KEEP BELIEVING

Finding the balance of moving on with life and being the link to the past and a good mom to 2 little boyz who don’t have a daddy is becoming increasingly difficult.



After the first year anniversary of Brian’s death, I felt an odd sense of freedom. I felt as if perhaps I was no longer under what I perceived was the watchful eye of many on-lookers awaiting my response and reaction to each “first.” And while I had been moving on with life and trying to help the boyz move on with life, I still felt an expectation was upon me to handle each situation with a certain degree of emotion even if I wasn’t feeling much of anything.



Now, I feel the expectations are perhaps dissipating. I am forming new relationships and friendships that didn’t know me as Brian’s wife. I have people in my life that wouldn’t even know I am a widow if I didn’t tell them. They know me as this girl, Angie, not this “you are so strong, you have been through so much yet look at you” 38 year old widow. I can’t tell you how liberating that is. Because I spent so much of the first 6 months embracing the role of grieving widow, reaching a point of wanting to live life again was conflicting to say the least.



In order to reach a point of wanting to seek a possible intimate relationship again, I had to ensure myself I was not in love with Brian anymore. This was especially difficult because I was very much in love with Brian when he died. And because I embraced the role of grieving widow for so many months, I was still fostering that love. Then I started to feel stirrings to advance with this part of my life. I knew I couldn’t give my heart to anyone else if I was still holding it for Brian. So I had to fall out of love with Brian. It was a very guilt-ridden process to allow myself to fall out of love with a dead man that did nothing to me except die.



Today I am very okay with that. I know this is so painful for so many of you that read this blog to hear, but I am no longer in love with Brian. I love and value what we had. I cherish him as I do anyone that I loved or cared for that has passed on before me. But, in order for me to love again and be loved again, I can’t be in love with Brian anymore.



The only difficult part about not being in love with Brian is the pain I know it causes so many others. I know for Brian’s family, friends and many of my family, I am the link that instantly reminds them of him. I know they look at me and expect him to shuffle in behind me at times. I know to watch me move on is a painful reminder of his permanent absence.



So, it is hard to be me. It is hard to be excited about the next chapters of my life when I am with people that realize they experienced the last chapter of that part of their life just by my presence. The book is over. They cannot have another Christmas with their son or watch their brother celebrate another birthday. They will not experience another backyard barbeque or card game with their friend/relative. And they are incredibly sad about it as I concurrently have been able to let go of that and become excited about the possibility of holidays and special occasions with someone else someday.



It is also hard to be me in the sense that talking & reminiscing a lot about Brian can, depending on the situation, hold me in the past. It can cause me heartache and keep me reliving past moments instead of looking towards the future. I feel like I have a lot of future ahead of me. I am 38. I hope and pray I have as much life to live ahead as I’ve already lived behind.



The largest conflict is the boyz. Oh my, the boyz! It is a constant struggle to find a healthy balance of healthy grieving and acceptance. One day there may be a brief mention of Daddy’s ability to play hockey, then there are several days with no mention of Daddy at all, then there are days when they hold tightly to every piece of memorabilia they have and refer to him as if he may walk through the door at any moment. I realize that is grief – it comes in waves and it is unpredictable and illogical. But, the most difficult aspect of helping them handle their grief is knowing that I have come so far in my acceptance and am even eager about what lies ahead while they just want Daddy. I can almost sense that they know I have let go of Brian so much, so they purposefully hold on to try to force me to.



I will always keep Brian’s memory alive for them as much as I can. However, the healthy balance between keeping his memory alive and living in a past life is difficult to find. I want them to have pride about their daddy. I want them to remember the activities they did together. I want them to know about the type of man he was. I want them to know as much about their daddy as possible. However, I also know that they were 6 and 7-1/2 when he died. I know they will likely have spotty recollections from this time of their life at best. Knowing that, for the last year I spent so much effort drilling those memories into them so they will have more vivid recollections, I am no longer sure if I have done them a favor or a disservice.


This is all not even mentioning that they both handle and process life and its issues in polar opposite of each other and the challenges associated with that.



