Chapter 13 Farewells and New Beginnings

The weekend ended wonderfully. Long walks, longer talks and dreams of a life that could happen if we were willing to give up all the dreams we had made since we were 10 years old swimming at the park pool or catching crawdads in the canal by Honey Treat Yogurt. It was so bittersweet. Mike's parents couldn't have been nicer. I think they also understood that we had way too much to get through to make it so they let us live in the fantasy land of picket fences, vacations and Sunday dinners around our own kitchen table. That weekend, I loved Mike enough for what I thought I would need to draw upon in the upcoming months and years. And he did the same. I drank in his face, smile, touch, words. I wasn't sure when I would see him again. Saying good-bye was torture. I have never left Mike with tears. I figure I owed him better than that. I always said good bye with a smile, eye to eye so he could see the love I had beaming back at him and when I had to walk away it was with my head up until... until I rounded the corner and he was out of eyesight. That's when I lost it. Sobbing is a kind word. I cried the whole way to Sacramento and many nights into my pillow. I just missed my friend. I missed my love. I had no idea how many times throughout our lives I would say those two sentences. "I miss my friend. I miss my love." But there was my 18th birthday to focus on and college to start and work to keep me occupied. Having Mike's family close was a blessing. One of the brothers always had to go somewhere at any given time and I enjoyed the one on one time with my newly adopted family. There were dinners, family movie nights, shopping and visiting. I also started attending church with them and taking religion lessons from the Mormon missionaries. I'm not sure why this next part is hard to write and seems to be the block that has taken me so long to keep up with this story. I honestly started learning about Mormonism because I was convinced Mike was trapped by a Satanic cult and didn't know it. My goal was to learn what I could and save him. Instead, I discovered a faith that fit in with what I believed and wanted for my life. I was drawn to Christian principles primarily because I have always had a close and special relationship to Jesus Christ. I learned I didn't have to give that up but instead was encouraged to grow that relationship as well as look upon my family as a unit that will exist forever instead of just in this life. This lead to me being kinder to my parents, making an effort to express love ...all good things. There were things about the church culture and dogma that concerned me but I was determined to take the parts of the religion that I had fallen in love with but leave the rest out. So I made the decision to be baptised and the date was set for November 24th. The backlash and freak out from various family and friends was not expected. It seemed at times I got it from all sides. I don't blame a single person for expressing their concern. I felt it was the right decision for me but in reality I wasn't completely sure. It was true that this path I was taking had potential to alienate me from my non Mormon family members but I was determined it would do the opposite, it would bring us closer. And it did. But it was a hard won fight that would cause hurt and misunderstandings and I did some things right and a lot of things wrong but all in all it went as smoothly something like this could go. My baptism day was held at a church in South Sacramento. Mike flew in from the Air Force Academy to baptize me. We had a song, prayer, an explanation talk on baptism and how important it was and that Christ Himself set that example. When it was time for the baptism, a font of warm water was filled. I would enter from one side down a set of steps and Mike would take the other. In normal fashion, Mike was worried I might slip and instead he slipped and fell into the font which made me feel so much more comfortable. Once I was baptised and confirmed a member of the church I was exhausted! We went home and sat on the couch and listened to Linda Ronstadt's CD she made with Aaron Neville. We just sat and listened quietly. My heart was heavy and full and I was hopeful that this would mean I got to keep Mike. I couldn't lose him and I was willing to do whatever it took. I remember feeling unsure in my skin and also proud of my decision to live a life of religious devotion. Being a Mormon was going to be hard. There was a lot of worldly things I was required to give up. I was determined to be the best Mormon I could be. I was defensive if anyone was even remotely critical of the church. I looked to the older women of the church for my example of what a good Mormon woman looked and acted like. I remember my friend Greg's mom (mother of 11 I think) told me she was so glad I had joined the church because now I could just let all that feminism garbage go right out the window. There were lace collars. And jumpers. Little House on the Prairie scripture covers and women speaking in whispered voices. Blue eyeshadow and pink cardigans with pearl buttons. And children. Children everywhere. Babies crying, toddlers crying, ten year olds with highwater pants and slicked down hair passing the sacrament and teenagers not much younger than me who were referred to as the "youth" where as I was lumped in with the "women" and "adults". There were also kind faces, welcome hugs and a few women; Elaine Devey, Jan Hoyt, Karen Smart, Margaret Haas and Marsha Bownes that I used to look to and say..."there I am. I'll find my way. Some day the real me will fit in." Unfortunately for Greg's mother, the feminism garbage never quite made it out the window. Jumpers, lace collars, pink cardigans never replaced black knit dresses, boots and red lipstick. I never have had a scripture cover and as soon as you could get scriptures on an electronic device I embraced the technology. Whispering? Bwah ha ha ha ha. Not my bag baby. And kids. Yick. Don't like em, unless I love their parents and even then...meh. Eyebrows were raised. I'm sure my future mother in law had her share of explaining to do. But there was one person who just loved the fact that things were getting shaken up and wanted me to always be the real me. Even when I was trying to fit in and be a stereo type of the perfect Mormon, there was one voice who thought it was unnecessary and stupid and kept telling me God made me perfect. Mike truly became my best friend in those early days of my church membership. He stood proudly by when I stuck my foot in my mouth and got cheeseburgers with me when I just couldn't stand not going out to eat on Sunday. He just wanted me. Mormon or not, green haired and blue teethed he still would have proudly stood by and said to me "its so cool you are different." But he was back at the Air Force Academy and would not be coming home until he needed to pack his bags to leave for two years to serve as a missionary. How would I ever navigate this new life without him? How would me, an 18 year old flighty teenager who still wanted to have friends and fun and flirt ever make the longest distant kind of long distance relationship work? And what about all the other stuff in our way? I just kept getting in deeper and deeper and somehow knew in my heart that there would be more tears and goodbyes than reunions and laughter. But how can you leave the thing you love the most in the world? Loving Mike, standing by him, making us work became my cause. Women's rights, civil rights, protecting a woman's right to choose, protecting children and the poor all took a back seat to protecting us. I would do anything to make it work. So I was stuck with tears and good byes. It would all be worth it. Right?