Visual Memories

Oh, Sweetie- Spoilers

River: Funny thing is, this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together you knew I was coming here. The last time I saw you—the real you, the future you, I mean—you turned up on my doorstep with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Derillium. To see the Singing Towers. Oh, what a night that was. The towers sang, and you cried. You wouldn't tell me why but I suppose you knew it was time. My time. Time to come to the Library. You even gave me your screwdriver. That should have been a clue. There's nothing you can do.

The Doctor: Let me do this!

River: If you die here it'll mean I've never met you.

The Doctor: Time can be rewritten!

River: Not those times, not one line. Don't you dare! It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me. Time and space. You watch us run!

The Doctor: River you know my name. You whispered my name in my ear. There's only one way I would ever tell anyone my name. There's only one time I could.

River: Hush now. Spoilers.




I am watching Silence in the Library and Forest of the Dead and thinking of just how ironic that story line truly is to me.
Those were the first episodes of the new Who reboot I ever saw. Shortly before we got engaged. Wash begged me to try the show, knowing I loved the classic Doctor from before.
I fell for Donna and her frustrations at dieting in a virtual world.
I fell for River as a strong and not helpless female character.
I fell for The Doctor, for his dedication and tenacity. 

I had already fallen for my love, my Wash, my TimeLord. 

I miss you, Sweetie. 

Doves Cry

I am angry.

I don't know if this is a passing thing, a "phase" as it were, or if this is my new state of being.

I have a small cold. I'm not certain how my low grade fever is effecting me.



I am angry.
I am angry there is no space for me.
I am angry there is no safe place for me to talk, to someone.
I am angry that Hospice has to be considered part of the "safety net".

I am angry at my friends, the people I love. I am angry and love them at the same time. It's a painful contradictory feeling.
I am angry at life. I am angry at the inherent unfairness. Of it all.

I am angry that every week I see more friends have birthdays that place them at or right next to my age.
I am angry that every week now someone new is engaged, married, or pregnant. In about 6 months I suppose I'll be angry at all the births around his death date.

I am angry at myself and society. I am angry that I will never be pregnant again. That I will never carry life, that my husband will never live on. That I have no more family with his death. He was my family unit, and now it is singular, and I'm angry that I had so little time with him.
I am angry at the milestones I have and will miss.

I am so angry at society for telling me I am worthless if I do not reproduce.

I am angry at society for telling me I am worthless for being poor. I am angry when people say it is my own fault, my own choices. I am angry when someone implies Wash wanted or asked for terminal brain cancer. 

I am angry at myself because I cannot be fully happy for my friends.
I am angry at comments about couples trying to get pregnant for under 6 months, and how upset/sad/frustrated they are. I am angry when those same people then immediately get pregnant.

I am angry that I have no one to talk to.

I am angry at my best friend for dying, for leaving me. I am angry at myself for that very thought. For not being happy he is not in pain, like he wished.


I am angry when I stare at his TARDIS urn every day and night and wonder if anyone else remembers him?

I am angry that he died before so many wonderful things.
I am angry he will never see the Doctor Who 50th Anni. special. Or be part of it in some way, which he would have; if he had not had the cancer and was still alive.

I am angry at being told I have to change so many things.
I am angry that so many things will change and have regardless.

I am angry that I can remember the last hug I had from him, that I remember it was the last.

I am angry that I have to live a future without him. I am angry that I wake up every morning, and he does not, will not.

I am angry and it feels like a hot weighted stone upon my heart.

I am angry that I feel so utterly useless.
I am angry how disposable I feel. I am angry at the daily implication that my existence is worthless- or worse, costing of others.

I am angry, and so sad.

ECCC episode IV: A New Hope

There is too much for one, or even two posts from the last week. I will have to do a poor job of just summing it in brief.

I was happy. I was happy this past week, in a way I had not been since 4 years ago when Wash and I took our little trip to Vegas and got married.
Those few days of, and the two days of 'Honeymoon' we had after were my happy moments. The happiness in his face, our joy, and our utter faith and confidence that we (might have some bad and good moments) would be together from that point on, for decades, until we both died in our advanced ages- hopefully together.

