My thoughts are still a jumble of memories and emotions. For the most part, strangely, I don’t think it’s hit me yet how completely he’s gone from my life. There are the photos that he sent to me via the Line app; there are messages on the Line app and a text or two on my cell phone. There are E-mails that I sent to him. After having lost touch with him for 25+ years, it kind of feels as if he’s on an extended vacation somewhere without internet.
When Noy came to pick me up at BKK back in October of 2014 and we saw each other again for the first time in all those years, it struck me how much the cigarette smoking and alcohol had aged him – far more than I’d expected, considering he’s only a few years older than me. He’d walked right by me in the airport. I can’t be sure if he wasn’t really paying attention or if he actually didn’t recognize me. Although he definitely looked older and more frail, I immediately recognized his sweet face. Always after that, whenever I saw frail-looking older Asian men, I wondered if they’d been beautiful young men like him. It made me feel bad for the way that I sometimes dismiss older people when passing them on the street, in the store, at the movie theater, etc.
Shortly after we’d met and began dating, we’d celebrated Noy’s 21st birthday together. We didn’t go out to dinner or dancing or anything like that. Two of his three sisters, his younger brother and his older sister’s boyfriend were there, though. His older sister and her boyfriend made some Thai food, while his sister that’s the same age as me made a pizza with whatever ingredients she could find. There’s a Kodak of all of us, sans Noy (since he took the photo), sitting at the table frozen in time. Who knew that 38 years later, he wouldn’t make it to his 59th birthday, but I would once again be reunited with those two sisters and his brother in Bangkok to send him on his journey?
We used to go to the movies a lot, both in Kansas and in L.A. In Kansas, when we were in college, the walk-in movie theaters cost $2.50 and the drive-in movies cost $2.00. Rather than popcorn and Swedish fish, we always took our own shrimp chips and Cadbury Fruit and Nut chocolate bars; I’d inevitably exit the theater with chocolate smeared somewhere on my clothing! The first movie we ever saw together was “The Goodbye Girl” at a walk-in theater. We also saw “Star Wars,” “Saturday Night Fever” and “Grease,” among others, in Kansas. He had a bunch of international friends, most of whom were single, who often went along with us – guys from Colombia, Venezuela, Lebanon, Vietnam and a few other Thai guys. In L.A., I remember seeing “The Road Warrior,” “The Breakfast Club,” “E.T.” and “Year of the Dragon” with him, three of them at Mann’s Chinese Theater.
The year and a half or so that we were apart (him in Kansas, then in Arizona; me in Northern California), I’d written a “diary” to him. It was a thin, blue “Thinking of U” notebook. Whenever I’d miss him, I’d write something in the diary to him. I also wrote in there after he came to see me over the holidays and after spending Spring Break with him in Arizona. I wrote in it a few days before flying from Casper, Wyoming to L.A. to live with him and begin our life together. I wrote to him in there once after we’d broken up. I wrote on the final page after we’d reconnected via telephone, but had yet to see each other. When I saw him that October, I gave the diary to him. “It must be bad,” he said. “It’s not bad at all!” I insisted. Neither of us ever mentioned the diary again. I wasn’t sure if he’d ever actually read it, since he didn’t like to read in English. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he threw it away or never looked at it at all. However, when he passed away, I asked his family to see if they could find it. If it was still around, I wanted it back, so as not to forget any of those precious memories that I’d written about. One of his nephews managed to find it and sent me a picture of it on Line to make sure that it was the correct “diary.” The nephew is still currently in Bangkok, but is returning to the U.S. at the end of this month. He’s promised to bring the diary with him, then mail it to me from his home state. In the picture that he sent me, there were several other papers stored inside the diary. That makes me believe that Noy at least opened it and read part of it, probably using some of those papers as a bookmark. It also makes me wonder if reading it rekindled all the wonder of our first love and was instrumental in his decision to return to the U.S. to visit in June, although it will never come to be now.
A few weeks ago, the person that introduced us back in college called me. She said that she’d been thinking about me and wondering how I was doing. Obviously, she’s aware how hard I’m taking this; she just wanted to tell me that she’s there for me. When I was with Noy in L.A., I was sort of insular, in the sense that I only had 2 or 3 people that I hung out with. If I wasn’t doing things alone or playing with my Chow Chow, I was usually with him and/or his Thai friends. Therefore, most of the people who knew our history together were from our college days; I’ve lost touch with many of them. It’s difficult for me to talk to any of my current friends about him, as I don’t think any of them truly understand how deeply I loved him or how much I’m grieving.
Every night when I go to bed, I sleep with his picture over my heart. I’ve never slept well in San Francisco, anyway, but now it’s even worse. I wake up constantly throughout the night and always call for him. I know he can hear me. I felt his presence a couple of days after my return from Bangkok, the weekend after that and a few more times. Yet, because I’m selfish and miss him so terribly, I wish that he’d come to me every night to make this transition a little easier.
It’s probably hardest for me in the morning. I remember how I kissed him and my Chow Chow “goodbye” every morning before I went to work. Noy would be half asleep in bed and my Chow Chow would be sitting by the window, waiting for my kiss on the top of his nose. Even when I’d be angry with Noy, I’d always kiss him goodbye because I’d be so worried that something might happen to him that day, then I’d regret not kissing him.
I went to a movie last night by myself. It was about some guy remembering his youth, his lost loves, his friendships, all the parties, etc. When he finally spent the night with the woman who was probably his deepest love, it showed them cuddled up in the morning together. Even that made me cry.
All the clichés ring true. “Hindsight is 20/20.” “You never know what you had until you lose it.”
I don’t have a point to this post; just reminiscing and continuing to mourn the loss of him. Please bear with me while I try to get through this.