Thurs., Nov. 25, 1999 - Thanksgiving
It's been almost two weeks. I've not been able to write of that night. I don't think that I ever shall. Why write of something you will never forget, something that you wish you could forget? It's pointless. I'll revisit it every day of my life. I'll always remember the smell of the smoke, the smell of him, Nick's strong, comforting arms, the sound of the explosion as it died away to silence, broken only by the clanging of that damn buoy - and the absolute certainty of what both meant.
Grandma Rose once told me that you were richer than a sharecropper with indoor plumbing if, other than your folks and your youngins, you could count on more than one hand the number of people who have truly influenced your life. I have had Grandma Rose herself, who showed me love and taught me the value of the soul. Then there was Miss Blanchfort, my 5th grade teacher, who showed me how much fun it could be to learn, that education and knowledge could make the mind soar. Finally, there was Derek, who I think will fill my quota forever. He taught me everything else I will ever need to know, and he taught me by example. He taught me dignity and the meaning of honor; duty and self-sacrifice; perseverence in the face of anguish and certain defeat; loyalty to friends and loyalty to a cause greater than yourself; and courage in the face of terror, despair, and overwhelming odds. He taught me all of this with a generosity of which he was totally unaware. I have an emptiness now that will never be filled.
I feared that Thanksgiving would be unbearable, but we all got through it, sort of. Rachel and I went over to the island early this morning to try to get Nick to come to dinner. He wouldn't come, not even for Kat. He's hurting and he's angry. He said that he was going to take advantage of the holiday to take in the "sights" with Francis. The island was going to be left with a skeleton crew, while all the Legacy honchos, and what civil authorities are still involved, are off enjoying Turkey Day. So, he planned to call Francis and see if she'd go over today to take a "private" look at what's left. Somewhere, in his heart, he still has hope, I think. He says he doesn't trust anyone else. He won't say much more - just that he thinks that the Legacy's inner circle knew that Derek was playing his own game, with their blessing, and that they intend for him to take the fall. If they do that, then I'm resigning, but Nick says he'll stay, become one of the inner circle itself, to discover the truth and clear Derek's name. He said he'd pull down London House itself.
I managed to force myself to walk back to where we were when the house exploded. I went alone. I don't know how I made it that far. My knees were weak - shaking. I tried to reach out with my "Sight" to get some sense of Derek. Nothing. It's as though he never existed on that island. Just more emptiness.
Later, I made a fool of myself. Since dinner was a non-starter, Rachel thought it might be a good idea to go help out at the Salvation Army place in the Tenderloin. She thought it would divert Kat and get all our minds off the dinner that should have been. It was a good plan. I was fine, until a long-forgotten memory surfaced.
Before Nick came, when it was me, Julia, Philip, and Derek, we did the same thing one Christmas. We all had made plans to go out of town, but the airport was totally fogged in for 3 days. All air traffic was thrown into chaos, so we ended up staying home and feeling sorry for ourselves. The staff had all been given the week off. There was scarcely a thing in the house to eat. Suddenly, Derek said, "Why are we all moping around here? Luna gave a considerable contribution to the Salvation Army's Christmas Dinner. We could give of ourselves as well. Let's go!" So off we went. It was one of the best Christmases I've ever had. We gave of our time and our love in that very building. I had totally forgotten. But as I was clearing some of the tables, deja-vu kicked in. I felt Derek's presence as strongly as if he had been right there beside me. I burst into tears. I couldn't help it and I couldn't stop. We had to leave. How odd that a memory could produce that sensation in the midst of all those people in that noisy, bustling place, yet I could gain no sense of him at all in the quiet, desolate place that had been Derek - the place where he was born, lived, and died. The mind is truly amazing that it can make a memory so real. I should be glad. It's all I have now --- memories.
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