1997
Jillian’s Journal
January 1, 1997
The nineties are speeding by so quickly. It seems I barely turned the calendar page to a new year and three more have slipped through my fingers. They’ve been eventful years, though, dealing with retirement, helping Leni Jo prepare for college, then losing Mom.
I still miss my mother. Her death caught both Leni Jo and me by surprise. It’s almost two years since she died peacefully in her sleep. Leni Jo took it particularly hard. Mom’s mental and physical health had started to deteriorate rapidly after her 80th birthday. I knew how desperately she wanted to remain in her own home; the decision to place her in a retirement center hung over my head and I’d delayed making it as long as possible. Even with her diminished capacity, Mom was well aware of her surroundings, and I simply couldn’t take her away from everything that was familiar and comfortable to her. Not until there was no longer any choice did I move her to a nursing home. As it turned out, that was very near the end. I can’t say her death was a blessing, but as always my mother’s timing was impeccable. I miss her so very much.
Leni Jo loves Radcliffe. It’s her first year away from home and I worry about her, but my daughter is certainly capable of forging her own path. She’s let me know she isn’t interested in practicing law, which doesn’t hurt my feelings. She’s talented and artistic—and has no idea what she wants to be or do with her life. At eighteen, she has plenty of time to figure it out.
I’m grateful we’re so close. We talk either by phone or email practically every day. I’m in frequent touch with Lesley, too. It almost feels as if we’re back in high school, passing notes back and forth during class.
Gary Harmon and I continue to date, but not seriously. He’d like to make the relationship permanent but I’m not interested in remarrying, which has been a disappointment to him. I’m glad we can be honest with each other. Last year he explained that he didn’t intend to live the rest of his life alone and then in June he started seeing another woman. To be honest, I was unsettled for a while but accepted that I was about to lose my dearest male friend. Apparently, the relationship didn’t work out, and Gary and I are back together. We enjoy the same things, travel occasionally and are good companions. However, despite his preferences, this isn’t a romantic relationship. Perhaps one day that’ll change; I can’t say for sure.
For now, I’m in a good place, emotionally and physically. With the Dow Jones heading toward 7000, the investments Monty made for me have grown substantially. The ones I made for myself have done equally well. Whether credit should go to the Democrats or the Republicans is hard to judge. Dad, I know you have strong opinions on the subject, but I’m not up to arguing the point. Not on such a glorious day, the first of a new year.
If I were looking for an omen, I’d point to Hale-Bopp, which has proven to be a truly majestic comet visible to the naked eye. I was excited about the return of Haley’s Comet back in 1991. All that news coverage and then what a disappointment. But Hale-Bopp is supposed to be incredible, and since it won’t return until the year 4397, this is truly a once-in-a-lifetime event!
Lesley and Steven have been married nearly two years, and I can’t recall any time in her life that she’s been happier. I love Steven myself for being so wonderful to my dearest friend. They enjoy traveling and are constantly going here and there, especially now that he’s taken on a partner and reduced his hours. No one seeing them together for the first time would guess that they’re practically newlyweds. They know each other so well, it’s as though they’d been married their entire lives.
Lesley took up golf and to her husband’s delight, shows a real knack for it. Steven has been the father to her children that Buck was never capable of being. The boys idolize him, and he’s managed to gain Lindy’s respect simply because of the way he loves Lesley. At first I thought there might be a problem with his own daughters, but both have accepted Lesley and despite a few rough spots after they first started dating, everything’s worked out on both sides.
Steven hopes to retire completely in the year 2000, and he and Lesley plan to spend a month in Central America treating the sick. They’re going as part of a volunteer group, and I applaud their compassion and generosity. My own involvement will, however, be limited to a financial contribution.
David and Meagan are parents two times over, and Doug is married, too. I briefly met his wife at their wedding last October. Lesley thinks the world of Julie.
Thankfully, Lindy’s had a turnaround. I don’t know exactly what happened, but almost overnight, she went from being a rebellious, self-centered thorn in her mother’s side to a responsible, well-adjusted adult. She’s seriously dating a man any mother would love and, after much soul-searching, dropped out of school and accepted a position as a bookkeeper at Microsoft. David recommended her for the job but she was hired and promoted on her own merit.
