The Obituary of a Relationship

I want to talk about a relationship.  Not about a person, or two people but the uniqueness of a very special relationship. 

When I was in high school, I had a boyfriend the whole time.  Never had to worry about having a date to a dance, or going out on a Friday night, or who I was going to kiss at New Years.  If I had a day off of school for parent teacher conferences or something, I would go to his college classes with him, and hang out for the day in Akron. 

I remember one time I was in a macroeconomics class.  I suck at math, so I was sure this one would be over my head.  The teacher was this not very tall, very scruffy with a full beard, guy with a heavy accent that I didn’t not recognize with my white bread upbringing. 

He explained things so well, that when my boyfriend and I had lunch, I said to him, “I understood everything. Give me a problem, and I can do it.” He laughed and slid his homework paper to me and I proceeded to do several problems before his next class.

That was in 1986.  Let’s jump to 1988.  I was involved in my universities International Programs. I lived in the international dorm, and I was the head of a few committees.  One title was event planner.  We had small events like coffee hours and huge events like conferences with other universities, and cultural festivals. 

I had a picture of me at a party with a group of good friends that we had made that year.  Some were from Ohio State or Akron U, and us from BG.  I knew everyone in the picture except the guy standing next to me.  We were dressed almost the same.  White button-down shirt, grey vest, and baggy black pants.  I asked a couple of my friend who he was, and no one seemed to know anything other than maybe he was Vinod’s friend.  I folded him out of the picture when I put in my photo album.

A few years later, Vinod had finished his PhD, got an awesome job in Cleveland, and bought a huge house in Aurora.  He invited a few of us over for dinner to see it.  It was the biggest house I’d ever been in.  The dinner was catered Indian food.  I ended up sitting next to the guy in that picture, so I asked him his name.  Guru. 

He and I hung out like crazy. I don’t know what it was, we just did. Everyone said “He’s so dark, and quiet.” I thought he was just philosophical. He had always wanted to get into yoga, so we went to our first class together. It was a drop in class in Hudson. We went every Wednesday and then to Yours Truly for a light dinner after. He wanted to go camping, so we went camping. He bought a BMW motorcycle and we rode, and rode and rode. All those country roads on the far east side were well-traveled by us.

We would go to some desolate field or park, lay out a blanket, just watch the stars forever, and talk about Doors lyrics, Osho books, or just stay quiet. He quoted both, all the time.

One time, we went to the Geauga county fair, kind of by accident.  It was there, so we turned in.  We were walking around eating a pretzel or whatever, and he said, “I bet you $100 that I can go all evening without wanting to touch you.”  I thought that was weird because we didn’t really touch.  I mean riding the motorcycle, or laying on the blanket, or watching movies, but nothing romantic.  So we were walking through the horse barn and he handed me $100.  For a second, I was confused, and then I got it.  “I didn’t make it.” He said.  And I just laughed kind of confused.  Then I watched When Harry Met Sally, and understood everything.

One time Vinod had a HUGE Indian party at his house with live band and everything.  It was incredible.  Someone lent me their sari, and wrapped me properly.  Then I had some jewelry from the last time Guru went to India and brought it back for me.  I was decked out for this party.  So decked out, that people I had known for years, had no idea who I was.

One time there was a HUGE New Years party, but Guru was in India for his father’s death. I ate some samosas and got horribly, violently ill. I threw up and then dry heaved for about 13 hours, all the while paralyzed, but I could hear. This is when I found out how allergic to curry I was. Julie took care of me. At this point, I had my own bedroom in the house, and also, so extra clothes. She got me out of my clothes, and changed. Called my mom, who told her to give me a benedryl (which I always carried in my purse), and I was completely fine in about an hour. But I had completely ruined Guru’s mattress, and they had to throw it out.

Guru had his mother come visit that spring.  He asked me to teach her English, so began my career of ESL teaching.  One time, he called me late at night and asked me to come over.  “I think my mom has Malaria.  I need to take her to the ER.  Can you come with me?’  One time he had to take her to Chicago Airport, “Can you come with me?”  He had to go to Athens, Georgia in a day, “Can you come with me?”  I never said no.

One time he had to go to Amish country for some event nearby.  Of course, I went.  I loved Amish country.  We stayed in this adorable B&B in the middle of nowhere, and then we went to a Sikh Diwali event. 

We went to lots of Indian events and parties.  He brought me back clothes and Jewelry from his trips to India just for these occasions.  I loved the dancing, music, and the food.

