A Tragic Story

        In Loving Memory
        Doug Bell
        13th of July 1972, Missisauga - 13th of June 1997, Georgetown.

        By: Jose van Lieshout

        LOVE, LIFE AND LOSS ON THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON.

        Douglas William Bell was born on the 13th of July, 1972. His mom, Carol, was seventeen at the time, and his father, Bill, an alcoholic. They had two more children, Billy being the youngest, and Lisa the middle child. Bill and Carol tried to keep their marriage together, but due to Bill's heavy drinking, they failed. When Bill finally left, Doug became a father to his siblings. Living in Missisauga, they were poor, and times were tough.
        When Doug was 12 years old, Carol met his future stepfather: They didn't get along from the start. Ron stepped in dominating them all with an idea of dicipline the Bell children didn't agree with. Then another son, Thomas, was born, and the financial side of life got a bit better. Carol went back to school, graduated, and now both she and Ron had a good income. But the new and improved financial situation did not improve the rivalry between Doug and his stepfather. He left home at the age of 17.
        Doug's new independance brought less stress, and life on the street wasn't all that bad. He and a friend moved into a basement suite in the house of a single woman who had five children. They ate together, watched television, everyone got along and all was well. But then that lady met a man too, and he too made it clear they were unwanted, so they left. A few months later the man was arrested for molesting the children. Appearantly he didn't need witnesses.
        As time went by, Doug got into the so-called "wrong crowd". He did B & E's, then bankrobberies... He had a girlfriend for a few years but they broke up. After that he got involved with a married woman. She claimed she and her husband were seperated, and were in the prosess of getting a divorce. She got pregnant, making Doug believe the child was his, so he started getting his life in order. He was looking for a job and even a house. When the woman finally confessed the baby's father was her husband, Doug's dreams fell to pieces. All he wanted was a normal -and above all- functional family. He felt he missed the boat, yet again.
        Now that he didn't have a family to take care of, Doug went back into the crime thing. An older ex-con talked him and a friend into doing banks with him. Then a girlfriend/stripper of one of the guys was scorned, and in return she went to the police and told them everything she knew. When they hit the next bank, the cops were waiting for them.
        During the interrogation Doug heard the usual stuff about being raped in jail and how they would know what to do with a young guy like him. He got slapped around a bit, but he knew better than to rat on his friends. So, when he refused to testify, he took the blame. The old guy got 4 months for breaking his parole, the other one was off the hook, and Doug got six years...
        A year and a half before he got parole he received a letter from a 16 year old dutch girl. She got his address through Inside-Outside, a Dutch organisation that seeks penpals for American and Canadian inmates. That girl was me.
        We fell in love within two letters. Sometimes you just meet someone who seems to have been a part of you all your life, but you never knew something was missing. Our letters were short, we didn't have to tell each other much. A half word was enough, and we both knew the things that had happened to us without even talking about them. Sounds like I'm a hopeless romantic, or even sentimental, but it was there, and I can't explain it either. I just know I miss being part of a whole.
        Doug never told me much about "inside life". He didn't want me to worry, I guess. I did worry anyway. In the 40th letter, which was written six months after we first met, he asked me to marry him. I told him no, since we never really had met, and for all we knew it might not work out once we had. Both of us wanted to do it though, but then there's still a little thing called common sense. So we just kept on writing like we had been.
        We were looking forward to the 8th of January -1997- like it was the day paradise would come to earth. Doug called me from the GO Station, and neither of us could believe he was really, REALLY out. I'd been saving up since we got serious, so now I could book a flight to Toronto...
        I had never been more nervous in my life than the time I spent getting myself to Canada. Pearson Airport was buzzing with noise and for a second I thought I'd never find him in that place. Then he just stood there. I put my arms around his neck, and said "I thought I'd never get here!", and kissed him. I hadn't even met or seen Lisa, or her boyfriend, Dave. We drove to Georgetown, me and Doug in the back, squeezing hands to see if the other was real. We didn't say much, he just kept asking me every three minutes if I was happy. And he kept asking me that for days.
        We lived with Lisa and Dave during the weekend. Doug found us a bachelor appartment we could move into on Monday. It was next door to Lisa, in a building that was once a postoffice. I loved it. It couldn't 've been more perfect, or appropriate for that matter. Carol gave us some old furniture, and the rest we got at the Salvation Army down the street. Thomas gave us a sleeping bag. It came in handy 'cos we were both blanket hogs.
        During the day Doug would go to school, and later on, to work, and I'd keep the house clean. Especially on Tuesdays, because that was when his parole officer came by. When Doug came home, we'd go grocery shopping, or we'd go to Lisa's or Duane's place. In the evening Doug'd make his homework, and I'd read. Thomas played Ice-hockey and Lacrosse, and we'd go to his games.
