TheBanyanTree: Tonight's Story

[Pam Lawley]

I find myself wondering how Cece is doing...  wondering what's up with her
disabled daughter... her older children....

On Thu, Mar 27, 2014 at 1:31 AM, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com>wrote:

> I have a friend. She's a friend of a friend who became a friend. She used
> to live in Hollywood, the Hollywood, and was married to a guy who was big
> in the Scientology thing there. I met her once. She's a down-to-earth women
> who's happy with living simply, and she didn't care for the Hollywood
> religion.
>
> Years ago when I was broke she insisted I had to go to California to see my
> grandfather, who was 100 at the time. "But Cece," I told her, "I really
> can't afford to."
>
> "You're going to come see him," she insisted, "You and Andrew both. You'll
> stay here, and you can borrow my van, and I'll pay for the plane tickets."
>
> And she did. She wanted to do it because she wanted us to see Gramps, and
> she had the money, and she was insistent, and so we went.
>
> We stayed at her house, we met her family, her husband just for a second,
> her disabled daughter for longer. Her disabled daughter, in her teens then,
> told me I was too old for Andrew, and that he should go out with her
> instead. Cece had her hands full with that one. She had other children, but
> they were mostly grown and elsewhere, probably free spirits like their
> mother.
>
> We saw Gramps, and he and Andrew had a good talk.He was slower, and seemed
> tired, but was in good spirits. It was indeed the last chance we'd have to
> see him -- several months later he was gone, shortly before he would have
> turned 101.
>
> We were so grateful to Cece, but she would not entertain the idea of being
> paid back. She was just happy she could do it for us.
>
> Not too long after that Cece left her husband and moved into the wilds of
> California. She'd had enough of his Scientology, something she was in only
> because he was, and she refused to belong anymore. Contact with her became
> intermittent. She usually was far from Inter Webs, having to trek into the
> nearest town to get it. She was free and unfettered, and she moved in with
> a guy named Terry, a veteran with PTSD, into his trailer out in the desert.
>
> Every so often we'd hear from her. Sometimes she'd drunk dial me,
> incoherent and rambling, but still full of love.
>
> Then Terry, the love of her life, blew his brains out while at his desk,
> while she was in the next room.
>
> When I am at my lowest I think of how Cece found him when she heard the
> shot, and I know I could not do that to anyone I love.
>
> Today Cece posted pictures of her trailer, pictures she'd taken when she'd
> returned from the hospital, where he was pronounced dead.
>
> And there was blood sprayed on the wall, and pooled on the floor, and even
> at a distance of several years, and in a picture, you can see the pain, all
> the pain Terry had bottled up inside, until he let it loose to run over the
> desk and the floor and the walls. Pain is a deep dark red, mostly, once
> it's been released anyway. Before that it can be any color, but when it
> comes out, it's red.
>
> Cece, being Cece, didn't explain the first set of pictures adequately, even
> though she did say that's what she came home to after Terry was taken to
> the hospital, so people were responding with things like, "OMG Cece! When
> did this happen?" "Are you okay?" "What's going on?"
>
> Then she posted pictures of what it looks like now. She has a sense of
> peace there, despite it all. I know she's fallen in love since again, and
> maybe out of. It's hard to tell with Cece. She's mercurial, and what's here
> one day may be something else the next.
>
> She's a lovely spirit, floating through her good times and bad, giving
> whatever she has to give and not giving it a second thought.
>
> It's been awhile since I've had a drunken call from her, but she claims
> that we helped her greatly.
>
> I know she helped me greatly.
>
>
> M
>