Christopher surprised everyone and became a teacher. He’s working with Junior High kids who absolutely love him.
Our children are all settled and doing well. These have been the best years of Lesley’s life. Mine, too, in some ways.
THIS DAY I WILL MARRY MY BEST FRIEND,
THE ONE I LAUGH WITH, LIVE FOR AND DREAM WITH.
WE INVITE YOU TO BE WITH US AS WE BEGIN OUR LIVES
TOGETHER.
LINDY KNOWLES
AND
JORDAN KEVIN PARKER
JUNE 7, 1997
2 P.M.
HIGHLINE CHRISTIAN CHURCH
2189 33RD AVENUE SOUTHEAST
PINE RIDGE, WASHINGTON
RECEPTION IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING
RSVP
Lindy Knowles
February 10, 1997
Dear Dad,
I’m sending this to the last address I have for you, and that’s care of your parole officer in Texas. No one’s heard from you in a long time, two years at least. I want you to know I’m getting married in June to a truly wonderful man. We met last year, here at Microsoft, and started dating in September. I knew Jordan was the man I wanted to marry almost right away. Oh, Daddy, I’m so in love with him.
I took my time deciding on marriage, didn’t I? Jordan’s thirty-one, and has never been married, either. The funny part is I probably wouldn’t have given him a second look a few years back. He’s everything I was sure I didn’t want. Successful, sane and sober!
Three years ago, I was dating losers. I attracted men more interested in drugs and alcohol than in me. Men I thought I could save from themselves. It wasn’t until after I found out I was pregnant and had an abortion that I realized it wasn’t them I was trying to save. I wanted to save you. I so wanted my father back that I was seeking out men just like you to redeem. Thankfully I woke up before I ruined my life.
I know this sounds critical of you. I don’t mean to come across as harsh or judgmental. That’s not my intention. The entire reason for this letter is to invite you to Jordan’s and my wedding. I’d really like you to be there, Dad, and I’m giving you plenty of time to figure out a way to arrange it. If you need me to send you the money, then I’ll do it. This is going to be a very important day for me, and I want you to witness the fact that I’ve grown up and chosen my life partner well. I’m eager for you to meet Jordan and get to know him.
As far as I am concerned, none of the past matters anymore. You’ve made mistakes and so have I. Everyone’s always told me that I’m the Knowles kid most like you. Well, I want to show you that I’m capable of living a good life. If you see how happy I am, then maybe you can find that same serenity yourself. Here I go again, trying to save you, but that’s all right because I took care of myself first this time.
I love you despite your problems and your weaknesses. Please let me hear from you either way. It would be good just to know you’re all right.
Lindy
East Side Imaging
30 East 60th Street
New York, NY 10021
February 17, 1997
Dear Mrs. Jillian Gordon,
Dr. Wilson has had the opportunity to review the X-ray from your mammogram. We request that you make an appointment with your gynecologist at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
Ruth Carey, R.N.
Jillian Gordon
From: Leni Jo Gordon
To: Jillian Gordon
Sent: February 27, 1997
Subject: I’m Coming Home
Mom,
What do you mean, it looks like you need surgery? You can’t just drop something like that on me!
This has to do with that lump in your breast, doesn’t it? The one they found on your mammogram. I don’t care what you say, I’m coming home for the surgery. Have you told Aunt Lesley yet? Let me know the day, and I’ll make the arrangements immediately.
Oh, and Mom, I know now probably isn’t the time to mention this, but I’ve met someone totally awesome. I’ll give you more details later.
Love ya,
Leni Jo
Jillian’s Journal
March 20, 1997
The hospital released me this morning and it feels wonderful to be back in my own home. I’m very weak, and both Lesley and Leni Jo seemed to sense it. They put me to bed, ordering me to take a nap. Actually, I’m grateful and I relish these moments alone so I can record what happened while it’s still fresh in my mind.
The surgery, which is so common among women, should have been routine. But for whatever reason, there were complications with the anaesthetic. In fact, Dr. Wilson, the surgeon, told Leni Jo and Lesley that I nearly died on the operating table. I think I must have, because I had the most incredible, lifelike dream.
