Friday, July 9, 2010

Bobby Part 8- Epilogue: Cycle of Pain, Tears, Anger, Regrets and Bobby.

After Bobby died, for a long while, I shut up and shut down, trying to move from one day to the next. I no longer shared what I was feeling, how much I missed Bobby. If I didn't understand why I hurt so badly, how would anyone else?

Every hope, every dream I had held on to for the past three years ended when Bobby died. I felt lost, like I had no direction. Common sense told me no one would understand the sense of loss I felt. I knew if you added all the time Bobby and I shared, the crazy chance encounters, spring break, the times we talked, Mum's, it would total no more than a few days. The equivalent of a wonderful weekend spread out over the course of 3 years. How was it possible for such a short amount of time to have such a huge impact on someone’s life, my life? How could a normal person comprehend what I was feeling when what I was feeling was not normal? I learned to play the game of life is fine, when really it wasn't. Good and bad, I kept every thing inside. I may not have talked about Bobby but he was very much with me every day.

For several months Bobby's letter was my nightly ritual. After saying my prayers, before turning off my light, I would read his letter, gently lay it on the bed next to me. I would fall asleep with my hand resting on it. His p.s. meant the most. I would run my finger over it time and time again. That one sentence was the most wonderful gift he gave me. From the moment I had made the decision to have and keep my daughter I worried that I had ruined any and all chances I might have with him one day. In that wonderful short sentence, Bobby let me know it was okay, I made the right choice. He did not care who the father was, only me. Like his brother Kevin, he could look past my mistakes. Every night when I read his letter, as tears streamed down my cheeks, I was aware I was in essence torturing myself, yet I could not stop. As long as I read his letter, as long as it laid next to me every night, he was still present in my life. I was not ready to let him go, live with out him. I needed a small part of him, even if it was only a letter.

When Bobby died, for months I was so angry with God. I had asked God to always be with Bobby, watch over him. I was convinced God had not heard my prayers. I believed he took Bobby from me. I blamed God for his death. It would take months for me to let go of my anger, listen to God, forgive myself for doubting him, my faith.

One August morning while I was pushing my daughter on a swing, I heard the familiar sounds of approaching army helicopters. During the summer it was common place to see the helicopters fly overhead on their training missions to and from Fort Meade. The sight and sounds of the helicopters brought tears to my eyes. They were a constant reminder of Bobby’s crash, his death. That morning I watched them as they headed back toward Fort Meade, tears once again began to fill my eyes. It was a typical August day, hazy, hot and humid. Stifling heat, nothing was moving, not the air, not the birds, everything was stagnant. As I watched the sun reflect off the helicopter rotors, a random summer breeze blew threw my hair out of no where. The breeze felt the same as it did that night in Pensacola. I closed my eyes to enjoy it’s coolness, as I did I saw Bobby, saw his smile. I could feel him in that breeze. For that one moment I was in heaven, I was with him. I did not want to open my eyes, let him go. For months I convinced myself if God had been with Bobby he would have never crashed, he would still be alive. As I closed my eyes, stood still, felt him, saw his face, his eyes, I understood. I heard God. When Bobby crashed, that was when he needed God to be with him the most. God didn't cause Bobby to crash, he held him when he died. God did answer my prayers, it was not the way I envisioned they would be answered. As the helicopters began to fade away in the distance I asked God to forgive me, to please be with Bobby's family, give them the strength I never had. After that day whenever the helicopters flew overhead, my eyes still had tears in them, but they were accompanied by a smile. I finally realized instead of being angry with God, I needed to thank him. Bobby was able to do what few other men could, he got to fly. If only for a short while, Bobby lived his dream. He earned his wings of gold. Bobby was a naval aviator. He was happy. For that I thanked God.

After Bobby's death, I concluded maybe some people aren't meant to be happy, they aren't meant to be in relationships, they are meant to live alone. Maybe I was that person. I convinced myself I needed to be happy with what I had, not want more. Wanting only lead to hurt, pain. The men I cared for, the men I loved, did two things, they hurt me (Martin) and they left me (Bobby). Two years later when my daughter's father called, announcing he was getting married but he had a "slight" problem. His future wife gave him an ultimatum, if he wanted to marry her, he had to abandon, have nothing to do with our child, his child. That afternoon, over the phone, he walked away from his daughter, his blood. I tried to convince him if he left it would be a mistake he would regret. He had already made up his mind. A bond that is suppose to be stronger than any, that of a parent to a child, he had no trouble breaking. The father of my child walked out of her life. His actions would “seal the deal” with my relationship/trust with men for many years. The third strike was added to the previous two, men cheat/lie, they leave me (die) and that afternoon I learned they abandon their children. Men caused nothing but pain in my life. I had been lost and tired for too long. Men to me were an affliction I did not have the strength to deal with. I decided it was better to go it alone, forget about men, I did not need them.

I had long since surrendered to my constant loneliness when a few years into my hiatus from men an old friend, a high school crush came to visit. It felt good to be in some one's arms I could trust. We had known each other since I was fourteen. I needed to be held, to be wanted. I needed to trust someone I felt safe with. We began to kiss, to undress each other. Then before anything could happen, as suddenly as he started, he stopped. He left me confused and hurt. After years of being alone, the first man I trusted, stopped, he sent me away. When I asked him why he stopped, why he was sending me home? What he said and what I heard were completely opposite. What he said, something felt wrong. What I heard, something was wrong with me. Now I realize he was right, something was wrong. I was using him trying to fill my void of loneliness. I hoped being with him would help me forget the past, if only for a little while. He understood, what I could not comprehend, if we had gone any further we would have lost the wonderful friendship we had developed through the years. A close friendship we still share to this day. I drove home in tears, I was convinced more than ever, men were only meant to hurt me. They were never going to make me happy. The fourth and final nail was now in my coffin of relationships with men.

