Friday, June 6, 2008

Scattered Dreams & Other Things... Part 2

Alright, so where was I? Oh. Right. Well, approximately 8 years ago I signed up with Classmates and finally began hooking up with friends that I hadn't heard from in years. I eventually decided that I would attend my high school reunion at Ursuline, which was 6 years ago. Once the decision was made & Mr. Snooty agreed, I began plotting my course. My plan was to drive up to the Missouri Ozarks by way of Texarkana, Arkansas, then Missouri. It took me 2 days but the drive was gorgeous that October. In West Texas, you often forget what a real Fall looks like.

I had a wonderful 3 day reunion, but I'll get to that another time. Upon leaving Arcadia, I decided to take a different route home so that I could swing through OKC. It was much longer than the way I'd driven up, so I didn't arrive in Oklahoma City until dark. I didn't have a reservation anywhere, so I just drove to the one place I knew the best. The Skirvin Hotel in downtown OKC. The Skirvin has always been a landmark hotel and it's elegant and I knew I'd be happy there.

I checked into the hotel and collapsed once I got to the room. However, I was able to make a list of the things I wanted to do the next day. Most people do this I think. Drive by my grandparents' old house, drive by some old familiar haunts, then drive downtown to see the Memorial and inspect whatever had been rebuilt. I was wanting to recapture some memories of the old days. So, I went to sleep with great anticipation for the next day's activities.

The first thing I did the next day was drive in the direction of my grandparents old house, close to downtown on 10th street. I was surprised to see that entire area had been turned into the historical district, but it all looked so much better than I remember. Apparently, a young couple had bought their old house and had totally renovated it. I was quite pleased with this development, so I moved on.

I drove by several of my old haunts, none of which were any longer there. No problem. I chalked it up to progress, deciding it was all good. So, I turned off 23rd street, getting on Robinson and headed toward downtown. I couldn't wait to see the old cleaners, which once stood @ 6th & Robinson, just off the corner. As I approached downtown, I started getting disoriented because nothing looked the same. After 30 years? Go figure. I wound up having to go around several blocks, several different times before I could pinpoint where I was. In the process of going around the blocks, I realized that the Memorial was less than a block away from the cleaners.

I realized that everything I'd thought before about the bombing, was all wrong. Back on Robinson and in front of the Memorial again, I screeched the car to a halt in the nearest parking place. I couldn't breathe. I had something in my stomach that wanted to come up and I wasn't sure that I could hold it off. It all hit me so hard & so fast, that I did not see it coming. I got out of the car & stumbled across the street to the Memorial, all the while turning in circles & trying to figure out what all was different. My grandparents' cleaners had been across the street, to the side of the Murrah Building that housed the FBI. It all had. All of it. All of those places & people I'd known as a child were gone. For 4-5 blocks in every direction. I had seen everything on TV but it had all looked so different that I had just not connected the dots. Until that moment. It was a devastating moment day for me.

I felt the Big Blow coming on but ignored it. I felt as if someone had socked me in the stomach really hard and it had knocked the wind out of me, because I was still having trouble breathing, only now it was because I'd started crying. No. I can't really call it crying, because it was more like weeping and cough-gulping all at once. I was clearly hysterical and there were people all around. Thankfully, no one stared. No one stared because people were used to seeing other people cry at the Memorial. It's a very common occurrence, therefore, I was ignored & left to my own grief.

I sat outside crying for at least two hours before I was able to muster up the nerve to enter the museum. I went in to use the restroom but when I came out, I just couldn't go through it. I went back outside to sit and stared at the infinity pool for a long time. Still crying. Still trying to figure out how I could have misjudged the distance from the cleaners. I ultimately realized that I had been remembering through a child's eyes. That's why I'd thought it was so much farther away.

After a time, the two Security Policemen I'd seen when I first arrived, came up to me & asked if I was okay. I replied a tearful yes, then kind of laughed at my blubbering. I was blowing my nose on the one ragged Kleenex I had left, so I was offered another, which I accepted. One of the men said that he only saw people who had lost someone stay as long I had, and I told him yes. I told him I'd lost my entire childhood. So, they sat down with me for a while & I tried to tell them my story in as few words as I possibly could. (I know, miracle, huh?)