Regarding Brian, so often the boyz seem to live in the past. I want them to have a healthy outlook on what lies ahead of them. I want them to feel empowered and strong. I want them to feel capable and sure of themselves. And Brian isn’t here to help me do it. It’s all me. So, I have started to change my focus from our former family of 4 to our current family dynamic trio. I am more intentional in the role of encourager and cheer-leader and leader instead of saying things like “your daddy would be so proud.” And he would be. I just don’t know the best way to handle having them accept his death, yet want to know he WOULD be proud and also know that we have to live with our current circumstances and use what we currently have to forge ahead in life. I want the memories of Brian to be healthy and to be just that – memories, not what drives them in life, not what they are looking to as their present circumstance.



As I do this, I notice them holding on and grieving all over again. I don’t know if it is good or bad. I am mixed and conflicted. They are reminiscing a ton about Dad. They are sad and I am here for them. If they have questions about Brian, I answer them. If they feel like they need to cry, I give my shoulder. I kind of feel like maybe this is good to an extent, that we have been living in the past to such a large degree that they haven’t really processed as much as I had thought they had. I wonder if their nostalgia and sadness is a step forward.



I don’t know. I just know it is hard. WAY HARDER THAN I THOUGHT. It is complicated to know how to manage and handle it all.



Mostly, though, it is very difficult to find the right balance.



I imagine it will get easier in time, but it’s all gonna be about balance.

Dear Brian,

This is so personal that I can't believe I am choosing to write to you about this. I think I am choosing to write to you because even I am surprised by my reaction.

It is "that" time of month for me again right now. Yesterday was the beginning. And you know what? That simple, stupid, regular biological condition makes me miss you so much.

Why?


I have really never missed a cycle in our entire relationship except for when we forced my body to do so during our in-vitro and insemination attempts. I have never been pregnant. I gave up the idea of becoming pregnant several years ago. So WHY THEN would this make me think of you and miss you more?? I can't make sense of it.

Is it because my emotions and hormones are on overload causing me to overreact to everything?

Is it because this biological function reminds me of my own sexuality and the fact that I forever lost my partner?

Is it because it reminds me of the monthly conversation that would ensue after I told you things would have to be "on hold" in the bedroom for a few days because I "started"? You would almost always reply with some sort of sassy "Ah... That makes sense now," or, "Yeah, I kind of figured it was coming" comment to indicate in recent days I had been perhaps less than rational or a bit overemotional. To which I would ALWAYS reply, "Babe, if you THINK I am emotional or PMSing, then it is REALLY UNWISE to point it out." Is it really possible for someone to miss a conversation like THAT?

Is it because this time reminds me of the longing look you would get in your eyes after a few days and the gentle nudge you would give me as you passed by whispering, "Are you close to being done yet?" You always made me feel beautiful, loved and needed. Is it because no one is here making me feel beautiful and loved in an intimate way now?

Or is it simply because it is yet another painful reminder of the fact that despite your absence we cannot stop life from moving on? I can't even stop my own body from moving on.

I don't know the exact reason, but I do know that right now I miss you more than ever. I love you.

KEEP BELIEVING

Dear Brian,





I couldn't believe it today. I woke ready to face my next milestone date - our 12th wedding anniversary. I came down to a ready-made programmed cup of Starbucks in the coffee pot, sat down at the computer while the kids were still asleep ready to read some comments from yesterday's post. Then I saw it. Look at the blogroll on the right side of my screen. Do you see it?





KEEP BELIEVING





On a day when I ache to celebrate our love together - our triumphs, our struggles, our perseverance and our devotion through it all, I struggle to live our motto - KEEP BELIEVING.





Then I see that so many I have never even met are mourning with me. They are celebrating with us. They are sending me their love and thoughts and prayers and links. This whole blog world that has introduced me to a new kind of friendship - one that has been very one sided for the last 6 months - continues to amaze and humble me.





And I can find the strength to KEEP BELIEVING.





