early Sunday morning, 12 February 2006 [12:15 a.m.]:
Keith –Well, I guess I lied – I didn’t go to bed when I said I would and spent the dawning of the twelfth out looking at the stars.
When I went out there, I think I saw a shooting star out of the corner of my eye. If I did it will be the first since I saw that one when Warren was driving me down to Picton.
The moon is full, again it seemed to wax so quickly. There are quite a few clouds and it is quite still – you can even here the crickets chirping – something you don’t normally hear here in Auburn. I felt you loving me back – it was almost as if there was a physical pressure, like a 44-gallon drum of honey, being poured over and flowing down over me. We’ve always been able to reach out to each other, haven’t we? It was nice to feel you close, especially today.
So now you have been gone from me for one whole year – and I don’t miss you or love you any less then I did back then. Today I was marvelling at the way my hair all started falling out last year – if anyone would have asked me, I would have said that I wasn’t stressed, just sad, but my body told a different story.
I think last year I was in shock at first – I said that I knew you were dead, but my heart and head just hadn’t gone along with it. That’s why I was able to give that student presentation on the 18th as if nothing had happened and in spite of the fact that I had those e-mails from Don M the night before. A part of me knew, of course, but most of me just couldn’t accept it.
I wish that I could play some of my music but I still haven’t bought a new sound card. I want to listen to ZZ Top and some of the other music that reminds me of you – like that Uncle Kracker song that we liked. I’ve got the iPod, of course, but I really want it blasting out of the speakers and making stuff on my desk vibrate. Damn, damn, damn that I don’t know what ZZ Top song you played on your pickup truck stereo on the 9th.
By now one year ago, Ken would have packed his stuff and left. You were brave, and selfish, too, to send him home and carry on alone. I know how and why and pretty much when and at first I couldn’t believe it, it didn’t seem like you at all – after all “you can never fail if you never quit”. I’m sure some people would have thought that you quit – I guess in some small way I think that you did, too. I don’t blame you at all though – it’s that “walking in your moccasins” thing. I know that if I had been with you, I would have helped you and we could have worked out some way of keeping me one step ahead of the law. I don’t want to be as strong as I am but I am and I know that I would have been a help to you – it just upsets me so to think of you being there, facing it alone. Well, not alone in spirit for there was Jessi and Don and Ken and Clayton and me, all with our hearts and minds tuned to yours and giving you the strength you needed. I’m pretty sure that Alison wouldn’t have agreed to it but it wasn’t her call – God knows the woman is pretty damn controlling at the best of times. I’m sure just the very idea of it really yanked her chain. I don’t know if I could ever be close to her no matter what may happen in the future and in spite of the love that I used to feel for her. She didn’t do the things that you asked her to do and that doesn’t sit very well with me. I try sometimes to see the similarities between you two but I come up empty handed every time. Oh, well, doesn’t matter, I don’t have to have anything to do with her.
One other thing bothers me about that night – do you remember Christmas Eve and you were in a terrible mood and you had to drive down in the night to Vancouver and the roads were terrible with ice and snow? I remember you started out on Highway 97 and I wondered why you had to travel in the night. I couldn’t ask you because you were in a cranky mood and said that you didn’t want to talk to “people”. That night I sat up for hours – I was your guardian angel that night. I hovered over you every kilometre of the way and watched as you made your way along the road. I wonder now if you could feel me with you then – I never thought to ask. I was so close to you then. But the night you died that didn’t happen even though you would have needed me. I was upset, sure, and all strung out from spending the day in Chinatown and thinking constantly of that flight on Air Canada that I had been booked to be on. I would have made the dash from the airport at Van to the Greyhound depot and gotten to 100 Mile House a little after 3. I would have been smiling tentatively on your porch by a quarter to four – instead, I was stuck here in Sydney feeling completely impotent. You got what you wanted but I’m pretty sure it was a mistake – too bad we don’t have a second chance.
OK – enough negative stuff. I’ll try to be nicer next time. Just know that I’m doing pretty good, considering. Remember when you asked me if I was going to be all right without you? Well, I promised that I would and I think that I have been. I know you don’t want me to grieve but I can’t help it. Somebody told me that the deeper the grief, the more the missing person was loved. I love you very much and it shows. I don’t seem to love you so much in a romantic way anymore, it’s changing. You are more and more my mentor, my hero, my teacher, my best friend. Of all the men I’ve met in my whole life; I love you most and I respect you most. Our relationship was great for both of us, we both got so much out of it and it meant so much. Do you realise how empowering that was for me? I deified you and yet you took the time to be good to me, to teach me, to show me that I only deserved the very best. Apart from Warwick, you are the best thing that has ever happened in my life.
So I’m going to go now and do what I said I was going to do hours ago – get ready for bed. Thank you for coming to me when I was in the backyard watching the moon. It’s good to feel you close like that again, it’s been awhile.
I hope I dream of you tonight – would you dream a dream of me? I’ll be your Tiger and you can be my Grizz and whatever one of us needs the other will have.
Always and forever –
- your Susan
posted by Susan @ 1:15 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home