times. She just wanted her peace of mind back, she wanted to know why this happened to her and how to fix it. I don't think the doctors knew the answer. Their answer was just another prescription.

No one could give her an answer. Not any of the doctors not any of her loved ones...not me. I talked to her for endless hours on the phone promising that "this will pass". But in honesty, I was just hoping it would pass. I didn't know for certain. I was just trying to lend her hope. Maybe I was wrong in doing so.

I know that Heart Disease is called the "silent killer". But I have come to believe that the REAL TRUE "silent killer" is mental illness. It's silent because no one wants to say it out loud. Mental Illness! There is such an unfair stigma attached to it. Great minds succumbed to this disease in the past and continue to succumb to it today. There is so much unwarranted "shame" attached to mental illness. It makes me angry. People who suffer from this disease don't want to be sick. Like everyone, they just want to live calm, happy, healthy, peaceful lives. They are NOT crazy. They are sick, strangled, incapacitated, scared and desperate.

I know of some folks who will tell someone who is suffering from depression, anxiety or panic "Snap out of it!" Well I say to them...Would you tell someone suffering from cancer, MS, Heart Disease, or some other sort of disease to "snap out of it!"?

No! You wouldn't because there is medical understanding and known treatment of these diseases. MS = degeneration of the meylen, Cancer= fucked up cells, Heart Disease = disease of the valves.

Right now, science isn't advanced enough to assign a definite equation to Mental Illness. Someday we'll be there, but until then...It's just a stigma. A silent killer, a monster.

It's been really hard. I miss her every single day of my life.

I really want her back. I want her back for her husband and her daughters. And, I want her back for me. I want her back for HER. Back healthy and happy so she can enjoy her life as she once did.

Cim saves the Day...and Me

It was around Mothers Day about 15 - 20 years ago.

I'm not ashamed to say that at that point in my life I was going through a major, major depression. The shades were drawn. No sunlight could seep into my life; even if someone pulled the shades up on the sunniest of summer days. I was in the deepest, darkest, dampest basement of my life. No sunshine could seep in.

Cimmy lived far away in Kansas. She always wanted me to come to visit her but I didn't. I was afraid of airplanes and not confident enough to drive alone. She'd call me and I'd talk a few minutes but have to hang up because I was so depressed I couldn't concentrate on the call. I rarely called her. To be honest I wasn't a very good friend to her at that time. I am ashamed to say that. Even though she would get pissed off and not call me for awhile, she never, ever gave up on me. Never.

Back home in Indiana I was working my hardest to fulfill the role of wife and mother. Being a mother fulfilled me. If it weren't for my kids, I probably would have curled up into a ball and just died.

I don't think anyone could understand what being in a "dark, dark place" feels like unless they have been there themselves. It's just dark. And lonely.

Sooooo, anyway. It was around Mothers Day 15 -20 years ago. That's where I started and want to begin again.

I was a stay-at-home mom and my kids were in school. I had lots to do. LOTS! I was so tired and overwhelmed.

There were AT LEAST three days worth of dishes in my sink. Dishes sitting in cold, soapy, stinky water. Dishes overflowing onto the counter top. My stove was crusty; proof of three days of cooking - dried spaghetti sauce, pancake mix, dehydrated rice and peas stuck in the metal grates and a wooden spoon glued to the stoves surface.

My counter tops didn't boast one clear area. And, I remember very specifically, a bunch of shriveled, black bananas sat in a very expensive Longaberger basket.


The kitchen floor was sticky and the kitchen table was strewn with the mornings breakfast cereal bowls, mail, hair-ties, brushes, clothes....you name it. Basically, my kitchen was a total, catastrophic, dirty MESS.

The rest of my house equalled my kitchen.

That day I had two choices:
1. Go shopping to find my mother a Mother's Day gift.
2. Tackle the kitchen and the house.

I chose shopping for my Mom. The rest would wait till I came home.

Searching, shopping, looking for a perfect gift for my mom I pushed my cart up and down the aisles.
I remember dreading going back home.
I remember how much I didn't want to have to deal with piles of dishes, a dirty stove, floor and house.
I remember being pulled back into that deep, dark, damp basement in my mind.
Ugh! I didn't want to go back home.

But I did.

When I walked in my front door the smell of lemon-fresh Pledge filled my nostrils. I dropped the paper shopping bag and peeked into my living room. Holy Crapola! Everything was dusted and vacuumed. Spotless! I felt a rush of relief and excitement.

Suzy's bedroom was spotless with clean sheets and sparkling furniture. Eddies was the same!

Piles of clean, folded laundry sat on every ones beds!

Lo and behold my kitchen....MY KITCHEN was IMMACULATE! Not a dish in the sink! My stove look brand new!

A fresh bunch of bright yellow bananas sat perfectly in my Longaberger basket.

I could lick my kitchen floor it was so clean. And my table was clear.

Except for a note.


"Dear Chris,

I came in from Kansas and wanted to surprise you with a visit. You weren't home and I waited. I got bored. I thought I'd help you out a little bit and I sure hope you don't mind. Your house looks great (ha-ha).