Here is last year's post I wrote on our anniversary. It made you cry. So few times I saw you break down and lose it. This post made you fall into a heap in my arms declaring your love for me and how lucky you felt to be my spouse. I still think I got the better end of the lucky stick. Even now. Even without you here. :





Brian,11 years ago today, I donned my princess wedding dress in great anticipation of becoming Mrs. Brian O’Neill. 11 years ago today, I stood in front of hundreds of people and God and declared my life-long love and commitment to you, and you to me. 11 years ago today, I became the luckiest woman alive.





One month later, we would find out you had brain cancer. The next 3 years, while we were still newlyweds, would bring us despair, surgeries, chemotherapy, insurance battles, abstinence from sex so we could bank sperm for a possible future family, uncertainty, and turmoil. The next year would bring more chemo, a move, a job change, more uncertainty. The next few years would bring infertility, adoptions, another job change and move.





We would spend our 10 year anniversary in a romantic little restaurant in San Francisco with your brothers by our sides sharing our eclectic dinners because you would be going in for major surgery the next day to remove part of your brain tumor, yet again. This time, we would be warned of the risks of paralysis and speech deficits, just to name a few. Your brothers shared our anniversary because, well, everyone wanted to share that night with you not knowing what tomorrow would bring. The next year would bring more heartache, more struggles and more chemotherapy. We would live our lives from test result to test result, dreading what may come next. We would find ourselves here, fighting every day for balance between normal and battling cancer.





There is no perfect balance.





If someone would have told me on our wedding day what would evolve over the next 11 years in our lives in detail and asked me if I would marry you anyway, my answer would be a resounding, ABSOLUTELY.





You see, if I had all the knowledge of what I just detailed, I would also have known that we would be blessed because of each other. I would have known that I would get the shot-gun seat to your spiritual growth. I would have known that because of you, I would become a better person. I would have known that our trials, while surreal and sometimes horrific, would shape our character by the way we choose to adhere to our bond, believe in an all-knowing God, and respond to the trials. I would have known that we would have a beautiful family of 4, just not in a traditional way. I would have known that you would bring me joy and happiness and love and strength - emotions so raw, pure, and true that they hurt. I would have known that as I watch you in anguish fight for your life every day living in fear of becoming a family without you, you would be the one giving me the strength to know we would be okay. You would be the one consoling me. You would be the one continuing to lift me up telling me, “You can do it, baby. You got mad skills. You got it going on. You are beautiful. You are better than you give yourself credit. I believe in you.” I would have known that every life you touch has a new piece of happiness they didn’t even know was missing – the laughter you bring, the sarcasm, the witticisms, the thoughts you provoke, the insight you provide.





I would know all that and I would want it all again.





I love you with a indescribable passion,
Your ever-adoring wife, Angie

I miss you, Brian. I love you.

Dear Brian,

The morning you died - March 17th, 2009, Mindi came around 5:15 am. We went to sleep around 6:00 am. As I was lying there with Mindi by my side instead of you, I asked her if she remembered that feeling you get when you have been on a boat all day - that feeling like you are still on the boat even hours after you get off the boat. I laid on my side - I could feel your heart beat. I could feel your breathing. I could feel myself on your chest in the crook of your arm listening to you and breathing you in, moving slightly with the rhythm of each breath. I had laid like that with you sporadically that entire day while your body shut down. I had laid like that with you for years. That was my spot. I told Mindi about the feeling - like when you get off a boat and still feel like you are on a boat. "I feel like I am still laying on his chest," I said, "and I hope that feeling never goes away."

Brian, it is already going away. I don't want my sea legs yet.

I miss you, Brian. I love you.

KEEP BELIEVING

As promised, I have decided to bequeath you with some Angie wisdom and wit.