Over the next eleven and a half years I would be; Mom, daughter, aunt, friend, retail manager, assistant hotel manager, decorative painter, girl scout leader, cheerleading coach, gymnastics instructor. I would wear many titles except date, girlfriend, lover. I devoted my life to my daughter, my family, my work. I took care of everyone except myself. I had numerous male friends, they were all safe. They were either married or lived far away. There was no chance of temptation, no chance of getting close, no chance of added torment, no chance of tears or heart ache. After a while I no longer realized what I was doing, it was normal to be only mom. While other women my age would go out and have fun, I stayed home, watched television. I had dismissed from my memory what it was like to have fun, to be with a man, to be wanted. I shut that part of myself off.

It would be Martin who would wake me up, bring me back to reality. Help me see what I was missing. August 1998 after 13 years Martin called. He was going to be in the area on business, asked if I would like to meet him for drinks to catch up. I was surprised by his phone call, I was even more surprised when I said yes. I searched my closet in vain to find an outfit suitable to meet him again after so many years. My closet was filled with drab, boring, don’t look at me mommy outfits. Luckily I was able to borrow an outfit from a friend. I had not been alone with a man in eleven years. Martin and I at one time were great friends, but that still did not combat the anxiety I felt. I had not spoken to him in over 13 years, what would I say? What did he want? I was terrified to meet him alone. I was afraid what I might feel, afraid I would say or do something stupid. I bribed my neighbor to accompany me on my date with Martin. I made her promise not to leave my side. Luckily she agreed.

Martin was as handsome as I remembered, even more so. Age had done him well, he looked better in his 30s then he ever did in his 20s. As I looked at him I became very aware how much I had neglected myself. I went from being a very beautiful young girl to a middle aged, overweight not so attractive woman. Martin was very open, he talked about his son, his divorce, his job. He asked me if I had ever married. I answered no. I could tell by his face he was surprised. I explained I never met the right man. I went on to explain I actually meet no men. I had not been on a date in years. Puzzled Martin asked the obvious question, why not? Why wasn't I meeting men? What was stopping me? When I answered, “I was busy being a mom”. Martin stated very matter of fact, that was an excuse not an answer. You can be a mom and date. Martin was correct, I had to accept it. For years I had been making excuses, trying to rationalize why I didn't need men. As Martin and I continued our conversation, I learned he was going to be back in October for the USNA Class of 1983 fifteen year reunion. When I heard he was coming back, in my mind, I made a pledge to be a different person by October. A better person, the old me.

Martin’s visit changed me. Seeing him made me realize I wanted my former self back. The witty, fun, good looking, flirtatious me. I began to take care of myself. Every morning after sending my daughter off to school I would run laps around the neighborhood, at first I only ran a mile, eventually I worked up to four miles a day. At night after coaching cheerleading, I would walk two miles. When I went shopping instead of buying boring cover all of me mom clothes I bought trendy more current styles. Instead of hiding my body, I found clothes that flattered my figure. By October, when the reunion rolled around, I had lost 25 pounds. Unlike the time in August, I had no trouble finding a great outfit, my closet had plenty to chose from. After the Navy football game, when I saw Martin, met his new fiancĂ©, I didn't care. Martin woke me up, he made me realize I was hiding from the old me, the real me. For the first time in eleven years I flirted with men and they flirted back, it felt great! It would be several months before I would go out on a date and even longer until I trusted my heart to someone. But that August night in 1998, Martin saved my life without ever realizing it.

I use to believe the saying, time has a way of healing all wounds. I now know that statement to be untrue. The wounds never heal, the pain, the loss never leaves completely. For a lack of a better way to describe it, over time the 'wounds' develop scabs. For a time the scab holds, life goes on, seemingly normal. Then without reason, something rips the scab open, once again exposing the wound. Sometimes the wound exposes pain, other times anger. The common thread, the underlying root of the pain or anger, missing someone you love dearly. When you lose someone you love, there is no cure, there is no healing, there is only surviving, doing your best to move forward.

For me, when the 'wound' opened back up, on a good bad day, my eyes would only begin to tear. I would thank God I was able to quickly control my emotions, hold everything in. I was able to thwart a crying meltdown. On truly bad days, there was no stopping the tears, the pain. Nothing I could do would stop the tears from gushing down my cheeks. No matter how much I tried, the feeling of loss was too overwhelming. There was no controlling the emptiness I suddenly felt. When that happened I would retreat to somewhere private where no one could see my tears, witness my pain.

There were other times when for some unknown reason I felt anger. Unexplained rage would come rushing out of me. The anger was a fury that had been growing inside of me, a hurricane of emotions that has been building strength slowly over the warm waters of the ocean inside me. I had no clue why I was angry, I just was. I was angry at Bobby for dying. I was furious at myself for still missing him. I was angry at life for leaving me alone. I was angry I had no answers for the many questions that filled my head. Dreams never realized left me pained. I learned quickly anger was always followed by tears. The anger only masked the pain that was still left in my heart. Anger was simply another symptom of sorrow.

