Don Queco

Recency is a compelling force behind priming effect.  In communication theory-speak, priming is something we’ve been exposed to already that triggers us to respond to something later.  For example, early studies tried to see if people watching a movie in a theater would be more likely to get up and get a coke or popcorn if there were extremely quick flashes of a coke or popcorn during the movie.  While these experiments didn’t really work, there is a line of research dealing with priming effect, showing that it can occur.

Anyway, today’s post deals with something very recent, and therefore something that has been on my mind a lot the past couple of months… and priming my line of thinking on just about everything.

July 4th, 2009

I met Don Queco (named changed) a little over two years ago on an online dating website.  After meeting my ex-husband online, I swore never again.  However, being a busy single mom who has my children all the time other than every other weekend doesn’t allow me many opportunities to get out and meet men.  I’m not complaining, the dating scene is just a lot more complicated than I remember it being.  But anyway, Don Queco and I hit it off immediately.  Instant connection on every level.  Over the course of two years, I have enough memories to talk about him on here for weeks.  But sufficeth to say, for now, that I was certain he was “the one”.  I had prayed about it, and felt very strongly we were meant to be.  When things didn’t work out after 9 months, I was devastated, but came to the conclusion the timing was off, and in the end, we’d be together.  We stayed best friends, even when we weren’t dating.  I’d never had a best friend like him.  It was so awesome. 

Last summer, about a month before I moved to start grad school, he confessed that the year before, when he’d told me he didn’t love me, he’d lied.  Which meant he’d done the opposite of my ex… who had told me he loved me when he really didn’t.  Don Queco confessed this about the same time he essentially proposed to me.  Horrible timing, as I was about to go back to school, and I just didn’t think I could trust him.  After I moved, I told him, look, we’re right back to where we always are… you treat me like I’m more than a friend to you, we talk all the time, spend all this time together like nothing ever went wrong.  If we’re going to do this, let’s do it.  Otherwise, I need to let you go so I can move on.  His response was let go. 

I was devastated.  But I did it.  I deleted him from Facebook, deleted Yahoo chat off my computer so I wouldn’t see him on there, and I stopped talking to him.  When I saw him over Christmas, I felt awkward (plus I was finally dating someone else) and tried to keep my distance.  Then at the beginning of February this year, I felt compelled to start talking to him again.  Finally over the guy I had been dating who broke it off two days before my birthday in January, I sent Don Queco a text to see how he was doing.  Over Christmas he’d seemed different, maybe more down.  He’d suffered from depression most of his life, and I guess I was feeling concerned for him.  We texted a few times over the next couple of weeks, including on Valentines’ Day.  His last text that day was “another day in a hole”.  I responded with “It’s just another day for you and me in paradise.”  If I’d only known.  If I’d just known what would happen later that week, I would’ve made the 2 hour drive to visit him a couple weekends before like he’d asked.  But I’d just been too busy with homework and he said he couldn’t come down to visit me because he needed to go grocery shopping.  All day?  I figured I’d see him once boating season rolled around again.

Thursday, a few days after Valentines’ Day, I finally came to the realization that many of the issues I still had because of a couple of people in my life were not going away and would never go away on their own.  I needed some help.  As part of this, I also took responsibility for the part I’d played in my dating disasters since my divorce… mostly that I’m very emotional, not trusting and get really scared because I don’t want to be hurt again.  But I know this lack of trust and roller coaster emotions affects the men as well.  So, I sent an e-mail to Don Queco (and the guy I’d been dating at Christmas) apologizing to them, in case there was anything I’d done that made them uncomfortable, was inappropriate, or that had hurt them.  Saturday, I got the phone call.  I’ll never forget it.  His sister, crying so hard she could barely form the words said, “We found him” (no one had been able to get in touch with him since Friday around noon).  My first reaction was relief, as I figured he’d just gone camping with his friends, shutting out the depressing world like he’d done in the past.  Then she said, “He shot himself.”  Again, not making the connection, I figured he’d been a goof and shot himself in the foot.  Until her next words, “we’re waiting for them to come take his body away.”  Then it hit me.  Shock turned to freaking out turned to shaking and crying as I tried to throw a few things into a bag before driving up there to be with his sister.  One of his best friends texted me and I called him.  We shared our shock over what happened.  We both knew he’d suffered from depression, but we just didn’t ever think he’d do it.  Don Queco had mentioned to me before about how he’d do it.   But my ex had suffered from depression, and had never killed himself.  I worked at two different TV news stations and heard about suicides all the time.  It still hadn’t prepared me for my best friend killing himself.

