Men of the Skull Interlude XII: Transitions

 This is the last of the interludes.  I decided to steal a page from Bram Stoker and tell this particular story through letters, journal entries, and social media posts (because Stoke was a MySpace fiend!)

So the interludes mixed with the chapters and stuff mean that the entire book is now written.  Now it needs cutting.  Hard core editing.  

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Interlude XII: Transition

Blog entry 2013

The Darkness

Several months ago, my Sister Lisa Empanada committed suicide.  The following piece was written maybe a week later, as my mind spun deeper into the Darkness.  It's not a long piece.  I never finished it, as I just couldn't.

I must also say that I no longer feel this way.  Thanks to the help of caring people and of my therapist, I managed to pull away from the Darkness, and LIVE.  After all, I made promises.  Promises that I'd live to be the Woman I am destined to be.  I promised Lisa.

So.  Here it is: completely unedited.

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I am totally worthless.

I have no value.  I could die tonight and no one would know or care. I would lay dead for days before anyone would notice.

What am I anyway?  I'm a freak.  No one cares about the freak.

Let's face it.  I've failed at everything in my life.  I've failed as a man.  I've failed as a woman.  I've failed as a husband and a father.  I fail as a friend.  I can't find a real job, and can barely hold the ones I have.

I always say the wrong things.  I piss people off.  I do the wrong things.  hell, I chose teaching and where has that gotten me?  I work retail for fucks sake.  I'm poor.  Broke.  And broken.

What's the point anyway?  Who am I helping by staying here?  no one.  I'm a burden on all who are stuck knowing me.  Nothing but a dead weight dragging everyone down.

There's no point.  No point in being alive when i Know what follows.  And Lisa is waiting for me there.  We can explore the afterlife together, laughing into eternity.

I would be long gone before anyone even knows.  I could be at peace, away from all the pain.  Wife would be relieved.  No more Sophie to worry about or to be embarrassed about.  No explaining to daughter needed.  Both would forget soon enough and be happy.

no one needs me.  So I don't need me.  I don't need pain.  All i need is for it all to end.

 

Blog Entry (Excerpts) Tuesday December 31, 2013

Some things seems pre-ordained.

We ALL know that, as mortals, someday we will die.  We all know that we will be taxed by a government.  We know that trans-people will be senselessly murdered.

I also knew that my parents would reject me as a Woman.  I mean after all, I've mentioned how they treated me growing up.  Dad being ultra-macho Army and all.  I never give them a chance.

In any case, telling them was my next big step.  I decided that I'd write a letter so I could have my points exactly as I wanted them... 

 

So.  I wrote a letter.  Trashed it.  Tried again.  Trashed it.  Tried 14 times.  Full trash can (as I write first drafts on paper.)  Recently, Dr. Cerise Richards challenged me to post this letter to help others, so it follows.  I give permission for girls wanting to use it or piece of it to do so, just not for publication, where I reserve all rights.  So.  Here it is.

Dear Mom and Dad,

Wife and I are here today to tell you exactly why we are no longer living under the same roof.  As I have maintained many times, the fault is not hers in any way.  The issue is complex, which is why I’m reading this to you instead of just speaking.  I wanted to get it right.  Wife knows all of what I am about to tell you, and has known for nearly two years. 

There is something I have to tell you about myself.  While this is serious, I am NOT dying, nor am I intending to do so.  I have been hiding from and or dealing with this problem since I was four, and I really did not understand it.  I am sure you have realized that I have had problems and even though I have tried to maintain a steady face on the surface, something has never been quite right with me.  As you know, I’ve been in therapy for 13 years.  You also know about my hospitalization back in 1990.  For the past five years, I’ve been seeing a specialist to get a handle on my issue and of get a better understanding of myself.  You may have noticed some changes in me this year.  I feel better, both in general and about myself, than I have at any time in my life. 

 The medical term for this condition is called Gender Dysphoria and it is basically the condition of being transgender…

 

…This has nothing to do with how I was raised, my diet… anything.  I was BORN this way.  41%  of people with this attempt suicide as it’s a very painful way to live… 

This is not a choice; it is something that I have to do in order to survive.  I have been treated by a therapist for five years and also, saw a second therapist for a second opinion…

This may seem sudden and impulsive, but in actuality, it is not. I have been doing many activities as a woman over the last five years including attending the local King of Prussia transgender support group once a month, shopping and eating out regularly, and helping others who are on this path.  I have spent the last five years building an emotional support network, and have many close friends in the transgender community.  

All I want is to feel at peace and to have a chance to reach my full potential in life.  I will always be your child and I love both of you very much.  The reality is, mentally I have always been your daughter, not your son, and I hope you will be able to accept me.  All I am doing is making physical changes to help me become on the outside the person I am on the inside and be accepted. I will always be here for both of you to help take care of you.  