My hope, my only salvation, was learning how to recognize and deal with the cycle of pain, recovery, healing then normal life. Learning, understanding the cycle was all part of life. My constant prayer after every meltdown, that normal life would return and stay longer. I prayed for a so called remission from the cycle I found myself trapped in. I would pray the duration between meltdowns, would last longer. I eventually learned, the more time passes, the longer remission lasts. The longer life seems to return to normal. Over time my tears were eventually replaced by smiles of remembrance. In time I no longer cried over losing Bobby. I thanked God for what little time I had with him. Now I smile and laugh when I remember Bobby.

Sometimes I knew what would cause my pain, my tears. It maybe hard to understand but there were days when I needed to cry. I needed to release all my emotions. I needed for a time to become numb in order to feel normal again. July 11, 1987, my twenty fourth birthday, I sent flowers to Bobby, Gerber daisies. The same flowers he had sent me for my twenty first birthday, I sent to his grave. I tried to celebrate my birthday, I was unsuccessful. I missed him too much. Losing Bobby was still too fresh. I cried myself to sleep reading the card he had sent me three years before. I spent the night wishing I was twenty one again, wishing I had one more chance to fix all my mistakes. Wishing, hoping, begging, praying to see Bobby one more time, tell him I was sorry, I missed him.

A few years after Bobby died, I was driving when I first heard the Garth Brooks song, "The Dance". As the music flowed through my speakers, the lyrics said everything I had been feeling, "I would have loved to miss the pain, but I'd of had to miss the dance." As I heard those words I began to cry. I could see, feel our "dance" in Pensacola. I needed to hear the song again. On the way home, I took a detour to the store, bought the album. That night and many nights through out the years I would listen to "The Dance" over and over until I could no longer cry. Drifting off to sleep dreaming of our “dance”. Even after 23 years I never know how I will react when I hear "The Dance". There are times without explanation , without reason, the song brings tears to my eyes. Other times as I listen to the familiar lyrics I smile remembering what a wonderful ‘dance’ Bobby and I shared.

Life would be easy if I could predict when reminders, the triggers of tears would happen. If life is only one thing, it is unpredictable. Random times, arbitrary places, unforeseen reminders all with the same common denominator, Bobby, would reduce me to tears. There was never a definition to explain why, it just was.

Fall of 1987, after much begging and pleading by my friends, I ventured out to a local dance club, Margarita Maggie's. True to form, I spent most of the night sitting at the bar drinking ginger ale. Last call was announced, I was waiting for my friends to finish dancing so I could say good night and head home. The DJ announced he was slowing the music down for the final two songs, the guy sitting next to me asked me to dance. I had turned him down several times previously. He said to me, "If I did not dance with him, it would bruise his already fragile ego."
Feeling guilty I agreed to dance with him. As the first slow song played I learned he was from Pennsylvania, had graduated from the Naval Academy in May. He was working temporary duty at the Naval Academy waiting for his slot in Pensacola. As he told me his life story, I could hear Bobby's voice saying, “Don't be falling for any of those Navy guys still hanging around Annapolis.”
The final chords of the first song ended, my heart stopped when I heard the familiar chords of the next song begin, "Waiting for a Girl Like You". I closed my eyes trying to compose myself, take a deep breath. When I closed my eyes, I saw Bobby's hand as he put it out for me take when he asked me to dance for the first time in Pensacola. For a moment I felt extremely lost. I became very aware tears were streaming down my cheeks. I apologized to the guy, I explained I could not dance with anyone to that song. I left one very confused Ensign on the dance floor. I grabbed my purse, without saying good bye I ran to my car. I cried as I fell asleep later. Even now, when I hear, “Waiting for a Girl Like You” if I close my eyes I can still see Bobby as we dance. Some days tears will flow from my eyes as I hear the song. Other days I smile remembering our first dance. Mostly I close my eyes so I can see him once again, remember his eyes as they looked into mine before our first kiss. I know I will never be able to dance with anyone to that song. To me, "Waiting for a Girl Like You" is our song.

A year later it would be a newscast that would cause me to fall to the floor in a wave of emotion, a flood of tears. I treasured the photograph Bobby gave me. I placed it in a beautiful burnt silver frame next to my bed on my nightstand. I was sitting in bed, watching the Sunday night late local news. During the extended sports section, they began to show footage from the Army-Navy lacrosse game. Navy had come from behind to win. As I watched the highlights of the game, a rage, anger overcame me. Without explanation, I picked up Bobby’s photo, hurled it across the room screaming, "Damn you Bobby, you were suppose to come home. Why the hell did you fly so low? Damn you!" I heard the glass break as it hit the wall next to my closet. I pulled my knees to my chest and began pounding my bed with my fists on each side of my body next to my feet. With every blow to the mattress I yelled, “Damn you! Damn you! Damn You!”
With every pounding, with every damn you, all the anger towards Bobby I had built up over the year came exploding out. I was furious with him for flying low, for crashing. I was even angrier at myself for caring so deeply, missing him too much. After several minutes of yelling and pounding, I took a deep breath, calmed myself down. I grabbed my trash can and headed over to pick up the broken pieces of the frame. The sight of Bobby, his photo, laying amidst the broken glass dropped me to my knees in grief. I began to cry as I picked up the broken pieces of glass. With each piece of glass I asked Bobby why? All I wanted to know was why? Why did he die? Why was he flying so low? Why did he take a different path back to the base? All I have ever wanted to know is why?

It is amazing how even after years of peace, an extended 'remission', Bobby will surface and once again without explanation I will cry. Sometimes I cry for only a few seconds, other times much longer.