That is really the only thing I could ever be mad at him for; he broke that promise. He promised, he swore to me he would let me die first.
I cannot be mad though, as he did not ask for it. He did not ask for cancer, and he did not ask for an early death. He did not ask to die before he ever saw 30 years go by.


So, it was a difference. 4 years without really having a smile, sustained joy. Excitement.

Meeting new friends was more wonderful than I think I'd felt it at any other time in my life. It is like an emotional puzzle with other people as pieces, all coming together to create a feeling of 'completion'.

Seeing some "old" friends was a true joy as well. I had a chance to bond and become much closer to someone Wash was quite fond of, and cared for. Well, he did that with all his friends, true, but I recall him saying many times over how much we all had in common- he expected us to be the type of people to remain close and good friends for our adult lives.
Having had a longer chance to meet and talk with her, his lovely Brother, I have to agree.
It was a feeling so lovely, so happy, so light!, to be able to talk to someone else who knew my Wash BEFORE the cancer. Who knew him as the person/man I had fallen in love with. It was easier to remember the happy times we had BC and to share them, and mostly to laugh.

It was good for me to see his friends and the other people he adored/loved who carry on his passions. Who love certain parts of architecture as he did.

Perhaps that is one reason why ECCC was so comfortable for me; instead of utterly terrifying.
It was a giant center filled with people very much like myself, and even more like my Wash. There was familiarity there. A sense of remembrance; not having ever been to Emerald City ComicCon, the exact layout was not familiar; but the people, the CosPlay, the games, the booths... all images that I recognized.

I went down at one point to the lowest low convention room/basement/lower basement.
Also known as the "Gaming Rooms".
..........
[Insert Table/Card/Dice/LAN gamers growling at yet again, being stereotyped even within the 'geek' Subculture, and thrown in the 'basement']

One person I spoke to suggested, perhaps only partially joking, that the elevator button just have a sticker with "Dungeon" put over the Lower Level/Basement button.

However, I wanted to see if I could find anyone who way playing Warhammer [40K or Fantasy] or a table-top game, since I play a bit myself. Mentally, it felt like Wash would also kick my ass or haunt me if I was at Con and did not check things out.
I am glad I did.
I met a exhibitor there who introduced me to a new Table-top game [Fanticide] which my friends ended up buying for me.

It is a pretty cool game to begin with; but more so, it is compatible with other TT sets. You can buy specific models for the game, of course, but you can also use anything else you already have/own.
For me, this is really the best I can ask for.

I can have a (new) game to play with some of *my* W40K sets and minis that I kept, and the local Games Depot took Wash's old stuff to be donated to their game room, for all others to play with. [Outside of what he Willed for his friends to keep]. I can go down, play on the terrain that Wash and I made, but not the *same* game that we played. It will not have those same memories, which are mostly keeping me from doing any W40K playing myself. It is too hard, when all I can think of is him as a missing partner.
With a new game however, I am excited to learn the new things, to build on the knowledge that Wash gave me by teaching me these kinds of games [slightly different than the D&D stuff I did a LONG time ago].
I'm excited about playing this new game.

I know that Wash would have been pleased beyond words at that.
I'm pleased with myself for feeling I'm doing this more for myself than just for his memory.

Highlights I will address in future posts; meeting specific people/celebrities, panels, Con commentary.


*****************************************************************

I am back home now.
My cats have calmed down, some. Aelphie does not wish to let me out of her sight (like she did as a wee kitten) and if she has the chance, will crawl into my lap.
She is not a lap-cat, either.

Leto has been chirping a lot more, and running around- pretty much acting like a kitten. At 3 years old for a male Maine Coon, technically, he still is a kitten. I am pretty certain he just missed having someone around- all.the.time.
That has been his only life really; as a companion. To Wash, every day for more than the first two years of that cat's life, he was with Wash. Then, me.
I think if Aelphie would tolerate it, he would play with her. She does not, alas.



This has been a very changing week for me. Though I have had a lot of fears, I have learned that I can get through them. Not all the time, or even with 100% consistency, but I can. More so, I tried. I put myself out, I lived as Tashi; and I let myself experience life as Wash would have (wanted).


The past week opened me up to trying again. To See.