        Duane was a drugdealer. We both knew that (So did the rest of Georgetown). Neither of us used, but Duane did try to get me hooked on speed or something. I laughed off his offer of a free sample. There was something I didn't like about him from the beginning; I just wasn't sure what it was.
        I stayed with Doug for two months. Just before I left we had been talking about how bad we wanted to get married. I had to go back to Holland first, to get the papers ready and all that sort of stuff. We were laying on the bed, listening to the radio, when we finally decided we couldn't wait. Doug took a ring of mine and put it on my left hand, saying the vows. When he came to "Till death do us part", I stopped him. I made him promise to stick by me after death, and I'd do the same for him, depending on who would go first. It wasn't like we would stay single, but more like a guardian angel type of thing. Back then I thought it'd be a long, long time before we'd be seperated by death. I had woken from a nightmare once, and in a half-sleep panic asked him not to die. He told me not to say things like that, that he wasn't going to die. I wish he had been right on that subject. But he wasn't.
        On the first of May I flew back to Holland. Doug wasn't well that day. Neither of us could deal with us being apart again, but he was taking it really hard. I tried to stay, to take care of him, 'cause he was definately losing it. I had to go anyway, and I did.
        When I joined the queue at Customs everything inside me was screaming to stay with him, but when I looked over my shoulder I couldn't see him anymore. When I got to the lounge it was announced that there was a 15 minute delay. Fifteen minutes we could've spent together. I still regret not going back. I left and arrived back in Holland.
        On the 14th of June, Lisa called. It must've been three in the morning in the Toronto area, and I wondered what was going on. Lisa told me there had been an accident. I asked her if Doug was alright. Did he break something? Was he consious? And then she told me he was dead. I started screaming "No!" and "Tell me it isn't true!", but she couldn't.
        He was found in Duane's bathroom with an overdose of drugs in his system. Doug wasn't a user, that was common knowledge. There was something fishy going on here. It wasn't suicide, because he knew I was coming back a month and a half from then. He had his graduation to go to. Was accepted at two colleges. We were going to move to Brampton, and get officially married as soon as I got back. Right now I'm still searching for evidence of manslaughter. I hate Duane. I never felt real hatred before. I thought I had, but God, was I wrong! Doug was my first, in a lot of ways. He treated me with respect, love, care, and he was all I could ever want. And now he's gone. We had a cat, Misha. She's living with a family I don't know, but I hear she's fine. So, Doug is dead, Misha's gone, and I'm in Holland wondering why I didn't listen to my instincts, and stayed.
        Christmas is coming up soon. The two Christmasses that Doug was in jail we'd talk about what our first Christmas was going to be like. I was going to put up mistletoe all over our appartment, 'cause I liked that tradition: we don't have that here in Holland. We'd go for diner at his family's house. Carol is a great cook, and Ron and Doug got along better since he got out.
        A lot happened since the 13th of June, when Doug was one month short of being 25. I went back to Georgetown for a week, and Lisa, Billy and Carol were very kind to me. I have some of Doug's clothes and posessions. Lisa's belly was really showing then: she gave birth to Cameron Kyle Douglas Vogan on the 13th of October, a healthy baby boy.
        We keep in contact sporadically, and it feels like they are my siblings now. I love them like they are, if that counts. I've written Inside-Outside again, and they gave me another address. I found a great friend in Alberta, and he's been a fantastic friend through all this.
        I still love Doug. I wear my engagement ring, my wedding ring, and the silver tag with his name on it. I have a small tattoo, a black heart and five black dots. (Doug had five dots on his hand, a homemade tattoo from when he was in a group of five friends, in Toronto.)
        It's ironic; he had so much pain in his life, and I was amazed at his capacity to forgive those who had screwed him over; and just when everything was going to be alright, just when we both were really, truly happy, he died. Yeah, I still love him. With every heartbeat.
        Update:
        The hate I felt towards Duane isn't as powerful as it was. Can't say he's my favourite person in the world, but all I hope now is that he's clean, and thus can fully realise what part he had in Doug's passing. Misha is living with Lisa and her family now, where I know she has a good home. As for me, I'm still thinking about Doug a lot. Months have gone by, and I still love him as I always have. It gets easier to bear, but I still miss him badly...
        Feel free to E-mail me, at josevltilb@hotmail.com. Comments are always welcome.
        Miss Jose van Lieshout


        With thanks to:
        Wayne Carlson, for editing my story.
        My parents, who stood by me, and supported me all the way.
        Hilde Schlosar, for listening.
        Julie Murphy, for being company on the road of grief.
        All of the people who knew and loved Doug. You know who you are.
        And last but not least, Doug himself, for giving me wings, and his precious love.

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