I was driving home one night when I heard an old Bruce Springsteen song play on the radio,"Cover Me". As I listened to the song I smiled thinking of Bobby. It was hard for me to believe Bobby had been gone over 10 years. While waiting at a red light I closed my eyes to ‘see’ Bobby, as I listened to 'The Boss', but he wasn't there. I lost him, I felt him, but my mind forgot what he looked like. I panicked, I had promised Bobby I would never forget him, yet at that stop light I couldn't remember his face, I couldn’t see him at all. I felt like I had betrayed him. My eyes began to water. I had to pull over to the side of the road to compose myself.

After dinner, I went to my room, closed the door, grabbed my Foreigner cd. I turned off the lights, pushed play, then laid in bed. As the familiar cords began to play of ‘our song’, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes. At first I could only see his hand as he placed it out for me to take. Then as the chorus began to echo in my room, I could feel him, then slowly I saw his smile, I saw his eyes, I saw his face. I cried tears of joy and thanked God for letting me see Bobby once again. I thanked him for helping me keep my promise to Bobby to always remember him.

September 11th, I was watching live when the second plane hit the tower. I witnessed as the towers collaspe to the ground. Like everyone else in America, around the world, I watched the coverage non-stop. That night and randomly for the next several weeks following the attack, I began having nightmares. Nightmares I had never had before. As I slept I would see Bobby's helicopter crash. I would be standing on the bank of the Bucao River and see the wire. I would try to tell Bobby to stop, pull up. Over and over I would yell at him to stop, he never hears me. I watch in horror as his helicopter hits the wire, he crashes into the river bank. I would wake up sweating, my heart pounding, out of breath and in tears. The panic I felt was real, it left me paralyzed with fear. I would stay awake the rest of the night, afraid the nightmare would return if I fell back to sleep. As soon as the nightmares began they ended.

A month ago a friend recommended the movie, "Taking Chance". I thought it would be the perfect movie to watch on Memorial day. I was not ready for how the movie would make me feel. I cried as I watched the scenes where they depicted Chance being prepared to fly home from Iraq. They showed how the vacuum sucks the air out of the body bag. You see them place his body bag in a metal coffin, then pack it with ice, surrounding his body. You watch as the coffin is sealed, then draped in an American Flag. As they portrayed his casket being loaded on the plane I had to turn the movie off, I couldn’t watch anymore. It was too real.

Before watching the opening scenes of "Taking Chance", I never thought about how Bobby came home. Until then, Bobby died, he came home, there was a funeral. I never thought about what happened to him from the time he was killed, until 10 days later when he was buried. "Taking Chance" was a stark reality of what happened to Bobby. As I watched the movie my brain began to comprehend that was how Bobby was brought home. It was no longer Chance in the movie, it was Bobby. The realization that Bobby didn't fly home first class, no one was there to give him a hug, say welcome home. Bobby came home, zipped in a body bag surrounded by ice. He was placed in the back of a plane with an American flag draped over his coffin. He flew a long lonely flight home. He was flown into Dover Air Force Base. The last time Bobby would wear his uniform, it would not be his hands buttoning his jacket, putting on his socks, tying his shoes. A complete stranger dressed him. A stranger placed his hands across his chest. A chest that no longer had a heartbeat. A heartbeat I missed and long to feel one more time. When I turned the movie off, I went outside, sat down, looked up at the stars. Through my tears I told Bobby I was so sorry. I told him I still missed him. I was outside talking to Bobby for awhile before the tears stopped and I could come back inside, resume watching the movie.

Long ago I made a promise to myself, no more tears when I remembered Bobby, only smiles, only laughter. I could spend my life crying over what might have been or spend my life smiling, laughing over what had been. Watching, “Taking Chance” when I was reduced to tears, I was angry at myself for breaking my own promise. After scolding myself for several minutes, I reminded myself I was fortunate, I was blessed, for a short amount of time I knew Bobby. He could have picked any girl he wanted that night at the club, he chose me. Our two bodies came together for one amazing night over spring break. I was lucky enough to feel his touch, to know his kiss, have him hold me in his arms. That incredible night I discovered every inch of him as he uncovered ever inch of me. He taught me to let go, to trust again. I was able to hold his hand as the sunlight appeared over the gulf. I found a man who left me speechless, gave me goose bumps and took my breath away time and time again. For a brief moment in time, life was perfect. I discovered a side of Bobby very few people saw, knew. I did not know the son, the brother, the midshipmen, the lacrosse player, or the pilot. I knew the compassionate Bobby. The man with the gentle touch, the sweetest kiss. The man who wiped away my tears. The man who tried to let me know there was nothing to be afraid of. The man who kept his promises. I knew the man who wrapped his arms and legs around me trying to comfort me when I was hurting. He cared when I cried, tried to ease my pain. He could have walked away at any time, many men would have, yet he stayed, making sure I was okay. He had a kind huge heart. Those memories, those blessings deserve only smiles, no tears.

Promise or not, I admit I have cried quite a number of tears writing this blog. As much as I tried, it was impossible to hold back the tide of emotions as I remembered our time together. Writing about the day I learned Bobby died was the hardest. I discovered the pain is as fresh, powerful today as it was twenty three years ago. I was reminded once again how strong my feelings were for Bobby. How lost I felt when he died. I realized how much even today I still miss Bobby. I was reminded how much his family and friends have lost. When I feared I was going to be lost in tears, I tried to remind myself how lucky I was to know him. Sometimes that sentiment was enough to stop the tears, others times it was never enough to fill the void. I would have to walk away from my computer, let the tears run their course, then resume writing.