One time, the dentist gave me some penicillin type of medicine for my tooth and I broke out in hives, all over my body. It was horribly uncomfortable. I remember calling him and asking him if I could take an oatmeal bath in this big deep round tub. I could sit immersed to my chin and feel relief. He kept coming in to check on me. He couldn’t see anything because of the oatmeal, but it made me a little uncomfortable. But when I got out, I was so much better, and we watched When Harry Met Sally, and drank smoothies. We would quote that movie for years.

We used to take his motorcycle to Blossom to see different concerts.  The first was Harry Connick Jr.  The concert was amazing, but so was the torrential lightening and thunderstorm at the end.  I was sure we were going to die on the way home.  It usually took 45 minutes, but it took us over three hours that night.  We were soaked to the bone, but couldn’t stop celebrating the fact that we were alive.

We practiced all these new meditations he would read about.  There were so many big, peaceful rooms in that house.  We could meditate, he’d play the tublas, and we’d drink mango lassis.  He said. “Shakespeare said, ‘all the world’s a stage and we are but mere players.’  What do you think about that?”

I thought for quite a while and said, “I don’t want to be a player, I want to be a director!”  He laughed so hard at that.

Then my brother was getting married, and I asked him to be my date to the wedding.  At the same time, he asked me to make a resume for him for a new job.  As I was typing some things up, I see he has down that he was a macroeconomics teacher at Akron U.

“That is so weird!” I told him. “I sat in this macroeconomics class in 1986, and the teacher was amazing!  I really understood what he trying to teach.  Maybe you know him.  He had a really heavy accent and a thick beard.  He smiled, left the room, and came back with his Akron U ID.  That teacher was him!  He had just arrived, so his accent was still heavy, and apparently facial hair was his thing at the time.  He was the same age as his students, so he wanted to appear older.

You can imagine going to my brother’s wedding was strange.  My ex-boyfriend from high school was in the wedding also, and here I am showing up with his teacher.

The most unusual part of this relationship was how we would learn new things about tantra or the kama sutra, and plan to practice them.  The first time he brought it up, we were in a car going breakfast, and planning a trip to a state park.  He said he had just read about some new technique, and I said, I guess we should practice it.  His whole face changed.  He never in a million years expected that.  

That New Years, he got invited to a party at the house of a coworker from his new job.  He asked me to go with him, so I did.  The party was all women.  He was the only man invited.  I’m pretty sure they didn’t expect him to bring a date.  I was at least ten years younger than the youngest of them, and every woman in that room was not happy that I was there.  He whispered in my ear that we should say we have to leave early, to which I quickly agreed.  We went back to his house, and that night, is when we finally started the romantic part of our relationship. 

I lived in Cleveland, and he lived out in Aurora, so he actually decided to move after a while.  He had to go back to India for month, and arranged for me to meet him in NYC when he came back around New Years Eve.  We had such a better time, than I did when I went with friends in July a few years earlier. 

One time, he want to try camping.  We both brought single tents.  By the time we got down to Wolf Run State Park, it was pouring and dark.  He bet me $5 he would have his tent up and be helping me before I could get mine up.  I was inside, and dry in 5 minutes insisting that I don’t help him.  I think it took him about 20 more minutes.

On usual days, I was working 3 jobs, and he had his one medical statistics job.  I’d come home to watch the baseball game, and he’d be making dinner.  We’d laugh at the role-reversal. 

He was away for a week running a marathon in Virginia Beach, and I was raped, in my house, in my pajamas. I didn’t leave that spot on the floor until he came home. I don’t know how long. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. He just sat with his arm around me for a long time. We were so ok with just being quiet.

We didn’t have problems coming or going. I went to Alaska and Arizona, he went to India, and Paris. For one Valentine’s Day, he had a conference in Philadelphia, so he brought me for those few days.  We did all the touristy things, and it was perfect.

We went camping all the time, meditated together, took our yoga classes, shared books, cooked good food, shared big secrets, went jogging, and just explored all these paths together.  I learned in a meditation, that I had known him in a past life, and that our lives had intertwined more than once.  He believed that he picked Akron University so randomly, that it was actually to find me.

And then, he lost his job.  I was still working three jobs and finishing my degree at Cleveland State.  He was constantly trying to start some new business, and I Tried to help him and support in as much as possible, but I watched him become a kind of conman.  It became toxic.  He’d take his unemployment money and buy designer jeans, cologne, and leather shoes, but not pay any bills.

