Look at those two smiling. Blue skies, sunshine, styling sunglasses and being together. This morning I woke up and was trying to sort out why I felt so sluggish. I have been working hard, eating well and resting good. I knew that I was still feeling the shock and pain of Irv's death and the sadness and profound loss for my friend Kathy. Then my calendar popped up "tomorrow anniversary of Steve's death". Pow! The tears came and the memories cascaded forth. The searing truth that he died way way way too young. Steve died in 2000 at age 52, it seemed too young then but now it seems incredibly tragic.
One of my most magical images of Steve is him sitting cross-legged on the floor in the living room of the apartment on Belmont Avenue in Chicago. He had the music going full volume, his eyes closed and he was drumming away with his hands on his legs smiling and totally there in the moment. He was so very very relaxed and enjoying the moment so much it just oozed out of every pore. I remember standing in the doorway and just watching him and loving him so very much for who he was. So funny how such a normal moment has penetrated so deeply into my soul.
I am so grateful that Steve and I were able to have and honor a deep deep reconciliation. I was so very sorry for having left him in the way that I did. There just were no excuses. I could have done it better, it reflected so much on where I was at, my own coming out, my feeble understanding of relationships. Steve was such a good man and he found his way to a life that he wanted. Both of us with much pain and both of us with much love for our daughter.
It took time, but we did have a life together again. Sasha had such adventures with her Dad, and when it became clear that her boyfriend was the real deal Steve took James under his wing and treated him like a son. He also I am sure gave him a very clear message about not messing with his daughter. I loved that the three of them had such fun wonderful adventures all around the world. Steve got his coast guard license and he captained yachts amazing yachts. In the summer Sasha would spend weeks with him out on sea, working on the yacht and touring all around. They would travel when he was not on the "ship" --- he did not like that I called them boats. He called them vessels.
Steve died of pancreatic cancer. Cancer sucks. He was able to move back to Wisconsin and made quite a nest for himself. He was a big hit with all the nurses, he wore the most outlandish "readers" the colors were so vibrant he could have been auditioning for him moment in the local gay club drag shows. His shirts were equally wonderful.
I was able to spend weeks at a time with him. People asked why I would do that. Why wouldn't I, he was the father of our daughter. He was my first and only husband. He was a loving man. Our time was precious together.
It was another time where the range of the heart is so very large. Steve was fighting cancer and Sasha was growing each day with their first child, a daughter. James and Sasha asked Steve to be a part of choosing her name, Myah, Myah Christine. They also brought their new puppy "Chica" a Rottweiler who surprisingly stole Steve's heart. Chica made us all laugh.
And laugh I will today, tomorrow remembering and honoring. I like when I am with my family to let Luke and Myah know when their Mom does something that is just like what her Dad used to do. We all call him Papa. I wish that they would have been able to know their grandfather. Steve would have been the best of Papa's. They have his brothers, and especially they have his brother Tom who is fiercely and totally protective and loving of Sasha, James, Myah and Luke.
Grief it just creeps up sometimes, sometimes it knocks the wind right out, and sometimes it just seems like you are a sluggy crab butt and then you realize -- oh it's an anniversary. It's the anniversary of Steve's death.
What is not a surprise. His memory is a blessing. Sail on Steve, sail on....
Comments