There are times still to just be Going Through The Motions, and now I also feel ready to try living again.
That spark in me of love, and life is gone. I know that. He is never coming back. I will never feel that same lifebeat with anyone else.
But I still remain.

My heart still beats.
I still breathe, even when it is hard or I've forgotten how.
My blood still flows, my mind and body; still connected to each other and the world.


Brain Cancer- Glioblastoma Multiforme took my husband, my love, my life, my Wash, our future.
It took from me too, so much I perhaps cannot even list it all.

But I still remain.

I cognate.
I see.

I remain. 

There must be some way out of here

I think it has been long enough that I'm not spoiling this for anyone, but on the chance you have NOT seen season 4.0 or 4.5 of Battlestar Galactica and you even think you might want to; stop reading now.


I'll be at Emerald City ComicCon this weekend.
I'll be visiting with some very wonderful friends, some people who are supportive, caring, and people who love me and wanted to see me happy, do something nice for me.

This will be my first trip alone since I married.
This will be my first trip alone since I was widowed.

This will be my first 'Con alone, or without Wash.

I'm still planning probably on Friday going as Yves from TLG. Sunday, I'll be hunting Walkers in the convention hall.
But for Saturday (maybe Fri as well) I'll be going as Kara "Starbuck" Thrace.
Late series Kara.
Married Kara. Harder Kara.


When we were still hopeful about having a child, 'Thrace' was a middle name we both adored.
Our various electronics are named after Cylon models; we have Boomer, Athena, Anders, Leoben, and Tigh.
Wash saw the ending before I did. I was not caught up yet, and he wanted to see it when it was broadcast.
I remember him sobbing. I did too.

For different reasons now.

Kara had Anders.
I had Wash.
Kara watched as his brain went out, as it ceased to be 'human', more Cylon then.
I watched as the bits of humanity were slowly taken from Wash, his memories. His life.
We had the same kind of "goodbye", though on different circumstances.

I could not go to 'Con as Zoe Washburne. That still, is much too close.
Too many memories for me of hearing a wry laugh, "You nicknamed me in 2008. Did you know back then?"
Hearing my Wash play A.T. and keep asking me, "Tashi, why does my script for Serenity end on page 88, and yours goes to 130? Guys? ....?"

No, too much.

But Kara? I can be Kara. I can be strong like her.

*********************************************************************

Some day, I will attend a 'Con (or two) where I can meet Jane Espenson, Joss Whedon, "The Grand Moff" [as Wash would call him] and Ron Moore and get down on my knees and thank them.
I can thank them for creating something so wonderful it not only brought me to meet my husband, my soul mate, but gave him comfort in the last years of his life, dying of brain cancer.
When my husband could not remember what day of the week it was, he could still recite lines from BSG and Firefly.
When he could no longer run, I helped him to walk. When he could not walk, our friends rallied to help him crawl. When he could not even crawl, it was the worlds of Science Fiction; his favourite shows and characters that carried him home.
From "Firefly", he knew I could still fly true after he was gone.
From "BtVS", he knew we could both fight; hard, strong, and with heart.
From "BSG", he knew I would be there by his side. Imprinted on each other.
From "Doctor Who", he knew it was ok to let go, to leave, and to begin his next adventure after 'life'.
To explore.
To regenerate, but not as my Wash.

He loved the Cosmos, and the infinite possibilities that it contains.
And he loved the way that Science-Fiction brought together all those wonderful ideas, possibilities, worlds, characters, music, colours, shapes, creatures and beings.
That gave his life meaning.

So, I'll be looking out to thank people.
Perhaps, if you, Dear Reader, have the opportunity to meet one of these great creators before I do, you will also say thanks on behalf of my Wash.



'Never give up, never surrender!" - See you at 'Con!

Vague

I woke up this morning feeling weird and off. Neither cat slept with me; Leto enjoys his "perch" of the cat-bed on top of the laundry hamper.
The work comes along, slowly.

I ran into my landlord's father the other day while I was taking out the trash. English is perhaps is 3rd language, but he came over and gave me a hug and said he hoped I was well and they loved me as a tenant, and loved my backyard garden, and they (his wife and his kid, my landlord) missed Wash; he was a good person.
It was a nice reminder and good to hear.