I realize finding this out is very painful for you right now, and believe me I have always tried to avoid facing this about myself mainly for this very reason.  The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you, but in order to have any chance at a happy and fulfilling life, I have to make this change… I am the author of my life.  No one else has the right to attempt to form my life in the image they would have it be.  And my life is not based on lies.  My life is based on love and care, for my family, for my friends, for those that deserve my love.

I ask for your understanding, acceptance, and love.  I am passing through a very difficult time, and have already lost so much.  It will get harder, both for me and for you, but in time it will get better.  No matter what, I will continue forward.  I finally have a chance at happiness and peace in my life.  I’d love rather have you see me reach my full potential and that peace. 

You have many questions, and will continue to have them.  I will do my best to answer them for you.

 Love,
Lance
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A heartbeat.   Two.

My mum leaned forward in her chair and said “You are our child. We love you. This changes nothing."

My dad stood and said "Yes, we love you"

That was the first time in my 47 years that my dad said that he loved me.

 

 

Blog Entry (excerpts) March 12, 2014

The following is the [Book store] legal-department-approved letter that I will read to the management staff of my job on Monday, March 10 at 8 AM.  

On Tuesday, March 25, management will begin informing staff, and this letter will be posted on the break room bulletin board, and information regarding being TG will be made available.

On Monday, March 13, 2013, I will report to work as Sophie for the first time.

 

And now, the letter:

..........................................................................................

To my fellow coworkers

I must share the news about a major personal decision that will affect my appearance at work.  My doctors have diagnosed me with Gender Dysphoria (GD), a medical condition in which psychological gender is not in alignment with biological sex.  I am transgendered, which means I was born into the wrong gender…

…The process takes a number of years to complete, but the progress I have made to date has allowed me the ability to now start coming to work in my true gender: female…

 

Throughout the transition, I will continue to maintain the high performance standards that our company and I have upheld.  Post transition, it is my expectation that I will continue to excel at my position and maintain the good working relationships that I currently have within the company, my fellow booksellers, and with our customers…

HR have developed a plan to communicate my gender transition to our employees.  I am positive that we can accomplish a quick and effective transition.  It is imperative that we unify our message and information to assure the staff that we have a plan of action and that all involved are committed to a successful transition.  Office gossip or inappropriate discussions about my personal situation, as it is medical in nature, will serve to greatly undermine plans that have been developed, waste staff time and energy, and affect the performance on the floor…  

 

Journal Entry : Fri. March 21, 2014

Gazebo, Reeves park.  I started by telling her that I loved her very much, that Mommy loved her very much, and that this would never change.  I then told her there are boys and girls, but sometimes, so very rarely, someone comes along who isn't one or the other.  Blah blah blah.  And that Daddy is one of those people.  That daddy was born a boy but was supposed to be a girl.  And that now, Daddy was becoming the girl that she should've been all along.

[Wife] then mentioned that Daughter rememberwhat she learned about butterflies.  "What are butterflies before they're butterflies?"

Daughter smiled and said "First they are caterpillars, then they become a criss-lis, then they become butterflies."  She learned that the first day of kindergarten.

I smiled.  "Well, daddy is in chrysalis now.  And soon I'll become a girl."

“Like a butterfly!”

            “Right!”

            “Can we get ice cream now?”  

 

Transgender Forum Column (excerpts): March 23, 2014

This piece will be published on Monday, which will be my last day ever as a guy.  After that, it’s All Sophie, All day, all night.

So, to get this place took a LOT of planning and a lot of help.  Everyone does it differently.  And here I am going to tell you how I approached it.  Remember, this is my approach, your mileage may vary.  

Also, and I can’t stress this enough, if you don’t HAVE to transition — DON’T DO IT. Seriously.  It can and probably will destroy your life.

The process starts with the most important part — Realization.  After exhausting all other avenues, and still feeling the Intense Pain of Gender Dysphoria, to the point of knowing it means Change or…

After making that VERY difficult determination, I informed my Wife.  It led to a week of crying for us both.  It also led to me being thrown out of the house.  (We lived with her mother, and she threw me out for being a “freak.”)

Then the planning began in earnest.  In this phase, I worked closely with my therapist, Dr. Maureen Osborne, and my “Big Sister” Mel.

Okay, what needed to happen?  I needed to: 1. Set a date.  2. Inform my employers.  3. Inform family (for others this would be the first).  4. Prepare wardrobe and necessities.

The first part was difficult.  Timing is always delicate.  I decided to emulate my beautiful friend Stephanie by going full time at work upon returning from a conference.  In her case it was SCC.  In mine, it was Keystone.  That meant my last day as Lance would be Monday, March 24.  And my first day at work would be upon returning: March 31…

So, having started the ball rolling at work, I began planning how to tell my parents. I asked friends who had already done this, and they were incredibly helpful.  None of us transitions alone.  There’s a reason we’re a Community. Others have walked where you are now, and are usually happy to provide advice.  Especially about their mistakes.

