Can't Forgive

by Kim Goldman

  His office is modest, in an old building in Westwood. Beautiful artwork (some his own talented imagery) covers the walls, and an L-shaped couch lines the room. I always assume the same spot—corner seat, directly facing his almond-colored swivel chair.

  Joel met me at one of my darkest hours, and since then has been a healthy constant in my life. He calls me on my shit. He helps me weed through all of the junk, and trusts that I am more than capable of handling anything that comes my way.

  I am totally comfortable with him and never worry about being criticized or judged. He doesn’t try to fix me, doesn’t sugarcoat anything, and empowers me to make decisions.

  Joel’s biggest gift is normalizing my life. He connects me with my experiences in a way that is powerful rather than polarizing.

  It always makes me chuckle when he rattles off significant things in my life. He puts his clenched fist in the air and then, one by one, lifts a finger to account for my drama. He shakes his head in disbelief.

  “How are you still standing, Kim? How come I am not prescribing antidepressants?” he asks with a slight smile.

  When he does that, it forces me to pause.

  I can honestly look at my experiences and can now determine what I learned from each.

  I have always been a believer in “no regrets.” I wouldn’t change anything that has happened in my life—with the exception of my brother’s death.

  I would give up everything to have him back, but since I know I can’t, I push through that, too.

  I deeply believe that the obstacles in my life—good or bad—have molded me into the woman I am today.

  I feel strongly that each experience lent itself to the next and enabled me to survive and move forward.

  Not move on—but forward.

  This is work every day. There is no right or wrong time line to the process. We are all on our own path to healing.

  * * *

  Each morning, when the clock goes off, I take a few seconds to just sit with my thoughts. As you have come to learn, it’s not unusual for me to have serious bouts of insomnia (which typically means I was pissed the night before, because I couldn’t relax and free my mind of racing thoughts, so chances are I fell asleep annoyed). So I like to just chill before I face my day and realign my mood.

  A few deep breaths, a good stretch, and a slow glance around my room remind me to appreciate the life I have created for my son and me.

  I take tremendous pride in my home. I smile every time I drive into my garage, but especially when I hear the laughter of my son bouncing off the high ceilings.

  I try and take stock of how hard I have worked to give him a life of consistency and security, all by myself.

  I take that with me as I begin to face another day of paying bills, carpooling, some kind of sporting activity, work, networking, writing, cooking—balancing.

  Every day is a new day, with new opportunities, new goals, new challenges, new joy.

  New hopes. A new normal.

  And with that, I rise.

  * * *

  The best motivation for me is Sam. He is my legacy. He is the one place in my life where I am confident, where I kick ass.

  I am diligently working to maintain that sense of accomplishment in other areas, but with him, despite all of my earlier concerns and self-doubts, I am a good mother.

  Hopefully, I instill in him a deep sense of self, morality, sensitivity, confidence, humor, warmth, and balance.

  My heart lights up when I look at my son, even when he is pulling on my last nerve. He shows determination, passion, and patience. He is sarcastic, witty, playful, innocent, and painfully shy, but the biggest goofball when he feels safe.

  He is a deep thinker; he is insightful; he is protective.

  I am so grateful for him.

  Despite the lack of mothering I received from my birth mother, Sharon, the benefit of her leaving was that she left me with a determination that I would never let my children feel neglected or rejected.

  I will never allow my child to feel unworthy of my every sacrifice, every compromise, every contraction, every ounce of worry, or every gray hair.

  She taught me the power of being a mother. She reminded me that it’s a choice, and the heaviness of that choice was obviously too much for her to bear. But for me it’s a gift I take such tremendous joy in. When Sharon left my life, she certainly left a lot of damage, but what that has done for me in my relationship with Sam is make me work that much harder to give him the life that he deserves.

  I owe it to him to show up every day, with my game face on, ready to play.

  I am giving him all the love I received from my father and my brother, and all the love I wished I had received from a mother.