I love you, hang in there. You are doing a good job. You are doing the best you can!

You are going to be okay. You will get better. I promise.

I love you always,

Cimmy"

I have read that note three thousand times. I just threw it out about two years ago and how I regret that now.

Walking into that clean house renewed me. It renewed my spirit and gave me the ounce of hope and PUSH that I needed. I'm not bull-shitting when I say that THAT very day was the day I started coming out of the darkness. That day I saw the light.

I always told Cim that and she laughed. She didn't believe me.

I realize what she never did. Cim was a bright ray of sunshine in everyone's life she touched. She had a special way of caring about people and making someone feel worth-while and loved. She had a very, very unique gift. And even more importantly she never expected anything in return. She was a "giver" not a "taker".

I believe Cim's light and spirit still shines on. I feel her presence in my life everyday.

In the daytime she is the stongest ray of sunlight lending warmth to my day.

In the night time she is the brightest star twinkling, winking and dancing in the sky.

She IS looking down on those she loves. Praising us and smiling down on us.

And she knows we are looking up, singing our praises and smiling back at her.

Cimmy - Hopelessly Devoted

It's 5:30am on a hot, Chicago August morning in 1978.

The sun is rising.

We're still awake and squished together, cuddled up and giggling in my twin-sized bed. She's farting and pulling the blankets over our heads.

"Turtle!"

"Jesus Christ Cim! Cut it out, you pig!" More giggles and tremendous laughter.

My brother's voice bellows from his bedroom. "Shut the hell up you crazy bitches! I can't stand it anymore!"

Nothing gives Cim and I more pleasure than knowing we're driving my older brother out of his mind. His bedroom is attached to mine and there is no getting away from us. Gotta love those old Chicago bungalows!

Cim rolls out of bed, taking and wrapping all of the blankets around her long, lanky body. She musses her hair up and makes - what she thinks is - a sexy entrance into my brother's room.

"Hey Tony, I'm Sandra Dee and I want you to know I don't drink, I don't smoke, I don't rat my hair and I get ill from one cigarette - 'cough, cough, cough'"

"Get the hell out of here Cim. You're nuts!" barks my brother. But, from my bed, I can tell that he is holding back his laughter and loving every minute of it.

Cim starts singing Hopelessly Devoted to You at the top of her lungs. It's 1978 and Grease (the movie) was the summer craze.

I'm laughing hysterically because now my yellow lab, Rebby, has jumped up on Cim and she is using him as her dance partner and acting as if he is her John Travolta a.k.a Tony Zucco. Cim is singing, "My heart is saying Pleeeeeeeease don't leave me. My head is saying dooooooon't let go-o-o!

My bedroom door flies open! There stands my dad in his boxer shorts. "What the HELL is going on in here!? It's 5:30 in the morning, god-dammit! Knock it off!"

Cim turns and makes a run back for my bed. The blankets are tangled around her feet and she wipes out, face first onto the floor! WWHHOOOMP!!! Rebby climbs on top of her and starts to hump her. My brother breaks out into a loud, uncontrollable laughter. Tears are falling down my cheeks and I think I'm gonna' pee my pants!

Cim lifts her head from the floor and her enormous brown eyes look Dad square in the face. Calmly and in her sexiest voice Cim says, "Hi, I'm Sandra Dee, I'm sorry and I love you."

"Go to bed, god-dammit !" yells Dad as he slams my bedroom door shut behind him.

Cim climbs back into bed with me and whispers, "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't get you in trouble. You're dad hates me now." I could tell she was hurt and scared. Cim really loved my dad.

A few seconds later my bedroom door squeaks open. Dad's head pops in, he looks at us with a tender eye, pauses and then he gives Cimmy a grumpy smile and says to her, "I love you too."

Then the door quietly shuts behind him.

I don't think my dad will ever know how much that meant to her.

We couldn't help but love her.

Remembering Cim

It's been five months today since Cim died. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of her. I've never had a biological sister but Cim was the closest thing I could get.

My memory today brings me back the beginning of our friendship.....

We went way back.

She lived in the big, brick, bungalow next door to me on Avenue "H" when I was about 4 or 5.

Cim had a head of hair full of tight, curly, brown ringlets and a dimple deeper than the grand canyon. My Uncle Floyd adored her and called her "Tiny Bubbles". He used to take us to Cal Park and then to Paul's Candy store. He gave us each a dollar and we each walked away with a brown paper bag filled with 100 pieces of glorious, penny candies.

We played dolls out in front of our houses. We dug in the dirt with silver spoons and we giggled and played innocently as children do.

Then she moved away.

About 10 years later I was with my mom buying new shoes and l0' and behold Cim and her mom were in the same shoe store. At the checkout counter, our mothers reminisced and caught up with one another. Cim and I were both about 13. Arms crossed and bored as hell, we just eyed one another up and down. I thought she looked like a Farrah Fawcet wanna-be and later I learned she thought I needed some major "work"... I was a horrible tomboy.