Regrets are exhausting, they can torture a soul. They can drive a sane person crazy searching for the what ifs to all the unanswered questions. Regrets or not, nothing will ever be able to answer the possibility of what might have been. After reading our story most people would assume I am filled with regrets. How does one wish to change the past with the knowledge if any one aspect was changed you would not be where you are today? There is not a moment or a day that passes when I do not wish Bobby was still here. There are things I wish I could change and others I would not.

March 25, 1987, when I sat on the dock in Annapolis crying over losing Bobby, praying for a miracle, asking God to turn back time so I could open my eyes, be back in 1984. Redo the night at Mum's. I pleaded, I begged, tried to bargain so I could spend one more night with Bobby. In my grief I would have done anything to be given the chance to correct my mistake. Tell my fears, my insecurities, my friends, tell all of them to go away, let me be with Bobby. Trust him, let go, spend the night with him, discover where “it” might have lead. Now I understand if anything had been different, if I had left with Bobby that night I would have never had my daughter. She is the greatest gift I have been given. She is the one thing I have done right. She is my pride, my joy, the love of my life. I would not change her, change anything that put me on the road to having her. I never regret having her, keeping her. There are other things I wish I could change, regrets I do have.

I regret I didn't pay more attention at the Navy Maryland lacrosse game in 1983. I wish I had watched Bobby play instead of socializing with friends. Bobby loved lacrosse, loved his teammates. From what I have learned from everyone who knew him, who played with him, he was an amazing player. I never had the chance to really enjoy watching him play. There have been times I have found myself searching You Tube hoping someone uploaded some old Navy lacrosse footage. Praying I could see him play. Watch him play in the game he loved, even if it is only for a few minutes. In Pensacola as we sat on the deck talking, I could see the pride in his eyes as he told me about his senior year in high school he set some kind of scoring record in New Jersey. I often wonder if his record still stands. Bobby loved playing lacrosse with his brothers. Knowing how happy he was to have the ball passed to him from his brother, heaven would be to see him play with them. Passing the ball between the Bianchis. Lacrosse was such a huge part of him, I would give anything to see Bobby play the game he loved so much.

The fall of 1985 when I found myself at Kevin’s party instead of avoiding Kevin out of fear of what he must have thought of me, I wish I had the strength to walk up to Kevin and ask him about Bobby. When Kevin said he was going to tell Bobby I still looked hot, I regret not asking him to tell Bobby I was sorry for being stupid, to please have him call me. I ran into Kevin several times that fall, each time he greeted me with a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He was always so sweet, yet I was never strong enough to admit to Kevin how much I really missed his brother, how much I often thought of Bobby. I kept everything inside, afraid to share. Fearful Kevin would think I was crazy for still being so hung up on his brother. To the outside world, to Kevin, I looked as if I was getting on with my life, moving forward. When I was still very much head over heels crazy in love with the man whose mere presence drove me crazy. His brother Bobby.

After throwing Bobby’s photo, smashing it against the wall I hate myself for not replacing the glass. I picked up the broken pieces, placed his photo back on my nightstand where it had been. Several years later when my munchkin and her friends were having a Friday night slumber party in my room, his photo was ruined. In the course of the girls fun, jumping on my bed, they spilled their sodas sitting on my nightstand. Knocking over Bobby's photo over in the process. Not wanting to get in trouble for being overly goofy, afraid of being sent home, they attempted to clean up the spill. They stood his photo back up, still drenched in orange and grape soda hoping it would dry overnight. The next afternoon when I discovered what had happened it was too late, Bobby’s photo was ruined. The only remaining image I have left of Bobby is in my head. I fear with age one day that too will be lost.

February 1987, Short Hills, New Jersey, when I had the feeling someone was staring at me, I regret not turning around to see who it was. I was so close to Maplewood, Bobby’s hometown. I have often wondered if it might have been him. My brain realizes Bobby was thousands of miles away in Guam, but my heart wishes I would have turned around to find him standing there, smiling at me. I would have run up to Bobby, given him a huge hug. I would have told him I missed him. I lost track of the number of times I have longed for one more hug. To have his arms around me one more time, to feel his heartbeat next to mine if only for a minute, I can’t describe how happy that would have made me. I have often wondered if one more hug would have made a difference? If it would have been enough. Would one more hug made it easier to lose him? Bobby gave great hugs. When he held me near, when his arms were wrapped around me, everything around me was lost. All I felt and heard was Bobby. The world was still, quiet.

My biggest regret was telling Bobby I had to go when he called. If I had known it was going to be the last time I would talk to him, the last time I would hear his voice I would have never hung up. I would have talked till dawn. Experience the sunrise with him one more time. I never really got to know Bobby. I would have asked him a million silly questions, the answers that one learns about another over time. What was his favorite color? Did he have pets growing up? I would have asked what the stupidest thing he ever did? How did he get the nickname B-foul? I knew he hurt his knee in football, but what game, how? I would have given him more grief quoting Bruce Springsteen to a Maryland girl! I would have asked what his parents were like? How did his mom handle four boys? Was it strange having his youngest brother going to Rutgers (I believe) and not the Academy? He said he played football, I would have asked what position? What was he like in high school? What was his shoe size? Who broke his heart the first time? Did he always wear the number 7 jersey when he played lacrosse? If I had known it was the last time we were going to talk I would have told him thank you for the best night of my life. I would have let him know, till the day I die I will never forget or regret our night together. Bobby knew he gave me goose bumps. In Pensacola as we made love he noticed I was covered in goose bumps and asked if I was cold. I told him no, he gave them to me all the time. I remember how he paused, looked in my eyes trying to read if what I had said was true. After a few moments, he kissed me passionately, then whispered in my ear, “me too”. I wish as I was talking to him on the phone I had the courage to tell him how I felt. If given the chance all over, I would have told Bobby, call me crazy but I think from the first time I saw you I fell in love with you. It may have caused him to run in fear but at least he would have known. I regret not telling Bobby how amazing he was.