Then, he started sitting in on my Personal transformation classes.  It’s like someone sitting in on your therapy.  It was horrible and uncomfortable for me.  I finally asked Dr. Royster to ask him not to come.  That’s when Dr. Royster taught me a new word, “disservice.” Guru was doing a disservice to me.

And then he cheated on me, lied, became violent, and I kicked him out of his new penthouse apartment.  Just left his stuff outside the door.  His car got repossessed as he was trying to get his stuff.

I needed a huge cleanse from that.  That New Years, my closest girlfiends and I all rented a cabin. I burned his stuff and my rage and resolved that this would be our last lifetime together.

Then I graduated, joined Peace Corps, and came back, and became a social worker.  Great job, new car, beautiful apartment.  And he found me, on some social media.  I don’t think it was Facebook in 2002.  He was writing a book and he needed an editor.  I invited him over, and felt nothing, so I said I could do it.

For three years, I was his editor, PR person, and basically, his girl Friday.  He actually called me that.  His mother lived with him, and she hated me.  She was afraid he would marry an American (not even knowing that we had dated for 8 years). 

We would go all around to promote his book, meditation, and yoga classes. My favorite place was Lakeside. He had a friend who was chef there. We also went to all the Indian programs that he organized as the president of the Indian Community Association. Every India indepence day, holiday and musical group was on my social calender.

One New Years, neither of us had anything else to do, so we drove around Clevleand looking at the lights, and then came back to his place and watched an Eddie Izzard special. It was the first time I had ever seen him, and I laughed so hard at “cake or death” that I fell off the couch. We quoted him for a long time after too.

One time he was in Paris on business, and he asked me find him a new apartment.  One time he called to see how everything was going.  He called me everyday.  This day, I was in the Asian grocery store buying stuff for green Thai curry that he loved, for when he came home.

“How was yoga this morning.?”  He asked.  Rita was teaching that morning.

“I didn’t go today.” I told him. 

“You know what? You’re a waste!  Just drop my house key off.  Forget it.  Forget everything.” He said angrily. As he was saying it, I started putting the groceries back. I didn’t let him get to me anymore.

“Ok.” I said matter of factly, hung up, and on my way home I left his key in the mailbox. 

I didn’t go to that yoga class because I was on the phone all night with my soon to be husband.  I went to five different yoga classes a week. Eventually, Guru wanted my help for something and called me again. I think he hated that he needed me.

After I got married, Guru’s mom was suddenly ok with me, and Guru and my husband got on like brothers.  Guru had a health food store and my husband helped him with growing wheatgrass and stuff.  They did a radio program together.  It was weird.  Then Guru got an arranged marriage.

We lived in the same neighborhood now, and all hung out again, like old times. He loved our children.  He used to pop over and I swear, he forgot it was my house.  He was there to hang out with my husband or play with my kids.

When my husband and I separated, I had to got to government offices to apply for child support and daycare vouchers.  Guru happened to stop over with his wife. I asked if they could babysit.  I was just heading out, and I could take the girls with me, but it would be easier if they could just watch them for an hour.  They were happy to.  “Its sure weird to be here without him around.”  He said, as if he mourned my ex.  I ran my errands and came home to my youngest sitting in the high chair with a whole apple in front of her. She didn’t even have teeth!  It made me think back to the time I was sick, and he made me Campbell’s soup, without adding water.  I’m glad we didn’t procreate.  He would’ve driven me crazy!

Then, I got divorced, and got cancer, recovered, and moved to China.  He got divorced too.

He sank into some deep debt, shady deals, and messed up conman stuff again.  We didn’t really keep in touch when I left, I heard that through friends.  Just like last night, when I heard through a friend that he had died.  He’d been in the ICU for several weeks, and Covid finally took him. 

As I checked his Facebook page, I saw that he was anti-mask and anti-vaccine.  He always thought he was smarter than doctors.  He was like a snake oil salesman pushing alternatives.  Which is probably why he stayed away from me when I had cancer. 

I’m much sadder than I thought I would be.  I guess I’ve technically known him for 35 years.  I’m still in the shock part of grief, but I also know that I put it in to place that that is it for us.  Osho said that love and hate are two sides of the same coin.  Indifference is the opposite of love.  I’ve been working for years to reach that indifference.

Please, PLEASE, wear a mask! Get vaccinated! Please don’t make others write obituaries and mourn not just people, but times, eras, all these memories. I have no one else on this planet who knows these things.