  It’s important to me to make sure that I do things with Sam that will leave lasting impressions. I like to get him out of the house, out of our neighborhood, and into the real world, so he can see what life has to offer.

  So I brought him to Hollywood.

  * * *

  One weekend during the summer of 2011, between second and third grade, I decided on a whim to buy tickets for Shrek, The Musical at the famous Pantages Theatre. I told Sam the day before that I was taking him somewhere. He could try and guess if he wanted, but I doubted he’d figure it out.

  He guessed lots of things. He was only seven years old at the time, but apparently he has a longer bucket list than I do!

  To every one of his possibilities, I said, “Nope! Keep guessing.”

  After a while, he gave up. He decided he wanted to be surprised.

  “Don’t tell me any more. Don’t even tell me until we are standing right in front of whatever it is. I’ll keep my eyes closed until then.”

  Man, he’s got some willpower!

  “Deal. I won’t say a word. Can’t wait for MST (Mommy/Son Time).”

  The next day, I could tell there was an extra pep in his step. He laid out his outfit on his bed for later and told me not to look in his room.

  I guess he wanted his own surprise.

  I overheard him telling my very good friend Jackie MacDougall’s kids, Coby and Brady, that he had a big surprise waiting for him later that day and that he was really excited.

  I love listening to innocent and unprompted conversations between little people. It is so cute.

  He told them he would report back after and let them know what it was. “Okay, Sam!” they replied in unison.

  After I picked up Sam from camp, we raced home to change into our outfits.

  Sam came bouncing into my room.

  “Ta-da!”

  He stood before me, grinning ear to ear, with his spiked hair perfectly coifed, wearing holey gray skinny jeans and a black Tony Hawk skateboard T-shirt.

  Wow, he was a good-looking, stylish young man.

  This was one of those moments that had “Uncle Ron” written all over it. So many times I’ll catch a look or notice a mannerism that reminds me of my brother, and this was one of them.

  I smiled at him, expressing my gratitude for him changing all on his own.

  “You look way cool, son. I dig what you’re wearing.”

  Two thumbs-up, and off he went.

  We hopped in the car and headed toward Hollywood. I had planned to take Sam to a cool burger joint first, which was just blocks away from the theater. We parked the car on the street, plugged the meter with two dollars’ worth of quarters, and headed north on Vine.

  Sam looked totally in his element. A natural confidence exuded from him as he waltzed toward the restaurant in his Skechers and skinny jeans.

  He didn’t gawk at the pierced and tattooed couple we walked by, nor did he ask a barrage of rude questions about the homeless man asking for food for his dog.

  Instead, he noticed the architecture of the buildings we walked beside and wondered where the Hollywood sign was, reminding me that he had been there once before on a field trip.

  We grabbed a booth at GO Burger. Sam ordered Blue Cheese Sliders and a root be
er, and then became fixated on the BMX games featured on the TV behind my head. He didn’t want to chat much, but he invited me to sit next to him so I could watch the cool tricks as well.

  We sat side by side as we enjoyed our food, oohing and aahing after each bite.

  It was just about thirty minutes until the show started. I urged Sam to finish up so we wouldn’t have to rush to get to “the place.” He obliged. We paid the check and left.

  Sam reminded me not to let him see where we were going until we were right there.

  “Can I look now, Mom?”

  “Nope, not yet. Keep looking to the right.”

  “Okay, how about now? My eyes hurt from closing them so tight.”

  “Sam, don’t squeeze so hard. Just gently shut them or just keep looking to the right.”

  “Okay, so I am just going to look straight up and you can guide me, so I don’t hit anything.”

  I was starting to get nervous that the buildup was going to be so huge that the actual surprise would disappoint him greatly.

  As we walked through the parking lot before crossing the street to the theater, a few scantily clad young women entered our sight line. Between the short-shorts, the “barely there” tops, and the thong bikinis, there was lots of skin. My son was very distracted.

  Yep, Uncle Ron written all over him.