In the end, I decided to write them a letter…  …They surprised me.  They accepted me… On a side note, my older brother laughed at me when I told him.  It was the first time in years I’d spoken to him, and I don’t see any need to speak to him again.

Okay.  What about closest friends?  I actually started with them first.  One by one, I met with them over drinks and told them.  One by one, they accepted me.  I was extremely lucky.  Over time, I honed my “presentation” to what NEEDED saying.  I’ll come back to that.

I decided I wanted to tell others that I simply didn’t have time to reach.  How to do it… Well, I’d been making videos for YouTube, so why not make one in drab, and send it out?  So that’s what I did. I made two videos: one for friends I’ve known ten years or more, and the other for more recent friends…  …I sent the one for older friends first. And so far, I have a better than 40% return rate, of which all but one was positive. I expected the rate to be far lower.  The one that wasn’t positive was essentially a “WTF?”  Then I sent out the other one, mostly to coworkers with whom I am close.  I think I chose well, as I have a 100% return rate with that, and all are positive.

I’ve been cautioned by many, including Donna Rose, that initial reaction is not necessarily long term reaction.  So all these positives my melt away like “tears in rain.”  But I need these positives.

All that remains is to post my Truth for the world to see on Facebook on Tuesday.  And for that, I am following the advice of my dear friend Jen L, who told me to approach it like a marketing campaign.  Keep it all positive — eliminate any negative.  All smiles.  All happiness.  Communicate with negatives privately, while thanking positives publicly.  Now?

I wait.

And I try not to freak out.

I have run headlong into burning buildings as a paramedic.  I have done things that chill my blood to think of them now.  And this?  This scares the living Hell out of me.  As I write this, Lance has two more days before Sophie takes over forever.  And I’ve never been such a huge ball of anxiety.  Thank God I planned this thoroughly in advance, because right now I couldn’t plan the strategy for a game of Candy Land.

Upon returning [from the Keystone Conference], I will have the Dreaded First Day of Work as a Woman.  I will deal with coworkers and customers.  If there’s an issue, I am not to engage- I am to let management handle it…  

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Social Media Post, 10 PM

March 24, 2014 ·

I must share the news about a major personal decision.  My doctors have diagnosed me with Gender Dysphoria (GD), a medical condition in which psychological gender is not in alignment with biological sex.  I am transgender, which means I was born into the wrong gender….

…The process takes a number of years to complete, but the progress I have made to date has allowed me the ability to live full time in my true gender: female.  This begins tomorrow: March 25, 2014.

My family and employer know.  Jen has been as supportive as she can, and my daughter understands the situation, and accepts it.  I will be off this week from work, and I will return to work next week as a woman.

I understand that there will be an adjustment period for everyone, but I would appreciate when you see me calling me by my chosen name of Sophie, and then using the proper pronouns like “she” and “her” in conversation…

…Thank you in advance

Lance Kandler
Aka: Sophie Lisa Kandler

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Blog Entry

Today, March 25, 2014, I begin living full time as a woman.

I announced it to my "male side" friends on Facebook last night, and received many nice comments…

As I said, I announced last night.  Veteran readers know that today at my job, management is informing the staff.  Also, today I leave for the Keystone Conference. 

Last night was rather busy.  I stayed up past midnight, then couldn't sleep.  Why?
Nerves?
No.
I was crying so hard.

I was crying because I really wish Lisa had lived to see this day.  Yes, her loss still affects me that strongly. 

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Transgender Forum column:  June 16, 2014

The Price

If you’ve read this column before, you know a few things about me.  You know that I live full time as a woman, and I have done so since March.

I did so knowing the possibilities. Many of my Trans friends who have not transitioned wonder what this is like. They talk over drinks about the fun of wearing women’s clothes daily, and of no longer needing to hide.

And it’s a wonderful Dream. Isn’t it?

I went into this eyes open, knowing that this would cost me my marriage, and so much more.  I knew it could cost me almost everything, up to and including my life, as it did Lisa’s.

So is it worth all of this?

July 2014.  Still not there yet

What does this Price buy?  Well, there’s the basic stuff.  I go through my daily life and most people see me as a Woman.  I am addressed as such.  Usually.  As a woman, I can, if I wish, wear a dress to work, and no one cares.  The hormones have changed me physically.  I now have breasts of my own.  My skin has softened, as have my facial features.  I’ve been growing my hair for over two years, and now it brushes my shoulders.

All of these things were my dreams when I was younger, and they’ve all come true.

Some things have yet to happen.  I am not yet physically a total woman.  According to the protocols, I have nine months more to wait before I can be approved for that.  Then there’s that whole money thing.  I want my hair to grow much longer as well, so I can look like I did when I wore wigs, or a reasonable facsimile.  That will take time.

Possible side effects are varied. Estrogen causes moodiness. I have learned to cry, and that I cry often, sometimes out of nowhere. I have given up my Male privilege. Yes, it exists, and you don’t realize it unless you don’t have it. Many men treat women as inferiors. Hell, you’d think I got a lobotomy instead of a becoming my True Self.