The last thing I remember was looking at the anesthesiologist. She smiled at me and said calmly that everything would be over before I knew it. I closed my eyes—and that was when Nick came to me. I was so astonished to see him that I didn’t know what to think. It was as though I was eighteen years old again. And Nick, with that cocky, sexy grin of his, looked just as he did thirty-one years ago. He took my hand and all the feelings I had when we first met came back, flooding me with a surge of unadulterated joy. Then he sat down, my hand in his, and started talking.
It was as if he’d been with me all these years. He talked to me about Monty, about the child I miscarried, about Leni Jo and her future. He told me he was pleased I’d made my peace with God. He reminded me that he had, too, in the worst of Vietnam.
I kept telling him this couldn’t be happening. His response to that was a soft laugh. Then he raised my hand to his lips and kissed it. He told me he’d been waiting for me all this time, but that he was content to wait a while longer.
I’ve tried to remember as much of our conversation as I can, but I’ve already lost part of it. What I do recall is that Nick reminded me how much he loves me, even now. He’s been dead nearly twenty-nine years and he loves me as much as he did when we were teenagers. What’s so astounding, he said, is that the power of love is stronger than any force known to man. Stronger than anyone has ever imagined. Love is strong enough to stretch from one world to the next, through all of time and through eternity. Stronger than life and stronger than death.
Nick assured me that when it was my turn to join him, he’d be waiting for me, along with my parents and Monty, and his dad, too. After that, he said he had to go. I protested and pleaded with him to stay, but he shook his head and told me not yet. Then he was gone.
The next thing I remember, I was awake in the recovery room. Later, after I’d been moved to my room, I asked to speak to the anesthesiologist. When she arrived, I questioned her about people reporting lifelike dreams during surgery. She assured me it was a common thing and not to give it a second thought.
I can’t do that. I refuse to dismiss this so lightly. That time with Nick was as real as...as my daughter and my best friend on the other side of this bedroom door. As real as my love for Nick.
I want to believe it was real. I’ve held the memory of that time close to my heart ever since the surgery, letting his words warm my spirit, and encourage me. Far-fetched as this sounds, all my fears about death have faded away to nothing. Death no longer holds any dread for me.
Discovering I had cancer shook me. For Leni Jo’s sake, I tried to hide how frightened I’ve been. I wasn’t afraid for myself as much as her; I can’t bear the thought of leaving my only child an orphan at eighteen. She still needs me!
I’m tired now. This is only part of the ordeal in confronting the cancer. Next I have chemotherapy and radiation treatments. I’m prepared to lose my hair and my dignity. They seem minor compared to the loss of my breast...and the possible loss of my life. It helps that I’m surrounded by those who love me—in this world and the next.
Steven Milton
From: Lesley Milton
To: Steven Milton
Sent: March 23, 1997
Subject: Update on Jillian
My dearest Steven,
I thought I’d check in before I go to bed.
Jillian is doing well. Her chemotherapy starts almost immediately, and she assures me she’s ready. She’s been so calm through all this, so serene and peaceful. Her friend Gary has been wonderful and is completely devoted to her. It’s obvious that he loves her. I know he’d like to marry her, but he didn’t bring up the subject and neither did I. I was worried about her getting to and from the hospital for her treatments, but Gary plans to provide the transportation and stay with her. That’s a great relief to both Leni Jo and me. Leni Jo heads back to school at the end of next week.
I’m grateful to have had this time with Jillian. We came so close to losing her during the surgery. I don’t think she knows how very close it was.
I know you’re curious and a bit uncomfortable about my seeing Cole, so I want to reassure you on that score, too.
Cole and I did have dinner and it was good to see him again. He looks well and happy. He’s retiring June first, but I’ll believe it when I see it. He’s too much of a workaholic. As we chatted over a glass of wine, I realized we don’t have much in common. We never really did. Part of what I saw in him—what attracted me most—was his insight into world events. I encouraged him, when he retires, to write about Vietnam and the changes since then. I told him he could be the Stephen Ambrose of our generation. He thanked me for that, and said it wasn’t the first time he’d thought of becoming a writer. I hope he does.