My neighbours behind me have taken up on my style and have put up solar lights exactly like mine in their backyard and hanging from their shade/covering. I take it as flattery; my place looks lovely in the evening, and they must have appreciated it.

I had to take today off of really sorting or organizing. After doing the bedroom yesterday; perhaps the most emotional thing, it was a bit much.
Also a shirt of his I found at the bottom of the hamper under the canvas liner. I thought I had emptied the hamper months ago, but that shirt escaped me.
The pillows only faintly smell of him now, but that shirt was like the scent right around his collarbone, the smell I chase in my dreams. The smell that reminds me that when I wake if I keep my eyes closed I can pretend for a second or two longer he is not gone. That one.
It's only been a little bit of sobbing today. Thankfully. Nothing keening or racking.


There is an oddness and stillness within the house. I have to say house, because it does not feel correct to say "home". I've lived here longer than any other place as an adult, but without Wash, it just does not feel like a home. Home ceased being singular to myself (and Aelphie to a degree) when we got engaged and moved in together. I knew many many years ago that with the way I live and prefer to live, and can function... it is not something that is really compatible with the way the vast majority of people prefer to live. I lived on my own, by myself since I was 17. I moved in with Wash right around my 22nd birthday. He was the first person I ever could see myself or could consider moving in with. He accepted me, completely and totally. We had our growing pains the first couple of months, myself getting used to living with someone else; even thankfully under the fulfilled condition I laid out of needing a place with two bathrooms. He had always lived with other people. Wash was an extrovert and someone that I think was easy to love, easy to live with- for the most part. The incidents and adventures he had with all his roommates were told in the form of happy stories, jokes, things that might make myself twitch and scream, but he would only laugh at. That was Wash.
So it quickly became home with Wash. We would be married. If we moved for school for either of us, we would still be together, in a home, even if it was in a dorm room. That was the plan. We could handle renting places for a few years, get established, we even agreed we could deal with a child while renting for a few years before wanting to have our own [SF] home. Wash, being the Architect, had of course already filled two or three notepads with his designs for our future home; how it would be built, the material, the layout, how he could even expand additions on to it for office space, or workshops, or extra guest or children's rooms. He designed a greenhouse for me as well; he wanted me to have the garden of my dreams.
Home became wherever we were together.

Sometimes, often, I talk to his TARDIS urn. Probably at least once a day still. I never expect nor receive any contact back. It is not the same though. It is not his energy that is left around. His things, his memories, my memories, but not his energy.
Once we moved in, once we said our vows, it was to the end. To death.

He promised he would let me go first. He did not often break promises. He really was a 'man of his word', but that time, he broke it.
I did not ask much from him, but told him that I did not want to live out my life waiting to die after him.

I am happy for the recordings I have. For the videos he left for me. The cards he gave me long ago, the notes I still find around the rooms, tucked in books.
There are still days, many day, where I wish I could call his phone and hear his voice. Where I wish I could hear which messages he saved of me telling him I loved him. All of them? Many? I wish I could hear that voice. I wish I could understand why his phone service was shut off the day after his death.
He was not on my plan, but had his phone from his days long long ago in California.

It does not feel like 2013.
It does not feel "right". Things are changing. Some against my will or wishes, some things instigated by me for my own good.
Some nights it becomes about the simplest of things. Remember how it felt to hold hands.
Remembering what it was like to be lying down and staring right into each others eyes. He had soft, wonderful eyes. Happy, large, clear eyes. He was often smiling, but his eyes held most of his expressions.
I remember the texture of his beard. The colours in his hair. The shape of his ear and neck. How his hips drew in just slightly but down to firm thighs and great legs- be it a bit pasty.

He loved to bother me by surprising me in the middle of something to quickly give my nose a wet kiss.

I've moved my pocket-watch to the bedside table. The soft ticking is comforting. It reminds me of Wash, of his heart-beat.

I have to check the office closet, but it looks like I'm missing some key pieces to my bed frame. This now is a bit of an issue as I'd like to sleep off the floor now that Wash rolling or falling out of bed and hurting himself is not an problem to consider.