A regret I have for Bobby. I wish he had children. I am so sad there are no little Bobby Bianchis running around. No trace of him is left. His blood, his genes ended when he died. He would have been a great dad. He was so laid back, had such a huge heart, nothing would have frustrated him. He would be the Dad surrounded by all the kids wanting to play. He would have had the perfect balance of discipline and freedom. He would be the Dad instead of saying talk to you mother, he would wipe the tears from his daughter's eyes when a guy broke her heart. He would have told her it would be okay. She would know it was true because her Dad told her. He would never let his kids down. He would teach them the value of keeping a promise. He would have been a great coach to his kids. When I walk around Annapolis, see the midshipmen wearing name tags that read class of 2012 etc. I find myself thinking if Bobby had a child, they would be here by now. There would be another Bianchi playing Academy lacrosse.

I suspect Bobby meant more to me, than I did to him but I am not sure. I never had the courage to ask him how he felt. Not many girls, if any, said no to Bobby, I did. That made me a novelty. From the start Bobby made it clear he wanted to know where "we" would end up. He wanted another night, another chance to be with me. Another opportunity to see if it was our chemistry or the magic of spring break. I know in my heart he was interested in me, why else would he write, call? When he looked in my eyes I could tell he liked me, I could feel it. When I talked to him the last time, I also felt he was conflicted. I am not sure why. Was he worried what the guys would think? Was he worried he would hurt me? Was he worried what his family would think? After all I had a child. I will never have the answers. I only wish when I sensed something was troubling him, I would have asked what was wrong. Maybe I would have been able to help him find the answers.

From the first time I saw Bobby, my heart told me there was something there that was unexplainable. A feeling that made me frantic, happy, anxious, and scared. The times we were together in person or on the phone, when I relaxed, when it was only the two of us, I felt complete. He had a reputation as a ladies man, a charmer, a womanizer. Bobby may have been, but with me he was not. He had so many opportunities to walk away, forget me, yet he didn't. When I was hurt, when I cried, he stayed, he wiped away my tears, held me until the tears stopped. He wanted to make sure I was okay. Bobby was an amazing, genuine, sweet man. He was talented, athletic and extremely handsome. He was the perfect catch or as he wrote, the much better catch than any other man out there. Some people may laugh, doubt me, think I am crazy, but I understand now, in Coronado when I first met Bobby, for me, it was love at first sight. Extremely scary when you are supposedly in love and dating another man. Bobby turned my world upside down and at the time I did not understand it. I believe Bobby knew and understood why I was scared, why I was confused. Time and time again he would ask what I was afraid of, tell me to relax. He tried to assure me I would be fine, we would be fine. He understood, time held all the answers. I needed to trust him, trust what I was feeling instead of being afraid. Now I understand what I was feeling, how he was trying to help. He said on more than one occasion, "he knew". Now I understand what he knew, what I felt.

Bobby is still with me, he always will be. He is not as constant as he once was when he first died. Bobby sleeps silently in my heart, laying dormant for a while. At times he will come back to life, stay with me for a while. There are days and nights when I swear I can sense him. I can still feel him pull on my heart. I feel Bobby most when I am at the beach. At night when I am alone, when everyone is fast asleep, I sit on the deck gazing at the stars, the moon. I sit waiting for the sunlight to slowly appear over the ocean. I prop my feet up on the railing, close my eyes, feel the ocean breeze wrap around me. In the still of the night I swear I can feel him sitting next to me, smiling at me with his crazy grin and gorgeous eyes. At times it feels like Bobby is still here, like he has never left. I know he is not really with me, it is wishful thinking. There is no explaining what I feel, how strong it can be at times. Delusion or not, when it feels like Bobby is with me, I am happy. Whatever it is, always makes me smile.

My biggest fear since Bobby had no children in time he will be forgotten. He will become a name only, no longer real. No longer the amazing man he was. People will lose sight of the wonderful person he was. I hope by writing this blog, everyone will come to know Bobby, to see him as I did.

Bobby, Robert T. Bianchi, was a wonderful, good man with a gentile caring soul. He may have passed on but his character, his essence will live on as long as people remember him. He gave so much to me, I hope this blog in some small way is a gift to him. That others who knew him, are inspired to write, tell their/his story.

Maybe these blogs will become a kind of legacy where Bobby will always be remembered and loved.

Laughter, smile, tears, pain, heart ache, I would do it all over again, in a heartbeat, without a second thought. Bobby was worth every tear, every heart ache.

Lt. Robert Thomas Bianchi...Bobby, you are larger than life, you are the perfect catch. You are one hell of a man. I am the luckiest woman on earth having known you.

I miss you dearly!!


  1. Denise, I cannot tell you how much I cried reading this. Your emotions and feeling so mirror my own right now. My 4th nail just happened and I do not believe I will ever get over this one. Thank you for shareing this beautiful love story.