I was going to start with my evaluation of The Bachelor, ABC's ridiculous reality show. I can think of nothing more UNrealistic than this reality show. A man speed dates several women, makes out with most of them and in 6 weeks' time falls in love with several, proposes to one and usually breaks up a few months thereafter. I refuse to watch this show as I believe it exemplifies perfectly what is wrong with our relationships and marriages today - a lack of commitment and earnest effort towards making things work. Anyway, I did attend a bachelor party - or a Bachelor VIEWING party. I went to make fun of my friends who actually DO watch this show - for reals. I dressed in all white, carried my lace clutch, donned my pearls and wore my hair in an up do with my wedding veil - all in the spirit of total mockery. (and I would post a photo, but I didn't remember my camera and my friend that took the photo STILL has not sent it to me.) I also gave a running cynical commentary during the entire airing. That'll teach my friends to invite me to their earnest partyn for the sake of "some color."

What upset me most about this particular season was that this man, who subjected himself to a public breakup and on-screen heartache in a previous season of the Bachelorette, thus bestowing the same humiliation and pain to several women this season, is a single father. And he exposed his 3 year old boy to this confusion and unrealistic view of relationships and morals ON SCREEN. ABC, you have sunk to new ratings lows allowing this child to be brought into this mockery of courtship.

On Saturday night, I saw this perfect summary of this season of the Bachelor and how Jason will explain it to his son some day:


I figure why go through all the effort to be witty and wise when someone else has done it for you.

My second snippet of wit and wisdom is in regards to the child's haven, Chuck E Cheese's, which I am renaming Future Gamblers of America. I am convinced that Chuck E Cheese's is owned by Harrah's Casino and is grooming the next generation of Riverboat Regulars. Whatever happened to the Showbiz Pizza of yesteryear - the place where we played Pole Position and MsPacman, etc. - games that took our token and we actually PLAYED? My children now go through 20 tokens every 12.7 minutes mindlessly dumping them into random games of chance - games in which you watch the mesmerizing wheel go round pushing a blinking button 1.4 seconds later hoping it lands on the jackpot of 25 tickets so you can get a sub-standard dollar store piece of junk that will be destroyed before you reach the car to go home - causing a melt down of epic proportions. And I pay money for this - lots of money. Honestly, Chuck E Cheese's has morphed into slots for youth. Unfortunately, it is one of the only places to go in this town on a cold winter day and still get out of the house with kids.

You're welcome for walking away a little more bitter insightful today after reading this.

KEEP BELIEVING

Chicken and Rice with Hawaiian Rolls.

blueberries, strawberries, cantaloupe, bagels, 30 small boxes of cereal, 24 cookies, 15 double packages of muffins, 12 breakfast biscuit sandwiches, 10 coffee cakes, 6 English muffins, 6 bagels, 1 bottle of wine, and a partridge in a pear tree (only not really.)

My favorite part: the bottle of wine since the theme of these "few" items is to help with the mornings. Now, THAT is a good friend!

Aren't these girls beautiful? Inside and Out?

KEEP BELIEVING

Not to beat a dead horse, but the last post I gave you a link to our interview at church lat weekend regarding finding peace.

As we were leaving the parking lot, I was overcome with a few thoughts I WISHED we would have shared. This is the letter I wrote when we got home so I could capture those thoughts.

Pastor Cal,

Brian and I completed our interview yesterday with Dave regarding our difficult situation with Brian’s brain tumor, bleak prognosis and finding peace in the midst of that.

Naturally, as we drove away, Brian and I thought of 10,000 things we wished we would have said that we didn’t say – the countless times we experienced God’s grace in the midst of our struggles – an inspirational card sent when it seemed all we could do was cry – a letter from someone Brian barely knows telling us watching Brian and the way he handles the situation gave them a renewed hope and attitude in their own trials – an insistent lending hand just when I thought I couldn’t handle another unexpected task.