Time does not make it easier. Not at all. Time reminds me of the future I/we had imagined.
2013 was the point where he should be done with school and into his Apprenticeship. 2013 was going to be my point of finishing my undergrad triple, or starting grad school with a specific major. 2013 was going to be the year we started to make solid plans for long term; looking at careers, looking at places to settle, to build our home, a place with good school for the kids we wanted to try to have in a couple years.
It's not, though. 2013 is the year I'm a widow. It's the year I won't be traveling to Taliesin with Wash for his school.
2013 is the year that I wonder if I will have an anniversary; does it still count if the other party involved is deceased? Is it still my anniversary, or was it my/our anniversary?
2013 is the year I travel alone, because I am alone now. I don't have a husband, a companion.
2013 is the year I wonder if I can watch the shows I/we loved, without it being too painful to enjoy.
I'd like to catch up on Doctor Who, but I literally don't know how without him. It feels as wrong to me as waking up alone in my bed. Same thing with Blood and Chrome. It is hard for me yet to figure out how to enjoy something when all my mind can think of is how much I wish my husband was not dead to see it; to have his fanboy and geek heart enjoy something. Because he lived for certain shows. He loved me, this I know. But he lived for the moment Kara was screaming from the brig "YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!"
He lived to text me "Morning, Starbuck. What do you hear?"


I miss having an (amateur) astronomer as a partner. I miss being woken up for 15 mins to walk outside to enjoy a full moon directly overhead. Large, and bright.
I miss that on evening walks, he always knew the stars and planets.


It's only been 5 months.
I still miss the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with.

An Unexpected Journey

Yesterday was a pretty awful day.
Last night was filled with dreams and emotions; re-living the terrifying moments of last year.

This morning I wake up to be reminded of how much I am loved and cared for; because my beloved friends are sending me to EMERALD CITY 'CON 2013!

Seattle! 3 days of Geeks & Nerds; Artists & Authors. Friends!

I am in happy, happy shock.


I will have to post the video; my gift was inside another gift; an interactive story book.

MB, KB, LL, NM <3 are="are" p="p" wonderful.="wonderful." you="you">

So many people I admire will be there. So many creations I have grown up with, adore, aspire to.

I am still not certain how to take Wash, because he does have to come with me somehow, but he will be there too. It's just not a 'Con without Wash there.

Seattle: 2 months and I will be in you!

I am in shock.

Soaring

More to come.

TARDoor Returns!

When we first moved into our (my?) current home, pretty much the first thing my husband noticed was our door that was almost the same colour and shape as the TARDIS.

He asked a few times if he could put up a TARDIS sign. We did not have time the first Halloween, we were still moving in.
The second one, we were both in the hospital; I pretty much lived there for the couple weeks Wash was in there.
The third, he started to get back to the TARDoor idea again.

So, we started to turn our door/home into a TARDIS on Halloween. Traditions begin! [Occasionally on Christmas or Boxing Day as well]

He was SO PROUD of how it came out. He spent about 2 hours on the windows alone. Wanted to make sure they were "perfect". The architect in him.

This year, I was planning to just hide out with a good scary movie. We do not get too many kids on our street, and there are none living in the complex currently.

However, as I got on with my day, I started to feel like something more than just Wash was missing.

I did not spend as much time as he did on perfecting the location of everything, but I did my best.
Tonight, I will watch "Blink" and the other Weeping Angels episodes while I paint and wait for any kids to come by. It's also a good night for "Zombieland" and "Hot Fuzz". It's Tim Dalton!
I am still feeling pretty down, between some miscommunications with family members, some well meaning people trying to give me perspective but in a real badly phrased way, and just missing the fuck out of Wash. He loved Halloween. I might post pics of his old costumes tomorrow.
I hate money issues.
I hate having no credit. I hated to have to find money to pay upfront and in full for his cremation and death papers, and I've hated that after 7 weeks I still have not received a cent from the $225.00 Death Benefits I am entitled to as his spouse. Which is not even 1/3 the cost of what I had to pay.
I have tried to let a lot of my anger and hatred go, and to some extent, it has worked. To another, there is still a lot of anger to people who are now no longer in my life at all.

Back to topic. Apologies, Dear Reader, this is my life. Mid thought of anything, and thoughts of Wash or his end will come into my mind. Always.

