For Annie

18 years ago this month, my friend, Annie, went missing the day before her college finals.  She ‘left’ two small children on this earth and a husband, Tommy, who became the primary suspect in her disappearance.  He was later tried for her murder, because of the evidence collected, without her body ever being found. Tommy was only convicted of forgery, which took place when selling her truck after her disappearance. After doing a short stint in jail, he retreated to his home state of Alabama, leaving Annie’s mother to raise her two children (one of them being Tommy’s biological child) alone. Annie and I did not communicate with each other for the two years leading up to her disappearance, largely in part, because of what I will assume, became the controlling ways of Tommy.  I should have pushed harder to stay connected with her.

I was a bridesmaid in Annie and Tommy’s wedding party. My association with this wedding has become one of the biggest regrets of my life. 

Annie was a beautiful, vivacious, 25-year-old woman.  Tommy was almost twice her age, a bartender in the restaurant that Annie, myself, and a handful of other college girls waited tables at, located in a popular tourist destination with great beaches.

When Annie first told us that she and Tommy were getting married, it took us all by surprise.  She had moved into his condo, with her 18-month old son, out of ‘convenience’ we had all been told.  She and Tommy had only lived together for one month at the time of this announcement. The group of us, including Annie’s sister, and the other girls, didn’t even know that anything romantic was going on between them. Needless to say, we were all shocked, even though Annie and Tommy had known each other for a few years.

We were all aware that Tommy had some serious issues.  He was a Vietnam veteran who suffered from blackouts, night terrors and he had a problem with alcohol. An ex-girlfriend of his had made claims that Tommy had been physically abusive toward her.  Despite this, I considered Tommy my friend and all of these things caused me to be concerned for him.  I had admired the service Tommy had selflessly given to our country and knew he must have been through a living hell. I wanted this relationship to work out for Annie and Tommy, and I went ahead and supported the union, because Annie so desperately wanted me to.

Annie’s wedding day was beautiful, except for the painful black eye she had that was caused the night before the wedding at her bachelorette party. We had taken it upon ourselves to entice Annie into a tequila drinking contest and she ended up falling flat on her face.  Well, not flat.  She hit a door frame molding on her way down.  Annie walked down the aisle the day of her wedding to Tommy with a pretty, sequined, white satin, eye patch.  Annie looked gorgeous anyway.

Lately, in the wee hours of the morning, I have very realistic dreams of Annie laying in my bed beside me, as we talk like the best of friends do.  I lay face up and stare at the ceiling as we talk, not wanting to look over at her in my dream, but I catch glimpses of her from the corner of my eye.  I can see her platinum blonde hair, but I am afraid to look into her crystal blue eyes.  I can actually smell ‘Sand and Sable’ in my dream, the perfume that she wore and always sprayed on in the bathroom as we changed before each shift. That scent has always reminded me of the beach (the same scent washes over me often, even when I am awake, as if my sense of smell is having its own dream.) My impression of these dream encounters, once I am awake, is that Annie is trying to tell me something held within the small talk we make.  I talk to her as if she knows my kids.  She does the same.  We update each other on ‘things’ as if she is still alive. We talk about books.

I am a skeptic when it comes to ghosts and spirits, the paranormal. That is why I am calling these events ‘dreams’. After all, they do take place while I am asleep.  You can imagine how uncomfortable the thought of calling them anything else makes me.

I have kept these dreams of Annie, largely in part, to myself.  I have tried to analyze them.  I have come to a few conclusions. What I have learned from them is absolutely priceless.  It’s all about two things: instinct and trust.

Since these dreams started, about 6 months ago, I find myself letting go of my children more and more. Just in the sense that I want them to know that I trust them.  Letting go of them will inevitably not only grow the trust between them and I, it will also help them to further develop their own instincts, a very important skill for all people to have, but especially for kids these days. 

I am a hovering mother.  I know this and fully admit it.  I am trying lately to change this moment by moment, while still keeping a comfortable grip on life, my sanity and, yes, a grip on my kids.

I can’t help but think if Annie and I had listened to our instincts better and trusted them more, things might have been different. I know that at some point, she knew something was dreadfully wrong, and probably didn’t listen to her own inner voice.  I assume this because I knew her well and despite her independent streak and the common sense she possessed, I think she felt unsure of herself at some point in her marriage to Tommy, maybe even before the wedding.

I now know, more than ever, how important letting my kids spread their wings and begin the process of finding themselves is.  One would think, as I so vividly recall the life of Annie, that it would have the opposite affect on me. The result being the creation of some neatly constructed cocoon for me and my two babies. It has not.

I think the ultimate message in Annie’s visits is to push me closer to the edge and encourage me to jump into the process of trusting my children wholeheartedly, as wholeheartedly as it is possible to trust a 14-year-old and an 11-year-old. Annie always did that for me.  She pushed me outside of my comfort zone.  She didn’t always tell me what I wanted to hear, she told me the truth, she was authentic, and because of that I trusted Annie with my life.

I want my children to trust themselves, their instinct, their little voice. They can only do so with my support, with my trust, with me letting go of them. I hope my children will always feel good about their decisions, their instincts.  I feel good about my instincts as I enter into this new chapter of parenting and to my friend Annie, wherever you are, my sincerest thanks, love and trust.

 * the names in this blog have been changed