However, I think what we most regret not saying outright is that finding peace in the last 11 years of our struggles has always been a choice. It is a conscious effort on both our parts. Brian had a choice as he lost his ability to use his right hand to never throw a ball again OR to teach himself to throw with his left hand. He chose his left hand and he can still pitch to his boys in the backyard. He had a choice to never write again OR to teach himself how to use his left hand for signing his name and eking out some legible penmanship. He chose to teach himself how to write with his left hand. Brian could easily choose to sit in a corner and fall into a deep depression, which would be understandable given his diagnosis and resulting issues, but he chooses not to wallow in despair. No, he rallies each day despite his own body making it difficult to do so. As for myself, I have a choice of not having things performed around the house because Brian can no longer do them OR I can become Brian’s hands and speech where he cannot. Brian has taught me how to better handle confrontation in a calm and respectful manner when he was unable to speak the words he knew needed to be said. Brian has walked me through wiring outlets and 3 way lighting fixtures when his own hands failed him. Brian has taught me how to handle power tools and hand tools and other trades equipment. He is giving me life skills to handle the things life may throw at us in the event of his possible death, but for now, it gives us great pride to accomplish life’s challenges together – as a team. I have a choice each day of denying the situation and living like it isn’t happening OR making each day memorable and enjoyable.

Whenever people tell us they admire our strength, our determination or our attitude, I tell them there is nothing special about us. We are not defined by our circumstances in life. Peace comes from how we choose to respond to our circumstances. There is nothing any of us could do to honor God more than to handle our circumstances with the utmost dignity and Christ-like character possible. I look at Brian’s attitude and the choices he has made over the last 11 years, and I see nothing more God-honoring than that.

We choose to love and to laugh and to cooperate and to communicate and to make each day count for something. It would be easier not to choose these things, but it would rob us of peace and joy that is so readily available. We choose peace.

In Christ,
Angie O’Neill

KEEP BELIEVING

Our interview about finding peace in the midst of life's storms was played at church this past weekend.



Here is a link to the audio file. Go to message player and click on the audio file for Finding Peace on Dec. 14. I could not figure out how to embed it directly in here because I am stupid about such things, so to listen to this will take you a couple of steps. I am sorry.



This link is to the entire message which I would naturally encourage anyone to listen to because I think it is powerful, but our interview portion starts with approximately 10:30 remaining (about 32 minutes into it) and plays until about 4:00 minutes remaining. The entire message is a little over 40 minutes.



You can hear some of the issues Brian has with his speech here. Prepositions are one of his most challenging issues - he uses the wrong one often. He knows what he wants to say, but the words just do not come out all the way he intends - Expressive Aphasia.



There were so many things I wished we would have said after the interview was finished, but I think the guy that did the editing of the interview did a fantastic job making it coherent and meaningful. One day I will post the letter I wrote when I got home from the interview that afternoon of all the things I wished I would have said. For now, though, I want you to listen to the interview in its purity without knowing the "coulda, shoulda, woulda's" of it.



KEEP BELIEVING

I was looking around the other day at all the back-to-schoolers. I watched the high school bus come and go. In my day, I attended a Catholic high school that didn’t have a bus. We drove and carpooled. Watching the highschoolers board the bus got my brain spinning 6 degrees to wherever and I was taken back to high school momentarily.

When I think back on high school, as well as cheerleading, big hair, homework, late night telephone calls, learning to drive and my BFF, I am also reminded of one particular person I can’t get out of my head. There was a girl, CF, in my school to whom I was less than pleasant. When I say less than pleasant, I should say downright MEAN. I mocked CF behind her back as did most all of my friends. When I had the chance, I would engage her in incriminating conversations in which she would reveal more things that showed her peculiarity like where she bought her clothes or how she differed from the rest of the ever-conforming high school girl me and most of my friends were becoming. I got her to reveal that she shopped at K-Mart and that she thought K-Mart rocked which was TABOO for anyone to ADMIT in high school. (For the record, I do not shop at K-mart much now, but it is CERTAINLY not beneath me. It is just not convenient for me.)

In my puny defense, CF was odd. She spoke in a strange monotone way. We wore uniforms, but she dressed strange for most highschoolers. She was shorter than even me, which said a lot at my 5-foot height entering high school. Maybe that is why I picked on her. Maybe it was because she was too forthcoming and eager to try to meet people and make friends. Most likely, it was because I was just insecure and ignorant and found one easy prey. I don’t know, but I am not proud of it. At. All.