One benefit of my stay is that I found the most beautiful pearl necklace for Lindy’s wedding. What a thoughtful husband you are to think of such a lovely gift for my daughter on her wedding day.
I’ll be home soon, my love. I miss you so much.
Lesley
March 30, 1997
Dearest Aunt Jillian,
I hope you’re home from the hospital and feeling better now. Will you still be visiting Pine Ridge for your friend’s daughter’s wedding in June? I hope so. It would be cool to see you again. It’s always good to see you.
I’m taking driver’s education and should have my license by then, so if you need a ride anywhere just say the word. I’d love to be your chauffeur.
Your Niece,
Nickie Lynn Murphy
P.S. Mom and Dad send their love.
Peter Punch
Texas Parole Board
2190 Turtle Creek Road
Fort Worth, Texas 76105
April 5, 1997
Dear Lindy Knowles,
I’m writing in response to your query concerning the whereabouts of your father, David “Buck” Knowles. My last contact with him was in April 1996.
I regret to inform you that he died in a homeless shelter in November of last year. He was cremated by the city of Fort Worth.
Sincerely,
Peter Punch
Lesley Milton
From: Jillian Gordon
To: Lesley Milton
Sent: April 25, 1997
Subject: Re: Buck
Dearest Lesley,
I’m sorry to hear the news about Buck, but as you said, it’s not really a shock. What a terrible way for Lindy to find out about her father’s death. The boys might have reacted with more nonchalance, but I agree with you, it’s bound to have an impact on them.
What about you, Lesley? You must’ve felt something, too. You were married to Buck for a lot of years and he is the father of your children. If you need to talk this out, give me a call.
Have you been watching the news from Grand Forks, ND? Those poor people! The town was half-underwater and everything that wasn’t submerged was on fire. I happened to catch the CNN newscast, and you’ll never guess who was reporting. Didn’t you say Cole was retiring this year? Well, it appears he decided to hold off for a while. Same as you, I’ll believe he’s retired when I see it.
I’m feeling much better, thank you. Tell Lindy I wouldn’t miss her wedding for the world. I sure as hell am not going to let a little thing like cancer keep me away!
I haven’t met Leni Jo’s male friend yet. Leave it to my levelheaded daughter to fall in love with an unemployed musician. I’m getting a taste of what my parents must have thought when I announced that I was in love with Nick and wanted to marry him. Nick, however, was employed! Paul Robbins isn’t. I’ll give you more details about this Bob Dylan wannabe when I hear them. I suppose it could be worse.
Love,
Jillian
Lesley’s Journal
June 6, 1997
In a few hours, Steven will escort my daughter down the church aisle and Lindy will marry a good and wonderful man. I couldn’t have found anyone better suited for her had I launched my own search! It’s so clear to me that God’s hand is on her and on this marriage.
Despite my certainty and happiness about the wedding, I’m a mass of nerves. I suppose every mother of the bride feels that way.
Lindy’s wedding, the conviction of Timothy McVeigh for the horrible bombing in Oklahoma City a couple of years ago and the news of Buck’s death are all keeping me awake. In light of all the bad news in this world, my ex-husband’s death seems insignificant. Buck and I had been divorced more years than we were ever married, yet the news of his death hit me hard. It’s understandable, I suppose. I loved Buck at one time, and he fathered all four of my children.
How I wish his life could have been different. I wanted better for him. Even after all the heartache and grief he brought me, I still had some feelings for Buck. I didn’t believe it until Jillian asked me how I was taking the news. As I read her email, the tears started to drip down my face. Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop for the longest time.
What upset me so badly, I think, is that Buck had completely disassociated himself from the children and me. We didn’t even know when he died. There was nothing on his person, nothing he carried with him, to link him to us. The letter stated that he lived in a homeless shelter. I find that difficult to accept.
The father of my children had sunk so low that he could no longer function in society. All I can say is I hope he found peace in death, because it was sadly missing from his life.
The boys accepted the news without any open display of emotion. Christopher was so young when we divorced that he barely remembers Buck. David and Doug and Lindy remember him, though. All her life Lindy’s made excuses for her father. All her life she defended him to her brothers and me.
