“Hear my soul speak: The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service”
William Shakespeare “The Tempest”
Steven David
12/26/1966 to 10/15/2007
The very first moment I saw you, I felt drawn to you. You walked up to the desk where I worked and leaned over, wearing that tie that had flying pigs on it. I looked at you and knew there was something there. I had never felt that before. I know you remember how I harassed you in those first few months. I would have followed you to the ends of the earth.
I was so selfish then. I don’t even recognize that girl anymore. She left long ago, thanks to you. A lot of the things I said and did then I am completely ashamed about. You were such a good man and I took advantage of that. But I could never leave you. I couldn’t do it, and you know I tried. I was yours.
I remember all the good times. The silly things you used to do. Remember when you’d drive around with that face, the one where it looked like you were trying to eat a huge, invisible hamburger? The looks you’d get, we’d laugh so hard. Or the time you drove around on Cinco de Mayo in that huge sombrero and yelled out “Ole!” at all the passing cars. How you imitated my laugh, that never failed to make me giggle. Or our private joke when we were watching a show or movie and something would happen, I’d say “THE PLOT THICKENS!” and you’d pretend you were stirring a large pot. The strange dance you used to do. How I could tell everytime you went in the kitchen, every cabinet door would be open after you left. How you used to coo like a dove. Your monkey sounds. Your monkey dance. Your totally geeky hand gesture when you’d say “You’re IN!”. Driving back from Arizona with no radio, you made up songs and sang to me all the way back. Birka time with the cats. Your silly walk. How you could recite scenes from any Monty Python movie. Your pretend dive into the bathtub. Those things keep coming back to me, stopping me in my tracks. I’m sure more will surface, things I’d forgotten and have now lost forever.
Your alcoholism tore me apart. I still remember the feeling I got when I woke up or came home from work and found you drinking. My stomach would drop to my feet. Occasionally when you stopped drinking, I saw what a real relationship between the two of us would be like. I wished there were more of that.
When I first learned you had cirrhosis, I read everything I could find out about it. I saw the life expectancy. I knew my time with you was drawing to a close. I hoped it would be painless and peaceful for you. It wasn’t. I had no problems taking care of you. The only thing that bothered me was you could not do anything for yourself at the end. I had no problem lifting you up, moving you around, or bringing you anything.
The day you died, you weren’t there. Your eyes wouldn’t focus on anything, they were far away. You moaned a lot, and I hope with all my heart that was a reaction and not pain you were in. I heard the rattle in your chest early that day and I knew you were going soon. That night, I laid down beside you and slept for awhile. When I woke up, the rattle was loud. I lit candles in the room and put on music I knew would soothe you. I left the room for a bit and when I came back, you were gasping for breath. I sat beside you on the bed and held your hand. You looked over at me and you saw me. It looked like maybe you were trying to say something. You couldn’t. Then you died.
I couldn’t be in the house when they took you away a few hours later. I didn’t want to see you covered in a sheet. I didn’t want that memory. The memories I have of the last year of your life, watching you suffer are hard enough.
It was hard making your funeral arrangements. I wish I’d looked into it sooner. I hope you approve of the white lilies. I hope you like the music I picked. I will never be able to smell a white lily anymore. I will never be able to listen to “Adagio for Strings” either.
You looked good at the viewing, everyone said so and I agree. I thought that would be the hardest since you were cremated before the funeral. I would see you again at the viewing. But it wasn’t. I could hardly stand to be at the funeral. I wanted to leave. You know me and my fear of showing any emotion.
I want to see you again, I want to talk to you. I feel your presence at times. I wish you could speak to me. I wish I could see you again. I hope you’re at peace now. I hope you approve of the choices I’m making. I’m trying to pick myself up. I can’t wait for the day we meet again. I love you.