I think of the years that CF was tormented by not just me, but by most of the class. She wasn’t cool and she didn’t try to be. And what I remember the most about high school was constantly trying to be cool – at the expense of the law, my dignity and purity, my family, kindness and my grades.

I think of how my heart would PAIN if my boys' classmates were not treating my kids nicely or fairly. When either of my boys tells me of a bullying situation, we address it, discuss it and remove them from it if possible. Because, who wants their kid hurt? But that is what most of my class and I did to CF for all 4 years of high school.

CF would find a friend here and there to hang with. Her freshman year, she seemed unscathed and would find some folks to sit with at lunch or during assemblies. She showed up for many school functions by herself and would mingle with a few. In the next few years, as we grew and *ahem* matured (said rolling my eyes), our class seemed to have less and less to do with CF. She would resort to hanging with younger classes who didn’t know yet that she was somehow labeled by the rest of the student body as odd. She was welcoming to others and always interested in making a friend. When she came to school events, she resorted to hanging with the teacher chaperones. Eventually, she stopped attending altogether. She was probably beyond lonely.

I remember finding out later that one of the reasons CF was so small was that she had many health problems as a child. She wouldn’t dress in front of anyone at gym class (and come one, for whom ISN’T that act awkward at that age) because she had a huge scar from open-heart surgery as a child. It didn’t faze most of us in the class. Sadly, it just cemented her weirdness.

At lunch, I always sat with the same people. We had our group of friends. K, T, N, G, L, and I were always at the same table. Some would rotate in, out and around with other tables, but if you looked around the cafeteria, there was always the same people give or take a few that sat with the same people. Not necessarily because anyone was being exclusive, rather because that was our group of friends that we hung with mostly on the weekends, too. That is whom you tend to migrate towards. That is natural.

I can remember CF sitting by herself many times during our senior year. If her lunch coincided with the freshman lunch or with a person from one of the other classes that was nice to her, she would have one or two people to sit with, but it didn’t always happen.

It breaks my heart to this day to think of her sitting there by herself at lunch.

I think about myself today as I walk into a social situation and look around a room not knowing anyone. To whom do I migrate? I tend to migrate to those who look like me, dress like me and act like me. Why? I know when I leave situations like that, if no one befriended me or it was simply awkward the entire time, I leave feeling lonely and empty.

Where would I sit today in that cafeteria knowing everything I know today? Would I sit with the person who looks the loneliest and saddest?

I often wonder how my boys are doing at school. Are they getting along with their teacher? Are they obeying? Are they grasping the concepts? Are they struggling? But mostly, I wonder… Are they getting along with the other kids? Is anyone being mean to them and are they being mean to anyone else?

I picture CF sitting there alone in that cafeteria full of her classmates when I think of my boys at school and I don’t want that for my boys in two ways. I don’t want them to be her all alone and I don’t want them to be me ignoring her.

What would make me beyond proud would be for my boys to be the one to look beyond the taboo that stained this awkward high-schooler and befriend her. I want my boys to be the ones to tell others ‘they are ignorant and cruel and that is a person just like you inside with fears and ambitions and a past and a future’ and simply be her companion even if just for 25 minutes a day.

I wish I had been that person to CF.

I publicly, humbly, and ashamedly apologize to CF. I have no idea what has become of her and I think still think of her often.

What about you? Any regrets on how you treated someone?

KEEP BELIEVING

The year is 1989. Angie is a senior in high school. Angie is sporting permed hair, electric blue eye shadow, and teased bangs. When she is not in her cheerleader uniform, she is wearing her Catholic high school skirt rolled up twice at the waist and writing IN INK all over the hemline things like: ‘We are proud and we are mighty. We’re the class of 1990’, or the Lyrics to "MORE THAN WORDS" and other Monster Ballads. When she is not wearing either uniform, she is donning her Units belt, over-sized shirt and leggings, or her Guess Jeans (the one pair she ever owned) and her sweaters made to fall off the shoulder. Angie is from the Midwest, so it could be that Angie’s fashion is JUST A TAD behind the times of other class of 1990 graduates.