I think I cried more that first week than I did after my ex left.  I still had so many unanswered questions.  Did he ever really love me, or did the depression mask his ability to love me?  Did he know now how much I truly loved and cared about him?  Why did he do it?  Why wasn’t I inspired to do something that would stop him?  But what haunted me the most was did he love me?  This has always been my question.  My ex didn’t love me.  The other guys I’ve dated haven’t loved me.  And now I may never know.  Does this mean I’m unlovable… in that marriage material kinda way?  Is there just something terribly wrong with me such that men can’t love me in that way?  These questions unfortunately still haunt me and I’m still working on them.  My counselor suggested that if Don Queco could sit down next to me now, more than two months later, he’d probably tell me sorry, that he did love me, and loves me still, and appreciates everything I did for him… for loving him.  But as I told her, the truth is, he can’t sit down with me and tell me that.  So whether he feels that way or not, who knows?  It’d doesn’t help me down here.  After watching Hereafter with Matt Damon this weekend, I really wish there was someone who could talk to him for me so I could once and for all know the truth, and find some closure.

Obviously, I am still dealing with Don Queco’s death.  And I’m sure it will take a while.  I also know he left a lasting impression on me.  He weaved a permanent pattern into my life’s tapestry.  As time passes, more people and experiences will continue the unique pattern, but I like to picture a special area that is all his, and will always be there.  Below is the poem I wrote, and amazingly read through without falling apart, at his memorial service.  

Our Story

“Nice curls.”

Those were the first words you wrote me.

And thus our story began.

From the first kiss

you once declared as perfect,

to the final “let go”,

our story was made in heaven

full of highs and lows

yet our friendship

never ceased to grow.

You drove 20 minutes late one night in a snowstorm

to see if I was okay.

When I didn’t answer the door,

you didn’t give up-

and came back the very next day…

Valentines’ Day.

You brought eggs and sausages

shaped like X’s, O’s, and a heart.

We went couch testing,

played Reece’s Pieces hockey,

you tried to pick my nose,

and I made you fart.

You also showed me an important truth that day…

about why my ex left… and that it really wasn’t me.

You dated others,

but our story didn’t end there.

We took my kids

to Krispy Kreme

where you tried a hot unglazed donut-

and you weren’t impressed,

so you tried to get the cashier

to give you an official hat…

for free.

We embarrassed you

on your 30^th birthday

with a huge banner across your house…

and you tried to chase down

the guys who rear-ended me and took off…

and you were still looking for them a year later.

You took me boating

for the first time,

and taught me not to fear the water.

You pulled me out once

after one of my many falls,

when I also hurt my back.

I was there

the first time you went back to the temple…

I held your hand so you wouldn’t be nervous.

You were there

the day my ex got re-married... for the first time.

You were going to take off work that day

just to be with me.

I was there

the day you got your ex’s car back…

when you insisted on getting a

mechanic to look at it

even though we still

had a long drive back home.

You were there the day

I got a flat tire…

and had to admit that I,

a 30-year old college graduate

did not know how to change my own tire.

But you didn’t make fun of me.

I was there

the day you cried

when you sold your first car…

and every day after you tried to convince me

of a man’s undying love for their first car,

and desire to never part with it…

including you.

We took your dog for walks,

sat in the backyard

Don Queco's dog

throwing his ball,

and trying to soak him

with the sprinkler.

You talked about

how expensive everything was,

and how you’d rather just save your money-

except for a drinking fountain

you’d put in the kitchen.

We watched planes zoom overhead,

and blasted Black Eyed Peas

down Ogden’s main drag.

You trusted me for three weeks

with your dog and house…

which I cleaned… and cleaned.

We cuddled,

and kissed,

and you ate way too many things

that made you sick.

I can still hear you saying

“Oh my goodness”,

hear your laugh,

and see your eyes sparkle

as you and Don

ride the waves… holding hands.

I can still feel your arms around me

those days

I just didn’t want to leave…

and go home to an empty house.

Just admit it… you couldn’t get enough

of my rear-end

and I couldn’t get enough

of your motorcycle.

You tried to pick my nose

(again… and successfully this time)

and I peeled skin off your back after a sunburn.

It didn’t matter

how much time had passed,

whenever we got together,

we was like peas and carrots-

or in your case,

Tater tots and Tony’s pizzas.

The last time we went out,

you took me up a canyon

on your bike.

It wasn’t long after

your proposal,

and not long before I moved.

You made me laugh

when you tried to find somewhere to pee…

where I couldn’t see you,

but where the wind wasn’t blowing the wrong way.

It was so beautiful that night…

with the sunset and clouds.

I never wanted it to end.

And I wanted to cry,

knowing I was leaving soon,

wondering if we’d ever

share another perfect night like that,

and knowing

I’d never stop loving you.

Even though you’re gone now,

our story isn’t over.

I’ve learned so much,

tried new things,

and made so many friends,

all because of you.

The effects of all you’ve

given me

will be felt by many people

for the rest of my life.

And I fully intend

on seeing you again

8-7-10 on Willard Bay

when I get to the other side.

You owe me a steak dinner,

since my ex has now been married

longer than seven months this time around.

And I hope you’ll

have a motorcycle waiting

for one last ride

into the sunset…

our happy ending.