Sunday, January 5, 2014

bebe

I wrote about my friend Roy's passing last year, briefly.  I wasn't then and I'm still not quite ready to lay our shit out on front street.  I likely never will be and that's fine, because God knows nobody is asking me to run my mouth.  Tonight though, because of Roy, I've been listening to a dumb Michael Buble song, "I Want To Go Home", over and over again.

A few years back Roy asked me if I had any Michael Buble music.  He was a little older than me and had never made it into the computer age, so he called me when he had a question about directions or wanted a cd burned or needed to know what year the Moors invaded Italy.

I got so used to those calls, "Hey, you at the computer?  Do me a favor and look up what's his name, the round earth guy, what year was that?"

"Galileo?"

"Yeah him.  Hurry up, Kenny's being a dumb ass about this"

I'd provide the needed info and we'd say our I love you's and get off the phone.

So maybe six or seven years ago Roy asked me if I had any Michael Buble, and I didn't, of course, because I'm not a twelve year old girl or a sixty year old woman.  Because it was my job for years to do these small biddings of Roys, I asked around and it turned out that a coworker of mine was a Buble fanatic.  I burned all of his cd's for Roy, and he was happy enough with that.  The only cd's in Roy's truck were the cd's I'd made him.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this, except that I've been listening to that song all night and I can see now why Roy liked at least that track.

When I think back on the relationships I've had, the thing that strikes me is that I tend to have a better relationship with people once there's nothing left to lose.  The battle has to be over, maybe that's a testament to my stubbornness.  Roy and I spent a few rocky but passionate years together, and and then we took our time for the next ten years just loving each other.

I look around at the flotsam and jetsam of my life and Roy is everywhere, I wore a tshirt he gave me the other day, some dumb band from a show he bounced that neither of us ever heard of again.  I sleep in the bed that I helped him move from his storage container to my old house.  I wear a chain he bought me.  His shit in my life has stood the test of time.  Don't get me wrong, he was no sugar daddy and I've never been a shower me with gifts diva, we just did things for each other.  It wasn't perfect until it was over.

So I've been listening to this song that is the epitome of cheese, and I love it.  I'm reminded of Roy's sweet thick voice, "You do for me and I do for you", not an "if" equation, but a simple statement of the open exchange of affection and kindness that always ran in the deep currents between us.

Sayonara B.D. Royale, it's been an absolute pleasure, I look forward to seeing you again.

2 comments:

  1. "It wasn't perfect until it was over." Love this and can definitely relate (ME) but so comforting to know that this kind of unique situation for lack of a better description of an on again off again friend/love who you assume will be a constant in your life and the gradual, stinging realization that the death is permanent and the little bitter sweet aches will never go away--I forgot my point but you get it.

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    Replies
    1. yes, exactly right, that's exactly right. perfect.

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