Angie is feeling pretty cool these days. You see, Angie has a boyfriend. Not just any boyfriend. A COLLEGE boyfriend. This boyfriend, who we will name FRANK for the purposes of anonymity and because his real name is actually FRED (family name) and FRANK is very close anyway, is a JUNIOR in college. YES, A JUNIOR. Frank is also ANGIE’s brother’s fraternity brother and one of his BEST FRIENDS. In fact, FRANK becomes Kevin’s best man just a couple years later.

Angie (before mole removal) and best friend

Angie's cheerleading squad photo from that year with a wide angle lens required to incorporate ALL THAT HAIR into the frame. The man in the middle is their cheerleading moderator who simply got paid the extra stipend 'coaches' get on top of his meager private high school teaching salary while doing NOTHING to help or teach the squad. Sadly, he was probably as qualified as ANY of the teachers at Angie's high school to fill the slot.

Frank and his brother walk into the gym, smile at Angie and sit down. Within seconds, Angie sees Frank’s brother laughing while Frank uncomfortably squirms on the bleacher, and she thinks they are laughing at her cheering which is, in fact, laughable. Angie laughs, too, and begins to beam that her friends can finally see she was not making up Frank all these months.

Then, Angie sees a perky crimped-haired cheerleader from the ILLINOIS side of St. Louis team come over, hug Frank and point to someone just down the way. Did Angie mention that Tracy has a sister Angie’s age? Frank gets up, walks down the way and starts talking to someone who looks like they are old enough to be Frank’s parents. He sits there THE ENTIRE GAME AND TALKS TO THOSE PARENTS FOR THE REMAINDER OF THE GAME. He never once comes over, even during half time and acknowledges Angie. However, Frank’s brother does. In fact, Frank’s brother talks to Angie A LOT. Angie thinks he even puts his arm around Angie at one point in time and Angie is pretty sure if she would have looked, Frank’s brother ensures his arm is around Angie when those parent-aged people glance over at them. Angie is pretty sure we refer to that today as “taking one for the team.” Angie is too stupid love-struck by an older guy to see it, so much so, that it takes her about FIVE years to look back on that situation and figure it out.

After the crowd disperses and the opposing team leaves gym is practically empty, Frank finally acknowledges Angie who between sobs and screams tells Frank to GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE. NO WAIT, COME BACK HERE. EXPLAIN THIS TO ME. HOW COULD YOU DO THIS? I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN. I HATE YOU! WAIT, COME BACK, I LOVE YOU, while threatening to throw her Kelly-Green-striped K-Swiss cheerleader shoe at him. Frank smoothes over the situation trying unsuccessfully to run his fingers through her teased bangs and banana clipped hair telling her how much he loves her Add-A-Bead necklace.

However, about one week later, Frank officially breaks up with Angie. Why he didn’t break up with Angie about THREE MONTHS PRIOR will remain a mystery for the ages, since after all this, it is PRETTY DAMN OBVIOUS ANGIE IS NEVER GOING TO BREAK UP WITH HIM AND that he is CLEARLY IN LOVE WITH TRACY. However, Angie still thinks today, that part of Frank oddly still loved Angie a bit, too, and that is why he did not break it off completely until that night when he saw exactly how old Angie was.

AND because he probably didn’t want to get that close to being caught again by Tracy and her family.

Angie goes to Frank and Tracy’s college the next year. Tracy has graduated. She is a year and a half older than Frank who is 3 years older than Angie, making her blond, tall, beautiful, smart, employed and 4-1/2 years older than Angie. Angie forgives them both. However, she can never really look at Frank again that year. She does, however, join Tracy’s sorority, Chi Omega, because it is the best one for her on campus, and because Tracy doesn’t go there anymore.

Oddly enough, Frank was not a jerk. He was not a ‘bad boy.’ He was kind of nerdy, but tall, smart and cute. It’s probably safe to say that no one would have thought Frank had it in him to seriously date two girls at the same time. Frank and Tracy ended up marrying and having kids. As far as Angie knows, they are still happily married today. And Angie is happy for them.

The End.

KEEP BELIEVING