On the morning of August 30, 1997, I left before the dawn to get
in a memorable 47-mile ride before she flew in. I forgot to wear a helmet (because it was dark when I left) and cool morning air was in my hair,
the milky sky had a dark purple hue with dark red and orange tints, and
a beautiful song kept singing in my head--"The Morning of My
Life". It was so beautiful, that whole ride, prophetic, I hope. In
the churning clouds was doom, stirring around me, and
preparing to reach down with its red, blood stained claws, and tear me
apart. The kill was about to be made, or at least a good thumping.
I admit I missed Miimii. Her pictures were all over my room.
When she arrived, she was beautiful, and had a strange smell of
vanilla which was very attractive. I wear cologne now that
reminds me of that smell. I felt somewhat energized about US--perhaps if we spent quiet time away from everything, we could make this
marriage work. I was very lonely and could've easily had an affair in
Texas, but I stayed totally faithful...although at this point in the
marriage, it was getting very hard.
Miimii was too tired to go to Mexico, so we ended up napping in my
room (deja vu), and then we went out with Bill and Deborah. We returned late
that night and when I turned on the television I was engulfed in an unfolding
news story. Diana, Dutchess of York had been in a horrible traffic accident in the Pont de L'Alma tunnel in
Paris .. I was glued to live television while Miimii was uninterested.
Then she died. For the rest of Miimii's visit I was very quiet, in a mild shock. It felt like there was a little less hope in the world without Diana.
When Miimii left the next day, I drove to the edge of the runway and waited
25 minutes, standing next to my car, I watched her buzz over my head,
and into the sky
...and I said goodbye to my wife.