  Once I could persuade him to walk with me the other way, we were just a few steps away from the entrance of the theater. As we approached the line of people, Sam finally saw the gigantic Shrek billboard. He stopped.

  “Whoa. Is that what we are doing? That is really cool.”

  I was lost in the pure joy all over his face as he soaked up the moment, when I was startled out of my gaze by a sudden surge of emotion.

  There it is, right in front of me, blocking my way.

  A brightly-colored sandwich board sits in front of a neighborhood business: Crime Scene Tours, featuring the face of my brother’s killer and a countless list of other high-profile murders. I blink a few times to make sure that what I am seeing is accurate; then suddenly I feel a tug on my hand.

  “Come on, Mom, the line is moving. What are you looking at?”

  “Nothing, son. Nothing.”

  I walk away, but something possesses me to go back and grab a brochure.

  So I turn around and pick one up off the counter.

  “Mom, what are you doing? What is this place?”

  “Um, it’s a place. Um, it’s just a business that…It’s a…I don’t want to talk about it right now, Sam,” I snapped back at his innocently asked question. “Let’s just go. Come on.”

  I shove the brochure to the bottom of my bag, but the emotion is up in my throat. I flip the switch in my brain to “off,” as I often do, to snap out of it. I don’t want to ruin MST at the Pantages because of that ugliness. I am really looking forward to getting lost in a bit of fantasy and bonding with my son, and I am struggling to get the murderer out of the way so I can enjoy my night.

  Usually it doesn’t take that long for me to move forward, but I get stuck a little longer this time.

  I am nervous that Sam won’t let the moment go.

  He is getting bolder with his questions and curiosity regarding Ron’s death. He knows everything: where Ron died, how he died, how many times he was stabbed, where he was stabbed, that the bad man is in jail for stealing, but never got in trouble for hurting Uncle Ron.

  He knows Ron is a hero and knows that people in the country care about our family, but he’s never asked me who the bad man is. And I’ve never thought it was important to tell him.

  Will society force me to say his name before either of us is ready?

  I hope to have the right words when the time comes for him to know more.

  And I hope I am able to recognize when that right time is.

  I don’t know the answer, so for now, I will put those worries aside.

  I sit back with my son, whom I love with all my soul, and just focus on the big green ogre that is romping in front of me.

  If that isn’t irony, I don’t know what is.

  Acknowledgments

  Everyone always says that the acknowledgments are the best part of the book because you get to highlight special relationships and express your deepest appreciation for the people in your life. Well, yes...all of that is true...but my goodness, the pressure of making sure everyone gets their proper due and the worry that I might leave someone of...eeeks! With that being said, and in the spirit of keeping this section shorter than my memoir, I obviously can’t list every single person in my life who has made a difference. So, if we tweet, facebook, text, e-mail, or casually bump into each other on the street: Thank you for being a part of my world and making my life a little more sweet than bitter.

  An extra special something for...

  My family:

  Dad, how do I sum up the feelings I have toward you in just a few words? Truth is I can’t. Saying “I love you” doesn’t seem to be enough, so all I can do is hope that I have lived my life in a way that honors all that you have provided for me, and that I make you proud. You never let me say thank you for fighting for Ron and I all those years back. You always tell me “of course I wouldn’t leave,” but the reality is, you did more than just “not leave”...you showed up for us day after day, with so much love in your heart and with so much to teach. I am going to thank you for the rest of my life for being the best father and friend I could ever have wished for. Ron, Sam, and I are all better people for having had your love and support to embrace us. Thanks Daddy. I love you.

  Ron,what a legacy you have left. Your name is synonymous with hero, a title you wear so gallantly. I am so proud to be your sister, and have been honored to share you with the world; they now get to see the amazing man I grew up with, who left such an indelible impression on my heart and soul. You have given me so many gifts, even in your absence, that I cherish on a daily basis, and now I have the honor of sharing them with your nephew. “Loving you now, missing you always” I love you Big Bro, forever your little Squirt.

