Every October, Bob starts to feel it coming. He can almost smell to the point of tasting it. The worry, the fear, and the quiet feeling that early November is near. Each year, he is surprised at how quickly it arrives. It has been 28 years since his life changed forever, the day Dana, his fiancée and true love, died. The night before she was going back to Cal Poly San Luis Obispo for her last weeks of college, she kissed him goodbye and said that in three weeks, they would never have to repeat goodbye. Those were the last words she ever said to him.
The next morning, November 13, 1990, disaster struck. Just outside Bakersfield, another car made a sharp turn, hitting the back of Dana’s small car and sending it out of control. An 18-wheeler coming from the opposite direction crashed into her car. She died instantly. Her car and the truck ended up in flames on an elementary school playground. Every year, Bob relives the final weeks and days before her death. As painful as the memories are, he knows they are necessary. Without them, what would be left? November is both comfort and torment, a kind of mental torture that is hard to explain. But those who have lost someone they loved can understand.
The pain feels strongest on November 8, the day Dana came home to Bakersfield for Veterans Day weekend. That Thursday evening, as it does every year, the memories come back in full. The weekend, though it ended in tragedy, had been wonderful. From the evening of November 8 at Ching Yen on Columbus Street, every day of that weekend is clear in his mind. They laughed, went out, and made plans together. For Bob, that weekend shows perfectly the life they shared over almost four years.
The mood was happy and celebratory. Dana was about to graduate, and soon they would begin their life together in Bakersfield. On Friday, Bob closed the paperwork on what would have been their first home. The rest of the weekend, they spent time imagining and planning how to make that house into their home. Bob hates that time takes away so many memories. October 1990 is now blurry and fading. But the five days from November 8 to November 12 stay clear and precious in his mind. They are both a blessing and a curse. Starting Thursday, he will replay that final weekend in his mind again. The comforting memories fight with the pain, day after day, until the morning of November 13. Then he will be reminded how quickly it all ended.
Just like that, Dana was gone.Gone forever. For Bob, the hurt ran deeper than losing Dana. It was also about losing the future they had planned. He thought about the house they never moved into, and all the dreams that suddenly ended. He missed the small things most. The exact sound of her laugh. The feeling of her warm hand holding his. They quietly talk about what their life would be like. He held onto every little memory they made. These memories made him feel as if she were still close, in a way.
Even after twenty-eight years, it still felt very recent and real. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her smile and almost hear her voice. Every November, all these memories would come back with a vengeance. They brought him love, but they also brought pain. He remembered their happiness and all their plans. On the day she died, he would quietly remember her. He held tight to the love and the memories because that was how he kept her with him.