When I finished, they were both crying with me. Then they took me over to the wall that lists every one's names that were killed. There, toward the bottom was my Uncle Bruce's name. Which started a whole new barrage of tears. I told them of the many other businesses that used to be there and they both said they'd just been talking about what the businesses were that had not been listed. People were listed. Not businesses. They also told me that that entire block (of the cleaners) had been levelled in the bombing. My uncle had been found in the rubble, 2 days after the bombing. Once upon a time my grandfather had owned all of that property in downtown... slowly selling it off over time.

I returned to the hotel when it was getting close to dark and called Mr. Snooty to bring him up to snuff on everything. I also told him I'd be staying a few more days and he said to take as long as I needed. I ended up staying an additional 5 days while I laid my ghosts to rest and visited the Memorial again 2 more times, but was never able to make myself go through the museum part.

Sometimes I wish I'd never gone back to OKC that year, but I also realize that it was final closure for me. Just like the previous stages in my life, I needed that closure. And time marches on, taking no prisoners.

15 comments:

Mental P Mama said...

Wow. What a post. So tragic. Even though I have no ties to that area, I will always remember the horror of that event.

Daryl said...

Oh (((Snooty))) ... I suspected something like this ... how awful no one in your family bothered to let you know your uncle had been killed ...

:-Daryl

elizasmom said...

Oh, this is so sad, Snooty. What a loss for you this was. You see these things on TV, but the scale of that horror is so outside normal experience that it's hard to grasp without such personal stories. Thank you for sharing yours with us, and I am so sorry.

Mamahut said...

"Sniff" I'm sorry Snooty.

Krysta said...

Snooty, I'm sending you hugs and good thoughts with lots of love.

scargosun said...

I can't even imagine what that must have been like to go through. I am glad there were 2 nice people you could tell your story to though. Fate?

Donnetta Lee said...

Yes, Snooty. I know the feeling. Everyone in the OKC area, possibly in Oklahoma, had a story related to the bombing. Everybody lost something or someone or both on that day. I lost a feeling of security that I'll never get back. I had friends who lost relatives and friends. My hubby is a psychologist who offered counseling services during some of those times. The stories were mind boggling. We are all connected, afterall. And as to "coming home," they say you can't really do it. I was in Florida for 4 years and then returned to OKC out of homesickness. Oh, I am so so happy to be here, but the changes to the metro-area, just in that time, are huge. Friends are scattered to the winds. Nothing is the same--or little is the same. But, the feeling of being where I belong, is overwhelming. I appreciated the story.
Donnetta

noble pig said...

This is just an amazing story. Wow, I can't imagine the pain and helplessness you felt. I'm glad you found closure and still have your wonderful memories.

Big hugs out to you! A great post.

imbeingheldhostage said...

Oh snooty.. I am ashamed to say, that the bombing never really sunk in for me-- it was on the news, everywhere, but it was so surreal--because we all saw the after pictures and not the faces or buildings that were there before. You made this very real for me. What a tragic, tragic loss. Thank you for sharing this experience.

Peggy said...

I'm sure it was a real shock to actually see the area in person and be surrounded by the changes. It's good that you can write about it now.

insane mama said...

yea, what scargosum said,at least the two nice people talked to you and explained it all. This is why I like blogs, for me to sit here in tears and shock... and to barely know you. I can understand and actually "see" the scene in my head. Thank you for sharing

Flea said...

Oh Snooty, I'm so sorry. I'm so glad you had some closure, that you were able to stay and take the time to really grieve. But not to know for so long. I'm so sorry.

Snooty Primadona said...

Hey, listen. I never intended to ellicit so many sympathies. As I said in the first post, Uncle Bruce was my grandfather's son by his first marriage. We were never accepted by that part of the family since my grandmother was his second wife. Still, I knew him and it was a shock to find out that way. Our family is so scattered & dysfunctional it would be quite some task to contact everyone when someone dies. Especially in that type of sitiuation. Jeeze! Sometimes it's just too hard to explain anything involving my crazy family. Think I'll lighten things up for a bit. Do I hear a second?

Pam said...

Snooty, your writings are amazing and I appreciate your willingness to bare your soul. God bless you, and keep blogging, please.

brneyedgal967 said...

I love the way you described the big blow, your mind reeling. God, that was a dead on description of how something like that feels.

I remember that day VIVIDLY. It was a horrible, horrible day, week, month for OKC and I still haven't been able to go into the museum. I've visited the memorial many times, it's beautiful... but the museum ... just still too painful.

Ii feel for you.

 

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