Apologies to Douglas Adams, but it does always seem to be Tuesdays that suck.
Once upon a time my wife and I were sitting in an airport restaurant on a layover going from I no longer remember where to someplace else I cannot recall. Next to us was an older black gentleman sitting by himself. As often happens in this types of situations we ended up engaged in conversation with him.
At some point he told us he had just buried his mother. He was sixy-something so she must have been ninety-something. As he caught himself getting emotional he stopped himself and apologized.
My amazing wife told him not to. She told him that she enjoyed hearing about his mother and that she wished she could have met her. Then she said something that stuck with me. “Talk about your mom, that’s how you keep her alive.”
My wife is cool as fuck.
I’ve been thinking about that thing my wife said the last day or so. I saw on social media that a friend of mine had died. We weren’t particularly close anymore. Time, life, and distance had come between us, but none of that dulled that ache that comes when someone good is not a text or phone call away.
I met Kerry shortly after I moved to Ohio back in 2000. She had that whip smart sense of humor that I love and she was a gentle soul. I adored her almost immediately. I worked in the field and she worked in the offices so I would only see her sometimes, but every time was a highlight of my day.
She made me smile.
She was my friend.
A few months after meeting she worked up the nerve to ask me if I would be her plus one to a wedding she was attending. She felt the need to preface it with an almost apology that way that people who have been made to feel like less than for so long they start to believe it often do.
“Of course I’ll go with you! I may even drag you out the dance floor.”
She pointed to her cane and made a mock sad face.
“Then I’ll dance and you’ll stand there.”
And you know what? We had an absolutely wonderful time. We laughed. We talked like two catty bitches about what everyone else was wearing. She even got on the dance floor once.
There was a time some years ago, long after I had left Ohio, that she was in need. I posted about it and so many of my friends stepped up to help her. I really wasn’t sure who, if anyone, would. But I should have known that my awesome friends would help another awesome human. She messaged me to tell me how amazing you people are. And to tell me that she loved me. And that I was a good guy.
Being told I am a good person by someone as good as Kerry… well, that is one of those little victories in life that you hold onto when you start to doubt yourself, you know?
I will miss you, Kerry. You were one of the best and I wish I could hug you one last time. I promise to keep talking about you.
