Posted by: morrowsl | January 9, 2019

In His Deepest Dream, The Gypsy Flies

This year is nine days old and already it’s pummeled my heart to a bloody pulp.

And it’s not as if there wasn’t enough bludgeoning done already. We’ve been on a months-long losing streak that has taken my mother and my daughter-in-law’s dad. We said goodbye to Holly, our Siberian Husky. We lost half a flock of chickens.

Admittedly, the chickens are the least of our losses, mostly because they are chickens. A two dollar purchase, weeks of feeding and care that resulted in an egg every day or two. But I got attached. I named them. I diligently cleaned their coop daily.
And I ended up losing half of them in less than four months.

The dog was a bit more expensive, in terms of heart loss. Holly came to us as a short-term guest and just never left. By the end of her life, she and Mike were best friends. The decision to let her go was not easily reached. It was the only humane thing left to do.

My mother was a long-time traveler. Her health was amazingly good until it wasn’t. It was sort of like watching a battery being drained of power. Eventually, her ability to sustain life simply vanished and took her with it.

Ed had been up and down, health wise. He had some issues that were being treated. He had gains and losses. Success. And then failure. He was on a bit of an upswing and had been traveling, making memories and checking off bucket list items. Then he fell and broke his leg. He was here one day and gone the next.

I had come to terms with those losses and had given in to 2018. Okay, I said. You’ve done your damage and I realize it had to be. On New Year’s Eve, I went to bed begging 2019 to be a good year.

And then, the phone rings and the voice breaks and there’s another person’s life suspending in time. Mike jotted down the address and we made plans to visit the hospital.

His real name was Stephen Pomeroy. We never called him anything but Knucklehead. He was the oldest nephew of Mike’s work-wife, Sue, who has been one of our dearest friends our entire married life. When we met Sue, Stephen was just an event that hadn’t yet happened in his family. We knew him his entire life. All thirty-six years. It was not enough time. None of us was ready to let him go. Least of all Sue.

When I walked into his hospital room, I knew he was already gone. The machinery was keeping him breathing and warm. But his soul was perched at the closest exit point, ready to fly.
I stood there, looking into blue eyes that held no reflection. I remember thinking that he had to longest eyelashes of any man I’d ever known. And I hoped his little girl had those. I didn’t talk to him. There was no need. Anything I needed to say had been left too late. So I kissed my fingertips and touched his cheek and said a prayer for his soul as I left.

Even if we manage not to lose another person in 2019, it will still be a shit year.

Out on the Cosmic highway
There’s a bright white brilliance
Screaming across the black void.
He is a part of the Universe now.
And the earth is a much darker place.

Godspeed, Knucklehead. I will forever miss your laughter and the way you could charm a smile from the least likely face. It wasn’t always easy to love you, but love you I did. I can still see you doing handstands in the sand, knowing full well your ass didn’t belong over your head.

Until I see you again. And I will. Skibbitybo!

 


Responses

  1. I do believe that the frequent losses that come with aging are the worst part of growing older. I would gladly take the aches and pains if I could just not lose anymore people. And knowing I am not going to last forever, the best person I can think of to do it, would be for you to write a tribute for me!! Love your words…and you! ❤

  2. The thought of having to do this without you just isn’t one I can have. So, we go together. Or not at all.
    I love you, Bestie. Just in case I don’t say it often enough. ❤


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