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Dana Glover
North Carolina

A 30-something married full-time mother of 2, part-time stepmom of 3; trying to find treasures I've lost along the way.

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Friday, March 17, 2006
Sadly, Dawson's Creek Spin-Off: Part I
Warning: This is a long post filled with early adulthood angst and suppressed emotions. Do not read if you are allergic to boredom or "Dawson Creek".

I ran into a girl from high school yesterday at the park. She is two years younger than I am but her brother and I graduated together. Her brother was one of my many "boyfriends" during elementary school. She and I caught up a bit on each other's life. I was introducing the boys to her and I made the comment that CJ was actually named after one of her brother's best friends. She seemed a bit surprised but I explained that "Box" and I were very close friends until his car accident. She asked me if I had seen him since the accident (Sept. 1993). This conversation brought up a lot of painful memories and very raw emotions of guilt. You see, Box and I were soul mates. I'm not saying that we were meant to be together romantically, because we weren't. However, we had a supernatural bond that allowed us to feel what the other felt and to know what the other was thinking, without words and even being 60 miles apart while I was in college. It was almost as if he and I had been twins and separated at birth. We always "got" each other. And yes, we did try the romantic/intimate thing -- for two weeks. I think we needed each other but without all the insecurities that come with that type of relationship. We knew we needed to live a little and there were still many folks out there that we were interested in. So, soul mates we remained. To be honest, Box was a gorgeous guy. He was tall (at least 6'2"), lean with a six-pack for abs, tan, dark hair and beautiful brown eyes that could seduce a woman like a big bowl of chocolate ice cream. When he wasn't smiling, he had a smirk on his face like he knew your deepest, darkest secrets -- and in my case, he did. Even hanging out as soul mates/friends, we would just naturally hold hands or sit with my head on his chest with his arm casually slung across my shoulder. I'll never forget the day that Box's mom wanted us to try an "experiment". She wanted to see if we could feel each other's aura. Yeah, I rolled my eyes at her, too but agreed to give it a try. She had Box and I stand about six feet apart with our hands up, palms out toward each other. She then told us to slowly move toward each other until we felt a "wall" between us. Box and I were cracking up but we proceeded to do as we were told. All of a sudden we both jumped as if we had been shocked -- the smiles faded and we stared at each other. We had hit a very hot, invisible wall, approx. 3 or 4 feet from each other. Box's mom started talking about "auras", connections, spirits, etc. -- I really don't recall because I was focused on Box. He had continued to walk toward me until he could touch my hands and we stood there palms to palms, soaking each other in. I know, I know. I can only imagine the amount of eye-rolling and gagging occurring right now, but it was a powerful moment for the two of us. Anyway ... we went on with our lives -- he dated many girls, I dated CJ's Dad. We graduated high school. I went to college (with CJ's Dad) and Box lived at home and found a job. We would call each other whenever "The Force" told us to do so. We had brief visits when I came home for holidays. Freshman year came and went for me. Sophomore year held many promises -- I had my very own apartment (meaning CJ's Dad stayed any time we wanted); I was taking some great classes in my major; I was making fantastic grades; I was developing friendships that I thought would last a lifetime -- then CJ's Dad's Mom died. Our lives were turned upside down. CJ's Dad's Mom was the one that held that family together. And CJ's Dad was her "Golden Boy". CJ's Dad wanted to quit college, but I urged him on. I did everything I could to make life easier for CJ's Dad, even at the expense of my classes and grades. CJ's Dad became very withdrawn and depressed and worse, he refused to grieve. He was in denial -- he denied that he was becoming emotionally isolated, he denied that he couldn't grieve, he denied that he was hurt, afraid, lonely, etc. Where does Box fit into all this? Well, Box was my rock during this turmoil. He talked to me, he listened to me cry, he made me laugh hysterically. He was with me -- well, on the phone with me -- the first time I ever got tipsy. And, he was the one that urged me not to give up on CJ's Dad and would ask me simple questions like, "Can you really imagine your life without CJ's Dad??" He would tell me how he wanted to be "Uncle Box" to my children and be the one to teach them how to fish, drink Mountain Dew with peanuts, and appreciate the Dallas Cowboys. I saw Box once during the summer before my Junior year. I spent the afternoon at his house, talking, laughing, listening to music. That would be the last time I saw Box, conscious that is. Labor Day weekend 2003 I tried to call Box several times -- I had a sinking feeling in my gut that I couldn't explain and I needed to talk to him. Two days later I received a call from Box's Mom -- my heart broke into a million pieces when I heard her voice. Before she could get any words out, I told her, "Tell me he's not dead. He can't be dead." She started crying and said that Box was not dead, but he was hurt very, very badly. He was in a head-on collision with another pick-up truck. The driver of the other truck died instantly. Box was thrown from his truck (he wasn't fond of seat belts) and he was in a coma. I told her I needed to make some arrangements but that I would get to the hospital as soon as possible. When I arrived at the ICU waiting room, Box's big brother sat me down to explain to me in detail what I would see when I went in to see Box. He told me about the abrasions, the swelling of his face and chest, the discoloration of his skin and the tubes coming from his skull. He told me that they didn't know if Box could hear or comprehend anything around him but that Box would need me to be strong and cheerful. I was also told I only had 10 minutes an hour to visit since we were in the Critical Care ICU. Box's brother forfeited his visit the next time around so that I could go with Box's Mom to see him. Even the painful memories of my own devastating car accident in '85 did not prepare me for the way I would feel when I walked in and saw my best friend/soul mate lying there. I forced a smile and held back the tears as I took his hand in mine and my first thought was "He's no longer mine." I don't exactly remember what I said to him, but I talked non-stop (imagine that!) until our time was up. I walked back into the waiting room and broke down. I cried all the tears that I had held back from my own car accident, from CJ's Dad's Mom dying and from Box's condition. Box's brother held me until the last tear had dried. He whispered to me not to give up hope yet but that I also needed to begin to prepare for the possibility that Box might not come back to us. I spent the night there that night. And the next and the next. I would drive the hour back to college each day to mechanically attend my classes, only to return each evening in hopes that my presence would draw Box back to me. Life continued like this for two months.
I'll take a break here to regroup and see if Blogger is going to cancel my account because of the length of the post or the possibility that I have broken some unwritten blogging rules about "angst and drama".


Dana
posted at 8:04 AM
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