  Sam, you are the light of my life and have given me such purpose. It is impossible to be in a bad mood with you in the room. You have an infectious laugh, a beautiful heart, and a kind soul. Being your mom is the greatest joy of my life, and I could not be more proud of you. I am so excited to watch you flourish into an incredible man. Sky is the limit for you, and I will be there every step of the way, cheering you on. I will always be your biggest fan. I love you from the bottom of my heart to the moon and around the solar system five times and then some more. I love you, my little prince.

  Patti, Lauren (Jason, Dylan & Chase), Michael (Samantha, Madison, Chloe & Harper), we have joked about our functional dysfunctional family, but through all the ebbs and flows, we figure it out somehow. Michael and Lauren, it’s been great to watch you develop into adults, and now wonderful parents—you both have beautiful families; very proud of you both. Patti, thank you for loving my dad and for keeping him happy and healthy; after all these years, it’s nice to see you still hold each other’s hands, both literally and figuratively. Warms my heart. Love you guys.

  Grandma Elayne, Papa Edgar, The Friedrichs, and Jeffrey families thank you for opening your family to Ron and I when my Dad and Patti got married; we didn’t know how much we needed aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents until we met you. Love you all.

  My wonderful friends:

  You have stood by my side, holding my hand, letting me vent, making me belly laugh, passing me Kleenex (or a cocktail), loving (and babysitting) my kid and my pets, talking me off the ledge (or onto it)...to each of you who just let me be who I needed to be in that particular moment...my sweet friends and soul sisters, you are the best!

  Denise Woodgerd,there are not enough words to express the deep appreciation, respect, and love I have for you as a woman, friend, auntie, and mother. Our friendship is such a tremendous gift; each day I am reminded of how lucky I am to have you in my life. Thank you for your ac
ceptance, patience, compassion, unwavering support, and complete honesty. You know me like no other; I am so proud to have you as my best friend, my sister (sledge, hammer, Christian). I love you Boo.

  Michele Azenzer, you are truly one of a kind and I am in such awe of your beautiful soul. I have never met anyone so willing to learn, grow, teach, and accept. You are such a dynamic woman; I am truly honored to have you in my corner. You are the wind beneath my wings. I love you Mish.

  Lisa Whitecrow, you keep me grounded and constantly thinking. You are always the voice of reason (and usually right!) and have such tremendous insight and wisdom. I am inspired by your “smarts.” You have such a full, beautiful heart; thanks for being so willing to share it with me. I love you Lisa Fleisher.

  Jackie MacDougall, in the first five minutes of meeting you, I knew we’d be lifelong friends. The closer we get, the more grateful I am to know you. You are an incredible woman and an exceptional mother, and I learn something new every time we speak that inspires and motivates me; I feel fortunate to have you in my world—thanks for letting me in yours. Snort snort. I love you, you awesome Broad, you.

  Renee’ Kaehny,my kindred spirit. You are such a welcome addition to my life. I am so appreciative for our connection, and for the friendship that blossomed out of tragedy. You have a nurturing, calm way about you that makes me feel less frantic in my frantic moments. Thank you for sharing your home, your family, and your heart with me. I treasure you. Love you so much!

  Vicki Tiberi, thank you for your kind heart and encouraging words. You are always willing to extend your arms to help me out whenever I need it. I really appreciate knowing I can lean on you. Much love to you Vic.

  Christine Buckley, who knew that our girl crush would turn into years of a wonderful friendship. I love your eclectic style, free spirit, and Midwestern values that remind me so much of home. You inspire me with your willingness to risk your comfort level and explore a “new world.” I can’t wait to continue our journey together. Much love Kee Kee (hey, I did it!)

  Erika Iacopetti, can you believe we’ve been friends since we were six?! Not only are you my oldest friend, but you are also the strongest connection to my past, and I am forever grateful for that. I love that we’ve been able to stay close for more than three decades; sharing birth, death, marriage, divorce, birthdays, vacations, memories. I cherish you and love having you in my life...forever. I love you so much Kika.