Be prepared to lose people you thought were friends.  They will NOT understand.  How can they unless they have lived it?  This very night, I spoke to a friend I’ve known since 1980.  He still doesn’t comprehend, but he understands that I was in Pain.  How do I explain to him why I had to do what I did?

I don’t have exact figures for this, but if you’re married: kiss it goodbye.  Marriages that survive transition are so very rare.  Other relationships too.  People lose parents, children, neighbors… even pets.  I rarely see my dog.   Often times we also lose the places we live. And we can’t find others.  Welcome to my world.

We Lose.  And that’s the Price:  Loss.  And that’s what I tell people who say they want to transition.  I say exactly what I was told by my “Big Sister” Mel.  (And she was 100% right.)  I say “Are you prepared to lose EVERYTHING? Because there’s a good chance you will.”

What does one get for all of this Loss? What does the Price buy when it is paid?

Peace.

I am at Peace for the first time in my life.  I’ve written that many times, but what does it mean?  It means that I no longer feel “wrong.”  I look in the mirror and see what I feel I should’ve all along.  Well everywhere but down low, if you catch my meaning.  But that will change someday too.

I sleep in a bra and panties, as many women do.  I fuss over my makeup and hair. I look down and see the changes that the hormones made to my body — not during puberty as with most women, but recently.  

So that is the Price and what it buys. If I had a choice to be just an occasional crossdresser verses who I am now, would I have paid the Price?

Well, that’s a trick question.  And the Entire Point.  For me, it was transition or die.  There were no other options.  That’s how bad the Pain had become.  I have written this many times, and I’ll write it again here:

If you don’t HAVE to transition: DON’T.  It’s that simple.

If I were an occasional CD, I’d probably still live with Wife.  We’d still be a family.  So many other things wouldn’t have happened, like my impending homelessness.

I HAD to transition, and it has brought me the Peace I craved.  I paid the Price, and I’m still paying it today.  I will pay it always, like an eternal student loan.  Now I face the challenge of building a new life.

A Life as a middle-aged Woman.

My Life.

Men of the Skull Interlude XI: Fingernails

 Second to last of the interludes for Men of the Skull.  This one is about Linda Lewis.

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Interlude XI: Fingernails

Saturday December 28, 2013  Judge Upholds N.S.A.’s Bulk Collection of Data on Calls

Well, I guess it should start back when I found out about her.  My femme side resurfaced in 2008- that is true- but I knew about trans sites before that.  Around 2001, I was doing an internet search for fiction sites so I could post my work, and Fictionmania came up: a transgender story site.  I remember starting to read a story there and I was hooked.  I couldn't believe that there was a site that had stories such as these- stories that spoke to something that I had long buried.  From there, I started looking up other transgender sites, and very quickly after I found Linda.

Linda ran a website at the time, with pictures and her interviews from various magazines like Ladylike and such.  She also has a Flickr page, where she has thousands of fans. She was amazing, gorgeous, and untouchable: an Icon.  And she still is.

Heck she even appeared in ads!  When I re-awakened in 2008, I started looking for things that would improve my figure etc.  One of the places I found made scientifically designed hip pads for Trans people.   A new one had just come out and there, on the ad, was Linda- sitting on a stool in a red dress looking absolutely stunning.  Later in my search, I found a site that sold breast prosthetics, and there she was again- modeling the breast prosthetics.  I was like "this woman is everywhere!" and again I thought she was some kind of Royalty.  In addition, she did transformation makeup in Hollywood at Jim Bridges’ salon near a place called the Queen Mary.

In 2009, that I sent Linda a Flickr message, asking her about the breast and hip prosthetics.  She kindly responded, and I felt I'd been touched by the hand of God. 

Years later, Linda posted something on social media.  I forget exactly what it was, but she seemed very down.  She had a health scare of some kind, which I later found out was a collapsed lung.  She needed financial help, so I sent what I could.  It was then that she and I started chatting online.  I found out that we had a lot of movies and music in common.  A tenuous friendship began.

I decided that I was going to go to the Southern Comfort Conference.  A few of us wanted to help Linda attend as well.  Now this is saying something because Linda is a very proud person and doesn't like asking for help.  We figured out a way to get her a hotel room- she would room with a friend I knew, and between us we paid for her transportation.  I didn't realize when this started that by the time Southern Comfort came around, my life would have completely turned upside down.

At a mall in Atlanta, SCC 2013

And it was there I met Linda, and we became friends… when I wasn’t making her angry.