  2. Thank you for sharing. This is an amazing love story. As I read your story I have laughed, I have cried, I have felt every emotion.
    This is such a wonderful tribute to Bobby. I only hope his family has the chance to read this. As the mother of a son, it would warm my heart to know he was loved so much by such a caring person.
    I really hope you consider writing more, expanding the story and making this a book. It is such a beautiful love story. I could even see this on the big screen. Your story is that amazing. I can feel your love for him coming through in your words.
    Thank you so much for sharing. I know I will be coming back to re read this story. You inspire me.

  3. This is my third time I have read your blog on Bobby. Your journey has become my favorite novel. Every time I cry. The love you have for Bobby is remarkable. I wish someone loved me half as much as you love him. It is evident that you still love him even after all this time. You shared a love few people ever experience. I wish I had the chance to meet Bobby. For you to love him that much he had to be amazing. You have a gift, you need to share this with more people.

  4. Thank you for the wonderful comments I really appreciate it. Cyndi I wasted so much time convincing myself that men were all bad, they aren't. The 4 nails, really were only 1. Time allows you to see things the way they really were, Martin kissed a girl, but he didn't really cheat on me. When I had first met Bobby 2 months earlier I fell in love with him. I tried to ignore the feelings but my heart was already gone. In Pensacola, after I saw Bobby, I know I was distant to Martin. He had no clue why, so I don't blame him for kissing Dorothy. The 2nd nail, Bobby leaving, I was angry at him for dying. He didn't leave me, he died. Life is about living and dying. We want the ones we love to live to be a ripe old age. We hope and pray to grow old together, marry, have children, grandchildren. Unfortunately fate had another hand for me, for Bobby. It was unfair for me to be angry at him for so long. I have asked him many times to forgive me. My high school friend, he was right to stop. At the time I thought wanted to be with him, really I just wanted to stop being lonely. If we had crossed the line, I would have been embarrassed later on. We would have lost our friendship. A friendship we still share to this day.
    The only man who wronged me/my daughter was her father. I don't know what was going through his head or heart at the time but he made a decision he has come to regret. It took me a while to forgive him but I did. We are all human, good people make bad decisions. It took him 21 years to realize his mistake ask for forgiveness. Now only time will tell where their relationship will go.
    The greatest gift you can give yourself is to forgive. Time is precious, don't make my mistake, and let time pass you by.
    Pain/heart ache is unfortunately part of life.
    Laugh when you are happy, cry when you are sad, most importantly just keep pushing forward. Life is a wonderful gift meant to enjoy not miss out on.

  5. Thank you Meghan for the photo. It is not the same one I had but it means the world to me that you sent this to me. Please do not worry that it is grainy, the scanned image is perfect. I emailed you the answers to your questions. Thank you again!:)

  6. I heard about this blog on facebook. I had to stop reading at work, no one understood why I was crying so much.
    After reading this I wish I could meet Bobby.
    They are correct above, this is very moving, so much better than any novel I have read. I am sorry you had to go through everything but am thankful you are sharing your experiences with us. I can relate on several different levels.
    Please consider publishing this. It is an excellent read.

  7. Wow is all I can say. Very powerful, extremely moving.

  8. Heard about this on facebook. Past two days at work when it has been slow I have been reading your blog. I was afraid I was going to get in trouble when I started crying today. Now it is Bobby blog day at work, my boss and all my co-workers are reading your blog. Amazing. I have never cried from reading or seeing anything. I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing. This would be a great movie. I am not sure how you would do it, but find someone in hollywood. Nicholas Sparks has nothing on this. LOVED IT!!

  9. Thank you all for the kind commments. I have heard a lot of people tell me they have read the Bobby Blogs at work. I am very thankful no has gotten in trouble. If I attempt to publish the blogs in a book format I will be sure to post it on my blog.
    Thank you again for reading my blog.

  10. Because of the heat I decided to stay in. A friend of mine on facebook told me about the Bobby blogs. When she told me I would cry my eyes out I didn't believe her. There have only been a few books that have brought me to tears.
    My friend was correct it has been years since I have cried this hard. My husband walked into my office to find me balling my eyes out wondering what was wrong. All I could mutter to him, it is so sad Bobby died. I had connected that much to your story. You are so open and honest with your feelings, your mistakes, you loss. Very few people share your courage. I am going to start crying again as I write this.
    You have given Bobby a great legacy, your love and your story.
    I concur with every comment above. Share your love for Bobby with more people, you need to make this a book or find someone to make this a movie. I know I would buy the book and see the movie.
    Please be happy.

  11. God Bless you Bobby Bianchi. My heart cries for both of you. I can't express everything I am feeling now. Your story touched my soul.

  12. Amazing, heartbreaking, sad, crushed, despair, anguish, deep sorrow, thankful for your true devotion and never-ending love, All the adjectives I have felt reading your story.
    Bobby must have been a wonderful man. I am thankful I got to meet him through your story.
    Thank you
    God Bless you both.

  13. I have never cried so hard in my life. Beautiful story with such a heart breaking ending. I hope you find the answers to the questions you regret not knowing, I hope you find a picture you can hang on to. Holding on to the little things, like a picture of s smiling loved one can carry you through the roughest times.
    Thank you
    I will say a prayer for Bobby.

  14. I don't think I have ever cried this hard. My heart is aching. This is a very sad yet touching love story. My eyes are still tearing up. So very heartbreaking

  15. Wow. If ever I needed a hug it is now. My soul weeps for you. I believe Bobby may have been your soul mate which is why it hurt so deeply and still does. It is s feeling I have had over and over while I read your memoir about Bobby. I am sure many other people have had the same feelings. God Bless you and rest assured you will meet Bobby again in heaven. I see him waiting for you.

