The Next Step. Entry 9

Continued from.... Entry 8

The flight to and from Phuket is always tough, unless you are flying business or first class. Many layovers, seats too close with not enough room. After our first stop at Narita Airport in Japan, I pop a Zanax. Luckily I get the bulk head with Mia and Nat in 3 seats behind me. I throw my legs over the arm rest which does not lift up and the next thing I am aware of is the flight attendant waking me to get ready for our landing into San Francisco. I have slept 13 hours.
HOME
This is when I wallow in uselessness while Mia bursts into action.....DNA testing for the baby, contacting the Embassy for how to start proceeding to get the baby here if in fact he is Josh's. She is on the phone constantly while I think I am becoming agoraphobic. I don't go out. Rick brings home things to fix for dinner. I don't answer the phone.
I do write thank-you notes for all the lovely flowers and messages from friends and family. I have a hard time talking to my mother who at 93 is heartbroken that her first grandchild has died, but I don't want to relive Phuket and that's all she wants to talk about.
Rick is my rock, the best thing to happen to me, bar none. After 3 marriages and many relationships that did not work out, I hit pure gold. He gets me and is kind and reasonable and leaves me alone when I need to be alone. I know this is hard on him too, but I don't really think about him. I just go through the motions and he is there for me. When we are lying in bed, I want to burrow under him: disappear.
Nights are the hardest but what saves me is Tarn. Once again, Tarn. Late night in the US is mid -day in Bangkok, so we text and message and email at all hours of the day. She is missing Josh in a different way than I am, but her pain is acute and we need each other. Sometimes she will call me and I will get up at 2:30 in the morning to talk to her.
She is also married to Adam Zima an actor from the Czech Republic. They married on Feb. 28, 2012, and Josh died Feb. 28, 2014. This is really bad. The marriage suffers and they separate less than a year later.
Tarn and I talk endlessly about Josh, what he was like when he was little, how they met, what they did together, why they broke up, how she always loved him, "He the love of my life". We talk about ways to have A killed. Well, I talk about ways to have A killed. Tarn wants no part of it. We laugh and we cry and she gives me strength. Imagine you have lost someone you would die for and it is 3AM and all you can think about is how you miss them and the what if's, the why's.....and all you have to do to get immediate relief is to message someone who is going through the same thing you are. I am eternally grateful for FACEBOOK. I tell her the word LOSS is one of the loneliest words in the English language. I am grateful for her company late at night.
Mia is driving to LA to pick up Josh's car. He bought a custom detailed black BMW, a few years old, in which to tool around LA and San Francisco when he is in the states. His best friend from childhood, Adam, has been using the car in his absence. This annoys me greatly as I am getting letters at our house, addressed to Josh from the DMV; ticket after ticket. I say to him, "Bring the car to us and we will house it. It cannot be good for Adam to be putting all those miles on it".

Josh sends me money for the tickets and the car stays in LA
Mia's plan is to sell the car and pay for the freight for all of Josh's things and whatever money is left over will go to paying for DNA testing, customs reports, flight costs to Phuket and back. We have been spending money we don't have.
On the way back from LA she gets a flat tire and learns that the tires are bare. She is sitting by the side of the road with my granddaughter Micaela who is 9 waiting for someone to pick her up. This is so how Josh operates, that she can't help but berate him in her mind. I understand completely.
She puts $800.00 worth of new tires on a credit card and her mechanic gives her $800.00 cash and $1000.00 worth of work on her car in exchange for the BMW, which had way more mechanical problems than we had counted on.
I decide I need to write an obituary for Josh. I spend the better part of the morning composing it and decide to put it in the local Marin paper, The Independent Journal. I go to submit it and they tell me with the picture I have included it will cost me $567.00 for one day! God, are you kidding me? What a racket. A small column with a postage stamp picture$ 567.00. The San Francisco Chronicle wants over $700.00! I post in in The IJ. I drive home and it hits me; my son is dead and I have the obit to prove it-should anyone care to ask.

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Tarn thinks the baby is Josh's. She starts getting signs from above. A lot of Josh's friends tell me he comes to them in their sleep. I get nothing. I doubt I am a good mother. I remember druggy Stephen telling me I was hard on Josh. That kills me. And then one night I have the most vivid dream: We, maybe Rick and me, were traveling, somewhere in Italy, and we were late for something and I was riding my bike very fast through a courtyard and there was Josh dressed in white, picking out cards for me. He wasn't buying them. He was picking them out and showing me what they said. One said, "To the best mom ever". Another said "I love you" and it had a red holographic flower on it. And we were laughing. Awake, I would pray over and over that he would come back to take care of his little boy, but in this dream he came back to take care of me.
We are now approaching June and Mia is making headway. The DNA has proven the baby is indeed Josh's son. He is my son's son!

To be continued...