A couple months later, she was supposed to move down to Florida.  The details there are personal, I’ll skip them.  However, she was delayed- she couldn't move down to Florida, but her lease was up in Michigan.  She had nowhere to go.  I asked my dear friend M, with whom I was staying, if she could put Linda up for a couple weeks.  She readily agreed, because she is the kind of person who Helps.  So it was that in late December 2013, I met Linda in her drab mode at State College, Pennsylvania, where we had agreed to meet. (Only a week before, I was headed this way during a snowstorm to blow my head off, but I turned around.)  It was a rainy, snowy, messy day, and she followed me from there back to the house where we would both stay for another six months.  I lived on the second floor, while she lived in the basement, but it was during that time that I got to know the woman behind the Legend. 

Tuesday, December 31, 2013.  Bomb Attacks in Russia Echo Threats by Chechen Insurgent

Sandy Empanada was coming north to go to the Raven on New Years Eve.   I didn’t want to go as my knee still hurt from a bone bruise suffered in a workplace accident a couple of weeks before.  But I wanted to be there for Sandy, as this would be her first New Years without Lisa.  Linda had settled into the house and was willing to go out.  I wanted to introduce her around to the Trans Community here.  That's one thing she didn't have in Saginaw, Michigan: a community.  So, I went. 

I wanted to impress her with my makeup skills, so I tried a few things I’d learned here and there.  I then waited in the kitchen for Linda to emerge.  She took one look at me and said “Oh HELL NO!  Sit DOWN!”  My heart sank!  She pulled a chair from the dining room as I went to get my makeup per her demand.  She completely redid my look while teaching me some techniques I never knew.  M teased out my wig.  Not just teased- she got absolutely sadistic with it!  And it looked great!  I received so many compliments all night.  Linda met many people of the Philly Trans scene.  And she danced the night away while getting rather tipsy.  I didn’t drink, as I was worried about all the other drivers and police.

Raven NYE 2013

I thought Linda would just be there for a few weeks.  However, she kept getting delayed through no fault of her own.  Eventually she gave up on Florida, found a job, and we decided to get an apartment in Pennsylvania.  We moved out, found a third roommate Zoey (without whom we would have been on the street- and we will be forever in her debt.)  We lived there for a year, then moved from place to place, hanging on by our fingernails as jobs for me were sporadic.  As of this writing, she is my roomie in State College.  No one will ever replace Lisa, but Linda has helped my soul heal.  And hopefully, I’ve been able to help her as well.

Men of the Skull Interlude X: Goodbye

 

Interlude X: Goodbye 

Friday, September 20, 2013  Russia: Coast Guard Boards Greenpeace Ship in Arctic

The body was in drab.  It was Tom dressed in a suit.  The shirt was purple, as that was Lisa's favorite color.  I knew that under his shirt was an Underarmor constriction shirt to hide Lisa's breasts.  His black hair was slicked back and his hands were folded over his abdomen.  He was heavily made up.  In the hairline I could see why.  The skin was hot pink (a side effect of carbon monoxide poisoning.)  I looked at the face for a moment, and I could see Lisa's feminine features.  This... guy... whom I never met, was indeed Lisa.  

Tom.  An army veteran.  A contractor.  A former male exotic dancer called “Lance.”  Tried desperately to fight against an inborn torment.  As do I.

 

What can I say?

Lisa Empanada was gone.

 

Lisa was a Sister to me.  She was close as blood.  Closer.  We talked about everything and anything.  We explored the darkness that I knew, and that eventually took her.

We laughed.  Oh, how we laughed.

And we cried.

Lisa, to the world, was about happiness.  She had endless compassion.  Full of love.

Some would say it was love that caused her to do what she did.  They would be wrong.

Lisa was no stranger to Love.  When she passed, the internet became a tidal wave of love for her.  People related stories.  Wrote poems.  Quoted songs.  If Lisa saw it all, she would roll her eyes, blush,  and laugh.

Lisa was loved because she loved.  She loved everyone.  But the love her life was her wife, Sandy.  They are truly soulmates.  

And Lisa left her behind.

She planned her death.  Meticulously.

On Monday September 16, the sun rose on Lisa's last day here on earth.  She left work at noon, and her foreman said she had a strange and sad look to her face.  The last person that we know saw her alive was a neighbor who saw her cleaning out the back of a Painting van.  The same van that she used to attempt suicide months ago.  The one with the gas powered compressor in the back.  She never cleaned out that van.  See, she wasn't the tidiest person.

She left a couple of things in the house for Sandy, including a short message, written with lipstick on a mirror.  Sandy showed me the mirror.  The message. 

From there, the details are known only to Lisa and God.  

So what can I say?

 

Lisa's last phone call was just after 10 AM to the foreman of the job she was working.  It lasted under two minutes.  She said "I'll be back to stain the stairs."

  

Sandy spoke to the man who found Lisa's body.  She told me what he said.  The van was there at 3 PM. ( Last prior sighting was 11:30 AM.)  The man saw it pull up and park across the road from his house, but this was not unusual.  The next morning, the van was still there, so he went over to look in it.  He looked in the front window and saw what he thought was a Hispanic sleeping in the back.  He went to the rear doors and opened one.  Lisa's foot flopped out lifelessly.  The man called the police.