  16. What a touching story! I feel like I know so much more about Munchkin's mom and how deeply caring she of a person she is. Thank you for sharing this huge part of your life and what you've learned through it all. You've always been so supportive of Munchkin and I know she loves you dearly for it. Also, you mentioned that when Bobby called he said he saw someone that reminded him of you? Did you ever think he was home on leave in Jersey and that was him in the parking lot? It just stood out to me :)

  17. Thank you Roxanne taking time to read my blog, our story means the world to me. I am thankful that my munchkin found such a wonderful group of "sisters" at Frostburg Unviersity and AST. I have always felt a little guilty that Kathryn was an only child. I always thought I would have three or four kids. I use to worry who would be there for her if anything happened to I don't worry I know she has wonderful sisters like you.
    In 1987 when Bobby called I thought it was a cioncidence that Kristin and Cheryl thought it was Bobby and a few days later he called saying he saw someone that looked like me. For three years it seemed like something always happened, chance encounters etc., reminders, to pull us back together. It was easier to think that he was in Guam, I am afraid it probably was Bobby that night, but I am not positive. It was many many years later I was at a Navy Football 1984 tailgater, it was strange how a random person, someone I did not know brought up Bobby. In the course of the conversation he said thank God Bobby had a chance to come home and visit his family shortly before he died. It hit me like a ton of bricks, the realization that it might have actually been Bobby that night in Short Hills, filled me with such guilt I had to walk away from the tailgater so no one would see me cry. I remember throwing up in the bathroom at the Navy Marine Corps Stadium because of it. Knowing I had a chance to see Bobby, hug him one more time overwhelmed me. Almost twenty four years later it still can. After the tailgater, everything fell into place in my mind, why he asked me what my work schedule was, joking around about calling in sick, me saying I would never do that. I needed the job to pay all the bills, take care of the munchkin, I was too new at my job I couldn’t risk losing it. I had to be a responsible adult now etc. He was still unsure fishing for what to do. I think after my answer, he didn’t want to say he was in New Jersey. Bobby knew I would call in sick to see him and possibly lose my job. He would never let that happen. I don’t know, I can never be positive. I need to believe we missed each other by a week or two and he randomly saw someone that reminded him of me in Guam, the same time it happened to me in Jersey. Who knows maybe the last phone call was God’s way of answering my question, did he still think of me, did he still want me, was he okay with my having a daughter. The phone call, the letter answered some of the questions I needed answered. Without those two wonderful gifts I would be so lost not knowing.

    I have never asked anyone when Bobby was home in 1987, I don’t want to know. It is much easier believing that he was in Guam when he called than New Jersey. There are no regrets, no pain if he was in Guam. New Jersey hurts too much to believe. I hope that makes sense.

    I wish he was still alive, you all would have loved him at Frostburg. He would have been right there responsible but having fun. He would have been a wondeful influence on munchkin. He promised he would always be there no matter what happened between us and I know he would have.
    Oh well we can not live on what ifs, only what was. He was a wonderful man who I still miss.

  18. excerpt from your blog:
    "My biggest fear since Bobby had no children in time he will be forgotten. He will become a name only, no longer real. No longer the amazing man he was. People will lose sight of the wonderful person he was. I hope by writing this blog, everyone will come to know Bobby, to see him as I did."

    Bobby B was my best friend in the world....NO WAY would this ever happen regardless of your blog, which I thank you for writing by the way. We are all touched by Bobby in a special way and our lives are different, or at least the way we live our lives are different because we knew him.

    Who are you? I was as close to Bobby Bianchi as one could get without being in his skin and I don't know you.

    Jack Francis

  19. Hey Jack,
    I don't know you either? How did you know Bobby? You read my blog, it pretty much tells you how I knew Bobby. I was the spring break fling that could have been more if I hadn't been such a fool.
    He was a great guy!! He saved me, one day I might be able to tell the entire story. He was a good guy. I was just up there visiting him. I miss him. I know call me crazy ...

  20. I knew Bobby in High School. He was one of the nicest people I ever met. You capture his spirit very well; he was good looking, charming, caring, athletic, funny - an all around good guy. I remember well the day I heard he died and can't see that picture of him (the one on each blog) without feeling sad that he's no longer with us. He had a huge spirit and made a big impression on all who knew him. Worry not, he will not be forgotten.

  21. Thank you so much. I am glad I was able to capture his spirit. Bobby changed me in ways I will never fully be able to describe. One look, one touch, one night and I was never the same. And yes same as you, I look at the photos and I am sad, he had so much more to offer. But I am happy, you should be too, we are the lucky ones, we knew Bobby, he was a part of our lives even if it was for only a short while. We are better persons because of him.

  22. my name is rick i was stationed at marine barracks subic bay co. b at the time of this helicopter crash.i was part of a squad of marines that were assigned the duty of providing security while the crash site was cleaned up.there is not a day thats gone by over these last 26 years that i havnt thought about the lives cut short by the horrible accident that occured on that day. i saw a helmet with the name bianchi on it and at that time i had no idea the name would stay with me so long.i remember watching the news on the day of his brother

  23. accident and just standing there with a tear in my eye and lump in my throat.i feel so sorry for you and his family. but always remember that i will always remember him god bless you

  24. Thank you so much Rick! Thank you for remembering Bobby and thank you for your service.