When she brought me the letter from Buck’s parole officer, her face was expressionless, as if she’d always known it would come to this, in spite of her hope that his life could be salvaged. I’m grateful Jordan was with her when she opened the envelope. She’s going to be all right, I think, and so am I.
Within a few hours, my daughter will be Jordan’s wife. Steven will fill in as her father. She was the one who made the request that he walk her down the aisle. I know that meant a great deal to him. For a long time, Lindy made it abundantly clear that she never wanted me to remarry. She still held out hope that Buck and I would reconcile. My little girl has done a lot of growing up in the past few years, and I’m very, very proud of her.
As a matter of interest, Cole Greenberg reported the news of the Timothy McVeigh trial. I don’t think he’ll ever retire. He’s just not the type. I did notice something interesting, however. He’s no longer with CNN. I saw him on the Fox News Channel. I wonder what that’s all about.
Paul Robbins
From: Leni Jo Gordon
To: Paul Robbins
Sent: June 8, 1997
Subject: Lindy’s Wedding
Dearest Paul,
The wedding was so romantic. Lindy was a beautiful bride. My mom had tears in her eyes when Lindy walked down the aisle.
I can only imagine Mom’s reaction when she hears about you and me. No, I haven’t told her that we plan to get married next year. Not yet. It’d freak her out.
This being apart is awful. I miss you, too, and I promise to email you every day I’m in Washington State.
Love,
Leni Jo
September 15, 1997
Dear Mom and Steven,
Julie and I want to invite you to dinner next week if you’re available. We have a surprise for you both. Mom, it’s time to bring out those knitting needles again. I hope you’re planning on being around in February.
Love,
Doug and Julie
Jillian’s Journal
November 20, 1997
Dearest Nick,
It’s been years since I last wrote you. I gave it up shortly after Monty died, but since my surgery and the dream, I feel closer to you than ever. Each night as I settle my head on the pillow and close my eyes, it’s almost as if you’re there with me. My mind is filled with thoughts of you. The dream keeps playing back in my mind: what you said, what you implied, what you promised. I’ve held on to as much of it as I could.
I used to be so impatient. That’s been an unexpected benefit of having cancer—I’ve developed a whole new perspective on the meaning of time. Things that seemed terribly important a year ago have faded in significance—and vice versa. I’ve learned that small things matter—the moment of laughter, the beauty of autumn leaves, the sensation of wind on my face. You know what I mean, don’t you?
I think a lot of people have felt that way since Princess Diana died. The news of her death touched everyone. There’s been an almost unprecedented outpouring of grief, worldwide. It seems as though people needed that collective release of emotion, as though this was more than a response to one individual death.
The world is vastly different from the one you left behind. Everything happens at the speed of light. The internet is capable of far more than relaying messages. People are online for every conceivable reason. There’s even this site where people can auction items and you wouldn’t believe what’s being sold. War medals (which bothers me and would no doubt upset you, as well), Elvis albums, even Texaco signs from the 50s.
This year a sheep was cloned and just yesterday a 29-year-old woman gave birth to seven children. Our lives are being affected every day by scientific and technological change, and that is ever constant. Still, the one thing that remains steadfast through everything is love. That’s the message you gave me, isn’t it?
Leni Jo is head over heels in love and I’m biting my tongue to keep from saying things I shouldn’t. I wanted someone a little more sensible, more stable, than this musician. Paul is very sweet and talented, but he isn’t exactly brimming with ambition.
Just tonight, Leni Jo phoned to tell me they want to get married. I tried to remain calm, but I’m not sure how successful I was. Thankfully, she promised not to do anything until we’ve had a chance to talk. I’d be a whole lot more comfortable if Paul had a job!
Then I think about the two of us and how impossible we thought my parents were when we announced our feelings for each other. I told my dad in no uncertain terms how badly I wanted to marry you. Now history’s repeating itself (well, sort of) in my daughter. Amazing, isn’t it, how I’ve been given the opportunity to view this situation from the perspective of a parent? I wonder who said God didn’t have a sense of humor.