 

Lisa was found with the pink stuffed animal, Mudsey, under one arm.  Keys were in the other hand.  Between that arm and her chest, facing out, was the wedding picture.  It slid there after she died.  The necklace and wedding ring were on her.  Tina's makeup bag was next to her.  In the bag was her carry letter and her driver's license.  The machine was NOT running, as it automatically shuts off after 4 hours.  

            The police who moved everything to the front seat to remove the body.  Lisa died with representations of her loved ones with her.  Since the estimated time of death was somewhere between 6 and 9 PM, and the van was parked there at 3, what did Lisa do before starting the compressor?  My educated guess is that it took maybe ten or fifteen minutes for the van to fill with the poison gas.  From there, it would take ten minutes for her to die, quietly.  She just fell asleep and left this world.  

 

I like to think those hours were filled with Lisa fighting for possession of Tom, trying to stop what was happening.  Maybe she sat crying in the van.  Maybe my estimate is all wrong, and it took her hours to die.

 In any case, Sandy didn't go upstairs to see the note left for her until 9 that night.  By the time the search began, Lisa was already gone.

 

The person driving the van was Tom.  Tom was Lisa's birth name, and Tom was a tortured soul.  He drove the van to a different part of the city, miles away.  Maybe he went elsewhere first.  No one knows when he parked the van.  Tom brought with him something to represent each of his children, his "carry letter" stating Lisa was Transgender, and his drivers license.  He brought a framed wedding picture.  These items he laid on the front seat in plain sight.  A necklace with LISA in script letters that Sandy gave him.

And he brought a pillow.  Sometime during that day or night, he started the compressor, lay his head on the pillow, and waited for the carbon monoxide to do its work.  Which it did.

It did.

And Lisa died.  Tom took her from us.

Sandy returned home from work, saw what was left for her, and started calling around, and texting people.  She called the police and filed a missing person's report.  

 

The message written in lipstick on the mirror: “Truly Madly Deeply.”

 

Their wedding song.  Her promise to Sandy.  Broken.

 

Tuesday September 17, 2013.  Lisa and Sandy's Eighth Wedding Anniversary.

 

I woke early that day.  4 AM.  And I saw messages from several people asking if I'd heard from Lisa.  I hadn't, which was unusual.  In fact, my last message from her was Saturday early morning, September 14, at 12:44 AM.  She wished me a happy belated birthday, as well as something else, which I will not write here.  That one is just for me.

It was odd I hadn't heard from her for a couple of days.  I wondered if I'd pissed her off.  But she had pushed me away.  As she had with everyone over the previous week, one by one.  She had her plan, and wasn't going to be deterred.  Not this time.

I contacted Sandy, offered to help.  She said it wasn't necessary- that the police were on it.

At 1 PM, I received the text that I expected and dreaded from Sandy.  And with it, I left work and headed south toward Baltimore at high speed.

"They found Lisa in Essex.  She's gone."

And with that, my life changed.

My Sister was gone.

From the funeral

I read once that people who attempt suicide have three things in common, and that all three need to be present: “Thwarted belongingness" or feeling alone; "Perceived Burdensomeness" or feeling like a burden; and "Capability for Suicide" or I am not afraid to die.

Lisa and I talked a lot as we moved forward through our lives.  She would come up to Pennsylvania for transgender events.  We would hug and laugh when we were together.  It wasn't until later that we cried.

And when she suddenly stopped her Facebook account in the spring, we spoke for hours as she fought the Darkness.  She was suicidal.  She had a plan and wasn't going to be turned from it.  She attempted suicide, but her daughter found her in time.  

She got help.  And with Sandy's love, we thought she turned everything around.  But it was a lie.

She was not afraid to die.  Nor was I.  And we understood each other.

 

She went full time as a woman, except for work.  There was a party for her thrown by her family.  I was honored to attend.  An Affirmation Party.  On her 52^nd birthday.

Lisa was angelic and happy.

After her party, I wrote her a letter that came to me in a dream.  I sent it to her via FB message.  And she wrote back.

I can't comment other to say...thank you so much. I am crying but I don't know if I am happy or sad. I feel pain for what could have been and for what I might have done to you and others, yet those missteps brought me to a real life dream come true. Yet still those feelings, that pain, so familiar to both of us is haunting. Thank you Sophie! 

She used what I wrote as a part of what would be the finest thing I ever read from her.  And the most horrific.  But I'll get to that in a moment.  

Then we discussed my transition plan, and she wrote this:

It is a sometimes seemingly horrendous journey. Thankfully we don't have to do it alone. Take my hand.......

I am so thankful that you extended yours 

 

And so I did.  We would transition together.  Sisters.  A promise of shared experiences. Never alone.

 

So what can I say? 

We all thought the darkness was gone.  It wasn't.

No.  It never left her.  And she knew we were all watching, so she hid it from all of us.  

