And then suddenly a song comes on and I see bits of
Texas Hell, and I am crying again, whispering to you, “How can you just be gone?”
I think back to the many nights spend in the homes I have known you in since 1989. I remember how we would usually go out to dinner. I always finished first, especially after you had your jaw broken and wired shut. Even after you were back on solids you would eat slow. We would have a drink or two, much less than we always set out to do.
Back to your place we would go. Staying up all night smoking, lightly drinking and talking. I remember sitting on the floor in front of the TV, or in your room on your bed, with the tv on, talking. Talking and talking for hours on end about everything in our lives, past, present, and hopes for the future. I remember talking till my eyes were rolling in my head, not wanting to fall asleep on you because I might miss something.
There was always that feeling with you. I have to get it all in, out, said heard, because I might miss something. I’d always fall asleep first. You would always sleep longer. Those are the hours I would get on whatever computer you had and fix things. You can’t connect to your router? No problem, I’ll call Comcast and pretend to be you. I know enough about you I am sure I can answer their questions. I would, and you would wake up later, we would have coffee, and I would lecture you about your computer and your children’s use of it. Oh, and passwords. “Mel, password is NOT a safe password!”
I can see your peaceful face, sleeping though your alarms, your ringing phone, your children screaming and then your eyes would open and the day could start.
This used to always be my song. Every bar I ever tended in, customers would play this for me, but now when I hear it…I hear a song and it makes me think of a girl I used to know, I sing along when I hear it the radio”
I miss you.