So I spent a little time today bringing back out the TARDoor.
I don't think/know if we have any Doctor Who fans in the complex, I guess tonight I will find out.
One of the frat brothers who lives close to me is splitting a pumpkin pie with me tonight.
Minutes seem like hours, and then 4 hours will pass in just a few blinks to me.

This is *my* TARDoor. I suppose there is always a chance I might open it tonight and find my TimeLord.

Wibbly Wobbly

I grew up with The Doctor.

I even watched the movie of the 8th.

But it was not until I began to date Wash that I learned of the re-launch.
He was SO excited to share it with me, he even did it out of linear order.
The first episode I ever saw with him was "The Forest of the Dead".

Alex Kingston as Prof River Song had me in tears by the end of the episode, with no other context than that one episode.
We were both huge Moffat fans and he wanted a "Grand Moff" episode to reel me in.
It worked.


Then again, maybe there was a reason this was the first episode we saw together.
Things are not always in a ... timeline order.
We saw this before we married. I did not have cable, Wash did. He got BBC and convinced me back in the summer of 2008 to watch an episode.
I was already pretty smitten with Wash by then, but enjoying that episode with him, sharing those moments were so happy. I was able to be myself, to enjoy something "geeky" (it was not NEARLY as popular a few years ago as it is now) and to not be judged but fully accepted.
Wash had some wonderful foresight.

He said I would love Donna. I did.
He said I would love River Song. I did.

"The Doctor, in the TARDIS... Next stop; Everywhere."
"Spoilers!"

4 long years ago. Spoilers, indeed.
So much to come. So much pain. So many happy moments.
A lifetime in the blink of an eye.

I miss him, MY love, MY TimeLord.
It's like living with an echo in my mind.

"You and me. Time and Space. You watch us run."


Doctor: Come on, next chapter's this way.
Song: When you run with the Doctor, it feels like it will never end. But however hard you try, you can't run forever. Everybody knows that everybody dies. And nobody knows it like the Doctor. But I do think that all the skies of all the worlds might just turn dark if he ever, for one moment, accepted...
Everybody knows that everybody dies. But not every day. 
Not today.
Some days are special. Some days are so, so blessed. Some days, nobody dies at all.
Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million day when the wind stands fair and the Doctor comes to call...every body lives.



The time I had with you, Wash, I would not have a line of it re-written.
You live on in me.

Spoilers, Sweetie

Kevin Pratt-King came home today; for the last time.

As per his wishes he will have a part of himself shot off in rockets(details to come); the rest he wished to travel in his custom made TARDIS urn.

Only Kevin "Wash" knows how much bigger it is on the inside, or how big the pool in the library is, but he is where he wanted, and hopefully starting amazing new adventures.

Thank you to everyone who has shared his story.
Thank you to everyone for your amazing show of support for his family.
Thank you to his fellow Browncoats for carrying him, and thank you to his Whovian brethren and fellow geeks (and CF4L) to help make sure his final wishes would be carried out.

His energy was only in this form for 28 short years, but his love touched the world.

I'm not sure what his next regeneration would look like (he'd hope for Ginger too) but I know he'd tell me, "Shh, Spoilers."

You are now a Leaf on the Wind Wash; we will watch how you soar.

Wash...He did Abide

Lovely little eulogy prepared by a friend (Chalupa BR)

You...You were Fantastic!

"Death cannot stop True Love; it can only delay it for a while."

"I love you, Wash."

"As you Wish, Tashi."

Thank you all for your kind words.

Wash was a Saganist and a Doctor Who lover.

He knew he came from stardust and atoms, and he knew he was going back to that.

His energy is not gone, or destroyed. Just... wibbly wobbly a bit away from MY linear time.

Wash is the only person I know who made it almost 3 decades of life... with not a bad thought or word to be said about him. He was beyond special. Beyond unique.

He was more than my 1 in 6,000,000,000.

He resonated in my soul. He kept my heart beating.

And I know he would think it is no greater honor than to introduce all of you to the wonders of the Whoverse and Science Fiction.

His fraternity brother made the comment, "He was a geek evangelist!" ... he was.

He wanted everyone to love his shows and movies with the same passion he had.

Right now, every time I see a TARDIS... I tell him I love him.

Somewhere in Time and Space, he is out there now.