 

After her April attempt, Lisa told me many times that I saved her life.  I didn't.  And I have found myself thinking about that.  Was that a waste of time?  And it struck me.  No.  It wasn't.  It bought us all five extra months of Lisa.

We all had five months more of her in our lives.  Her smile.  Her words.  I personally had one of the most moving and affirming experiences of my life thanks to her party.

Right now, I'd give everything but my wife and daughter to speak to Lisa for just a minute.  To hold her close and feel her tears.  But we had five months of "borrowed time" already.

Lisa broke all her promises.  She promised we would transition together.  She promised to call me before the Darkness took her.  She didn't.  And she's gone.

 

Friday, September 20, 2013   Joseph N Zannino Funeral Home,  Baltimore, MD.

There was to be no funeral.  Lisa didn't want one.  Yet two viewings were scheduled.  The first was 3-5 PM and the second was 7-9.  Unannounced was another viewing for family only from 2-3 PM.

 

I walked slowly up the stone steps to the door of the funeral home.  Inside the light seemed dim compared to the brilliant sunlight outside.  To the left of the small foyer was a small guest book, which I signed.  Once past the foyer, I saw my friend Hayden, dressed all in black (which actually wasn't unusual for him.)  He pulled me aside and said "Sandy wants you to have this."  

He gave me the Four-leaf Clover necklace that I had sent to Lisa a lifetime ago (was it only a couple of months?)   I looked at the small silver charm and necklace in my hand, and my eyes began to mist.

 

There were maybe sixty people there, mostly family.  I saw few people I knew and spoke to them briefly, with my back to the casket.  Then I turned to face it.  

 

I knelt at the provided kneeling thing, and said a prayer for Lisa.  I then looked into the lifeless face... and bitched her out for over a minute, crying the whole time.  "You were supposed to call when you felt this way.  Now look at you- decaying in men's clothing!"  I then stood and headed out the door, all but bawling.  

 

Funeral Home that night

There was a break for dinner. I was sitting on the curb when they told me.  A mess.

 

When everyone returned from dinner, the funeral home was packed!  So many people!  So many transpeople had come out to pay tribute and say goodbye to Lisa.  Maybe 120 people, mostly us.

 

I re-entered and went back to the casket, where I waited in line for my turn.  The room was stifling hot- packed with people.  My personal Hell.  Eventually it was my turn.  I knelt again, and said another prayer for Lisa.  I then quietly caught her up with events in my life, as I used to when she was alive.  Again, I cried the whole time.  This time I reached out and touched her arm.  Stone cold.

 

After I hugged Sandy again, I went to the back of the room.  Someone had made a book of pictures of Lisa and her writings.  I was told I was "all over the book."  And I was.  In it were several pictures of Lisa and I together.  Also there was the piece I wrote for her, as well as her description of receiving the necklace I gave her.  The necklace that was then zipped into an inner compartment in my purse.

 

Soon a priest appeared.  He was older, Italian, and spoke with an accent.  He summoned "immediate family only" to the front of the room.  So it family in the front, transgender people in the back.  I stood next to my friend Cecilia from Harrisburg.  Many of us looked at each other in confusion.  Why was there a priest there?  Lisa was anti-religion!  I found out later that Sandy asked him there for her comfort, as she was Catholic.

 

The priest started by referring to "Brother Tommy" and led everyone in prayer.  Then he started in with "everyone knew about Tommy's identity issues" and kept on going.  "The pope has ordered we clergy to be tolerant of these poor misguided individuals" and "God will forgive them anyway," Cecilia and I held hands, both of us squeezing very hard.  All of us were so incredibly angry!  This... person... was not only insulting the deceased but also insulting over two thirds of the people in the room!  I had a clear line of sight to his face and glared at him angrily.  My eyes never leaving his face.  I was so pissed off!

 

The priest finished with a prayer, and left quickly.  He was a busy man.    

 

Lisa’s daughter, Kay then stepped to the spot he had vacated and introduced herself.  She spoke of how she was Lisa's daughter, and how so many of us never met Tommy, only Lisa, and continued from there to paint a loving portrait of the Lisa we all knew.  She always referred to Lisa, not Tom, and to her as "my mom."

 

She redeemed the service in all of our eyes.  And I told her so. 

After Kay finished, there was another line to visit the coffin, and I joined it.  Eventually it was my turn.  The moment I dreaded was here- the moment I prayed would never, ever come.  It was time to say goodbye to one of my best friends.  To my "transition buddy."  To my Sister.  

 

To Lisa.

 

I saw her last at the Southern Comfort conference in Atlanta.  I cried on her shoulder for an eternity.  The last thing she told me was that only by being whole... by being Sophie, could I be the best possible parent to my daughter.  She urged me to be the best parent to my daughter that I could.  When we hugged goodnight, she held me firmer and longer than ever before.  I thought it was because I was upset. 

