Yellowstone Confession

Five years ago today we arrived in Yellowstone.  I can’t claim that I remembered this, Holly did. She has such a great memory for things like this.  My conscious mind did not remember this but yesterday (we left for Yellowstone 9/23) I talked to someone about how the loss of him affected my brain.   Becky was up in the mountains today and talked to a friend about the trip but she also did not realize it was 5 years ago today.  But even though Bec and I did not remember the actual day, it was on our minds. It was such a great trip, but hard.

I read the blog from our trip to Yellowstone. I laughed. I cried. And now I must confess. I did something on that trip that I have never told my family. I didn’t tell anyone till a few months ago, I did not even tell Chris. At work our project manager sometimes has us write something down that no one knows about us then we try and figure out who it was. I couldn’t think of a lot since I talk so much (no really, I do). But then I thought, I will write down my Yellowstone confession. They will never think it is me.

I took my parents car to fill it up with gas (not the confession).  When I fill up my own car I throw away garbage while I wait…fast food bags, pop cans, paper, etc.  My parents car had no garbage, so I sat in the car and waited.  When I heard the click from the gas nozzle.  I was like great and I started the car and began driving.  I heard this strange noise and looked in the side mirror and see the gas hose hanging from the car and trailing on the ground…not connected to the gas station tank at all, but connected to my parent’s car.  No gas was leaking out.  The hose just popped off at some connector point.  I thought, I can’t just drive away…they may have cameras and they will go after my parents since I am in their car. So I parked, took the gas pump out of the car and walked into the gas station. The guy looked at me, I held up the gas pump and hose wondering how much is this going to cost me. Imagine my relief when he said “Ah, that happens all the time. Set it down and don’t worry about it”. So I said “Oh thank goodness! Thank you!” and drove back to the condo and acted like nothing happened.

I couldn’t believe I did this.  But apparently my co-workers did…they knew exactly who it was when this was read aloud.  I thought I had a good one…I even included that I had never told anyone about it.  I figured if they even thought it was me the would think again because I usually tell on myself anyways.  But no, they were not fooled.  They laughed and there was a resounding “LISA!” when it was time to make their guess.  I was like “What the hell! Why would you all think it was me?” I was actually surprised.  I shouldn’t be surprised they knew it was me.  But I really was.

I wish I had told Steve about this. Five months later we had our last night with him.  We all had a moment to speak privately with him and I should have whispered this to him.  I could have shared my secret, and he would have taken it to his grave, literally.  I describe Steve’s normal laugh as a giggle.  He couldn’t really giggle anymore.  But we knew when he found things funny.  And this, this would have made him “laugh” hard.  I say “laugh” but MSA changed his laugh so much using the word “laugh” does not really describe the sounds he would make when he found things funny.  Some times it was a high pitched steady noise, other times he would cry.  Not cry from laughing too hard but actually straight crying.  It was like MSA messed with his ability to express his emotions accurately.  Oh how he would have loved this story.  There are a lot of things I miss about him, his giggle is one of them.  When I find things funny, I imagine his giggle.

Re-reading our Yellowstone blog, I was struck by another tattoo I want.  I have a fishing fly tattoo in Steve’s honor.  He would not be thrilled with this, he was not a fan of tattoos.  But I love having this image representing him.  Now, I want a tattoo that says “Shambala”.  I love this word, love the song.  I define Shambala as “Joy”.  This is what my family gives me, joy. Now I need to figure out where to put it.  Sometimes that takes me a long time to decide.   When the right location strikes me, tattoo parlor here I come.


2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Becky
    Sep 24, 2015 @ 21:35:24

    I love your story, and yes, Steve would have loved it!


  2. grumpybutterfly
    Sep 24, 2015 @ 22:18:34

    Thanks Bec. He would have gotten a kick out of this for sure.


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