A few weeks later I was riding my bike around the neighborhood and I noticed a fight going on in the Taylor School playground. Curiosity got the best of me so I pulled up, hopped off of my new ten speed and made my way through the mob. There was Cim in the middle facing off with some stuck-up, popular bitch I never liked. I remember her yelling to me "Why don't you dress like a girl!?", when I'd ride my bike past her and her little "click".

This girl was saying some horrible, hurtful things to Cim and it seemed as if everyone was on her side. I don't know why but I spoke up and stuck up for Cim.

"Don't let her talk to you like that Cimmy, kick her ass!!"

Cim looked up, and saw me and when she did, that bitch kicked Cimmy right in the crotch.

Down Cim went and IN I went. I grabbed that chick and pulled her down on the ground. I punched her in the face and demanded she appologize to Cim. I pulled her up by her shirt so she was nose to nose with me and then I spit on. I remember telling her that she was just jealous that Cim was prettier (and Cim was gorgeous) than her and I her pushed her back down so hard that her head hit the cement. Everyone knew she didn't stand a chance. I could fight - I grew up on a block of all boys and I was pretty much fearless. The mob pulled me off of the bitch and scurried away, arms around her crying, sorry, little ass.

I leaned over to Cim and said "Hi, do you remember me? I'm Chris and we lived next door to one another when we were little . I saw you in the shoe store awhile ago" Cim responded, "Yea, I remember. We used to be good friends and you beat all the boys up for me."

And so our story goes. We remained best friends from that day forward.

I have so many wonderful stories about our friendship that I want to share. But I think it's best just to start at the beginning.

I wish our story didn't end.

I miss her.

Who's Gonna?

At work, pounding away on the key-board, answering emails, taking calls, learning new shit everyday. I call it "shit" but really, it's not. I just call it shit. Good shit. Shit that keeps me busy, challenged and absorbed in...well...shit.

Anyway, I'm doing my "shit".

Looking up every thirty seconds to look at a photo of my Cim a.k.a Cimbo a.k.a Simmy-simmy a.k.a Tiny Bubbles a.k.a Bitch (in the kindest, most endearing term). I just look at her.

Damn!

She's gone.

I can't call her tonight to tell her about my daily drama. She's not gonna call me to tell me about her daily drama. We LOVED hearing about each others drama. We loved making each other see the most ridiculous sides of our drama.

Who's gonna make me laugh till I practically pee my pants?
Who's gonna buy me my V.S jammies at Christmas time?
Who's gonna come to my place and sit on my roof and smoke a cig with me?

Who's gonna be my prom King?

Who's gonna tell me to "shut the fuck up"?
Who's got a dimple deeper than the grand canyon?
Who's gonna compare saggy tits with me?
Who's gonna do one of my home-spun face lifts me?

Who's gonna?

Losing Cim

Recently I have lost my very best friend. Friends since we were children and someone I can honestly say I loved almost as much as I love myself.

It's difficult. I miss her. I want her back. I need her and I miss her.

Right now I feel as if I will never laugh again with someone the way I did with her.

My Cim. My heart. My friend. My sister.

Some folks say that time heals all wounds but deep in my heart I don't believe it --when it comes to the sorrow that I am feeling in regards to losing her.

Cim was so outrageously funny. Outrageously serious. Outrageously caring. Outrageously loving. She was an outrageous person in all aspects of her life. And I miss her. And I loved her...outrageously.

Home-spun Facelift

Physically I feel and see my youth slipping away

As I creep closer to 46. I find myself looking in the mirror a lot. Deep crease lines along each side of my mouth, I look like a puppet. My eyelids are starting to sag a little bit too. I'm beginning to resemble my old polish aunts. I'ts kinda depressing. I don't like the whole aging thing. Aging makes me feel ...well, old.

Staring in the mirror I take my fingers and gently pull back the skin on my face and then I pull up on my eyebrows. Wow, what a difference...I look ten years younger! Damn I'm cute!

If I win the lotto I'm getting a face lift. Or a boob job. Or both!

After indulging in a few glasses of wine, home alone and bored, I occasionally give myself a "home-spun" face lift. I don't recommend this technique.

Duct tape is the secret.

I pull my skin back and duct tape it back behind my ears. The crease-lines disappear!
I lift my brows up and duct tape the skin as tight as possible along my hair line My eyes suddenly come to life. The secret to this method is to overlook the duct-tape when viewing the results.

Home-spun face lift tips:

• Remember to remove the duct tape if you have to run out on an errand. I ran out to Walgreen's one day with tape on my face and bumped into a few neighbors; not realizing I had duct tape on my face I proceeded to carry on conversations with them. Embarrassing.
  
• Don't fall asleep with the duct-tape on your face. Peeling it off in the morning it NOT a fun thing and it does remove a layer of skin which results in very strange scabs. It's likely to remove clumps of hair. Ouch!
  
• Don't photograph yourself . Friends are likely to find the photos, print them and give them to you in a frame as a Christmas gift.

Oh the vanity of it all! Aging Sucks.