I know now she was saying Goodbye.

I never said goodbye to her.  Tom deprived me of that.

All we have left are memories and questions for which we will never know the answers.  What were her last thoughts on Earth as she drifted off to that final sleep?  Was she smiling and at peace, like she wrote before?  Or did she cry, knowing who and what she was leaving behind?  

We know the last thing she heard- the sputtering rumble of a gas-powered compressor that was her chosen method.

Now we are all without her.  And there is pain.  Why did she do it?  She told us all.

She felt she was hurting Sandy.  And she couldn't stand it.  A burden.

Yes, Tom died of Carbon Monoxide poisoning.  That's a medical fact.  But Love was not the true reason Tom did this.

No.

Tom died because he was transgender.  And that fact led him to his death.  As sure I am of my daughter's love.  Being trans, Lisa believed she no longer belonged.  To Sandy.  To anyone.

Tom died, taking Lisa with him.  Taking my Sister.  My dear friend.  

And I cried for days.

 

I again knelt and offered one last prayer in her presence.  I then looked into her pale, dead face and told her how I loved her, and how I would carry her in my heart all the days of my life.  That I would live by her example of welcoming everyone, and of loving all.  I placed one of my business cards in the crook of her left arm, on the back of which I had written "Goodbye Lisa.  I will always love and miss you."  I then said that to her as I held her lifeless right arm.  I then said goodbye, crying like I'd never cried before or since.  I turned my back on the coffin, on Lisa, and left the funeral home.  Now I had to do the impossible: go on with my life without her.

 

She was cremated the next morning.  All the beauty that was Lisa.  Her smile, her eyes, were now ash.  

 

From the funeral, the family and a few transpeople went to Lisa’s favorite bar, which was close to where she lived.  After a drink, I walked to Lisa and Sandy's house.  Sandy had asked me to come over.  Upon arrival, I sat with Sandy and her daughter Tina.  We sat and spoke quietly about some private things.  I looked over at a table and again saw the wedding picture that Lisa had with her in that horrible van.  It smelled of fumes.  Still does.

 

Sandy and Tina told me some private things that made me cry again, but I also smiled through my tears.  She then led me downstairs to the basement, where, hanging everywhere were Lisa's things.  And she pointed out several full suitcases- all full.  Lisa was quite the shopper!  As she and I were the same size, Sandy started stuffing a bag with dresses and tops.  She tossed in six wigs, two of which had never been worn.  She then disappeared around a corner and said "wait here a sec."  

 

She returned holding a white floral dress: the one Lisa wore to her Affirmation Party.  Sandy said "you should have this."

 

I said "I... I am not worthy of this."

 

Sandy said "I can't think of anyone Lisa would've wanted to have it more than you."

 

I took the dress and looked at it.  I then placed it in the bag.  I still have never worn it.  It hangs empty in my closet.

 

We spoke for a little while longer, and then hugged.  I took my leave, and placed the bag in my car. 

 

At 1:30 AM, we were in the driveway of the house where I was staying.  I went inside and removed my black dress- the dress I was wearing the night I met Lisa.  I never wore that dress again.  I pulled off my wig and collapsed into bed without removing my makeup and slept a dreamless sleep.

  

 

Over the years, I’ve looked for a silver lining to all this. 

 

I previously mentioned the article on Suicide.  And it fit Lisa to a T.  As it has me a few times in my life.  And survived. 

I was so close to calling out to my Sister "Hey Lisa! Wait up!  Let's explore the Light together!" and following her away.

So what can I say?  I didn’t follow.  I learned that my sisters are there for me.  They've proved it those horrible days.  I know I will never be alone.  And even if they are not, I will always have Lisa in my heart, where I will keep her all the days of my life.

I would transition to the Woman I truly am and carry Lisa with me into the life she denied for herself.

A saying I heard later applies: “I am because she was.” 

 

There have been many ways people have said "Goodbye" over the years.  I could paraphrase Shakespeare.

"Goodnight Sweet Princess.  And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

 

I think it's appropriate to give my sister Lisa the last word.  This is from a piece she posted on Facebook on December 24, 2012 at 8:27 AM. The last line is so appropriate to her memory.  it distills Lisa to her essence.  

Can you take some stuff away from us? We have too much of somethings that no one should have so much of. Could you please stop by on Christmas and take away the doubt. Can you remove the tremendous pain and grief from our shoulders...so many of us are buckling under the weight. Could you take away the nightmares that haunt our waking hours. Can you take away the feeling of loneliness? Can you take away the skepticism that we can ever manage to believe in the magic that moves us?

Santa, can you take away our fears. We have too many of them already. If you can, please do. Because so many of us are trapped by fear and doubt, by regret and a lack of confidence.

If you could just take this stuff away ... or find a way to help us to, I know we can be stronger and soar higher. I know we can be the Angels on Earth we are destined to be.

 

The angel flew and left me here—

As I was destined to be.