Orientation (a Widow's Experience on Long Island for Thanksgiving 2009)

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Without us even knowing, we rely on landmarks, scents, and sounds to orient us to a particular place. The smell of the evergreen, for example, might remind you that you are back home in Washington State. The ringing of slot machines as you disembark in McCarran International Airport confirms that you are back in Las Vegas. For me, when I am traveling on the Grand Central Parkway and I drive past the old Unisphere, I know that I have returned to Long Island.

The Unisphere stands twelve stories tall in the middle of Flushing Meadows Park. Built to withstand rain and ice, the stainless steel globe remains a landmark to anyone traveling between Manhattan and Queens. When it was constructed for the 1964 World's Fair, it was meant to build upon the fair's theme of "Peace through Understanding." The Unisphere represented the need for global interdependence (as it related to the promise of the space age). Now, more than 45 years later, I merely use it as a visual cue to let me know that's it not much further to my parent's house.

This Thanksgiving was my first trip back to Long Island since Cindy's death. The trip, for me, was bittersweet. While I was excited to see my parents and childhood friends, I could not help but feel reduced in some way to be there without my partner. For several years, Cindy was more than just a girlfriend I brought home. She was treated like a daughter by my parents. My sister considered her a sister. If it were legal in our state, Cindy would have been my wife. I had a life and a future planned with Cindy. I am 35 years old. Now what? Downgraded.

Normally, when Cindy was with me, as soon as we got off at the Willis Avenue exit from the Long Island Expressway we'd make a beeline for Vincent's Pizzeria to get two slices of regular and a couple of Diet Cokes. On Black Friday, we'd get up at 6am to walk over to the Radio Shack in the Waldbaum's Shopping Center to take advantage of the sales. And, when Cindy was still smoking, I'd invent elaborate excuses to sneak her out of the house so that she could get a few puffs off her cigarette. Don't get me wrong, I never condoned her smoking. But, Cindy in the throes of nicotine withdrawal was not a pleasant experience (trust me). This Thanksgiving, I did none of those things.

Each morning I woke up on Long Island this time around, it took me a few moments to get my bearings. I am sure other widows have experienced this. It's not that you are completely disoriented and don't know where you are. But, there's a piece of you that is hopeful that you are waking up from a long dream. That maybe this is the day where you finally end the nightmare. This actually occurs no matter what city I am in--I turn over in the bed, stretch out my arms, and after I confirm that Cindy is not next to me, I spend the next several minutes trying to figure out how I am going to make it to the end of the day.

On my way out of town, I took 495 West towards midtown Manhattan. As I got closer to the city, I could not help but remember how often I traveled these roads as a child with my family. And I recalled how the view of the New York City skyline never failed to amaze me. The Chrysler Building, the Empire State Building, and the Twin Towers stood out amongst all the other nameless buildings to me. Interestingly, one of the coming attractions shown at the 1964 World's Fair was a model of the World Trade Center. The original purpose of the Trade Center, which was to bring together entities involved in the business of world trade, seemed a perfect compliment to the Fair's mission, which was to highlight "Man's Achievement on a Shrinking Globe in an Expanding Universe."

As I drove towards the skyline this Saturday, I thought how disorienting it must have been for commuters used to seeing those two towers every morning on their way into work. In the days, weeks, and months after the Towers fell, who else traveled these roads hoping to see these buildings magically reappear? How many people, like me, used the skyline to orient themselves while traveling in New York City? Who else relied on the Twin Towers to tell them whether they were correctly heading downtown? And what could we rely on now?