Wednesday, August 31, 2011

To a Love Lost

Well I am totally pissed as a British friend would say. Earlier this evening I nearly finished off a bottle of fine Jim Beam Black with the 90 year old mother of the boy that saved my life. Today is or would have been his birthday and she figured it was better we do it the evening before because she will not be here tomorrow and I cannot be trusted. She is asleep in a spare bedroom but I cannot sleep which is what happens normally for me regardless, but if I drink I certainly will not fall asleep.

His beautiful life was extinguished in a gruesome helicopter crash in Southeast Asia on a clandestine trip into some forbidden country we have never been privileged to know. Cambodia, Laos, or wherever shit hole it makes no difference because he died May 15, 1963 in the predawn of the Vietnam War with 6 other Green Berets, two of whom I had met. His team and the helicopter crew went down and despite some serious inquiries by people with a lot of pull we have never been privy to where and why or even how they went down. Heck, we don't even know if the little remains we buried are his.

At one time I thought or felt I should have marched into some Army base as "me" and gotten him thrown out of the service but I know that would have broken his heart. His dad was a US Ranger on D-Day and he wanted to follow in his fathers footsteps. A son following his father but Kevin did not want to be an officer.

He visited me in college in February of 1963 just days before he shipped out and we had it all planned out. Surgery with Burou at the turn of the year was scheduled by Dr. Benjamin and my Mother and was I going to be free to do with him what I wanted to do from basically the first time I met him. I figured I had my husband and my house with the white picket fence ready and waiting but sometimes dreams become nightmares as this one did.

I am sitting here and I realize how lucky I have been.  My second marriage was perfect in so many ways. I am looking at pictures his Mother took of us together right this moment and as much as I adored my second husband I have to.W hat if? Maybe it is the Bourbon talking but he had already asked me to marry him, a fast yes by the way, and I will always wonder a bit how different my life would have been. There are no assurances in life but I know in my heart we would have been good together.

I believe there is something after death, I need to, because I want him to hold me one more time and maybe if sex is allowed in heaven I can have him like I dreamed. If not then I suggest god send me straight to hell cause I am going to be a pain in your ass. Please don't.

This last sip is for you my love. May god bless you and I hope to see you again sometime later in a better place.

Love.

6 comments:

Leigh said...

Nothing to say here .. Peace be with you Liz

Not your friend said...

Thank You for sharing Elizabeth, this was very touching.

Deena said...

Sorry for your loss. Unfortunately many mothers, wives, sisters and girlfriends of that era also experienced it. You can find his name and profile at virtualwall.org on panel 01E. It is chronological by date of death.

Anonymous said...

Yes Liz. Thank you for sharing. Sometimes a bit of alcoholic assisted melancholy is good for the soul. It helps us understand just how lucky we are and offers us some perspective as to our individual insignificance.

In my view, all we can do...is the best we can.

Anne

Anonymous said...

@Elizabeth

I know how you feel with such an unrequited love. Did he know? You are clearly a woman who loved a man. What did he look like to you? In his uniform?

I have someone like that who is similar. He’s 6’10” taller than me--such a rare man. Magnificent in physique, but he wouldn’t believe it if I told him. He too felt self conscious of his height as all tall people do. We workout together once an awhile. He texts me all the time and I cannot bring myself to tell him how I feel. “I miss you,” was his last message to me while I was in Japan.

He needs to be a father--so few good ones out there. I feel so deformed sometimes. He is so beautiful to me. Always in my thoughts and dreams. Feeling the way I do about him--he knows what I am. I am, at times, lonely, wishing for his company. Just to see him--paralyzed. I’m such a geek when he is near.

If there is a definition of emotional blindness it would look like this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufwSa26Py-8&feature=fvst

His name is Austin--this music reminds me of him.

Is this what love is? I remember my escape from my fathers wrath. As Beethoven did run. I was on a horse named Excalibur. Racing a train on the Santa Fe line from Delhi to the Stanislaus River at top speed as thoroughbreds do. The train couldn’t keep up with us. I was 16 years old and ran away.

I was blind for 18 years--he helps me see.

How did he make you feel? Sorry too much port wine and chocolate tonight with friends.

BlackSwan

Elizabeth said...

@Black Swan

Yes I eventually was in love with Kevin. He saved my life literally once but in so many ways he save me emotionally because I knew I liked boys as a girl. He knew as a boy but I was never much of one and by the time we met when I started tutoring him I was in full rebellion mode and was as girl as I could get away with for the time.

He saw me as that girl. I had a retaining wall built around me for protection from boys and bullying and it too him a full year to break it down. I owe him and his family more than I can ever repay.

The first man I loved after surgery was a difficult situation. We were to be married but I did not know how to tell him. I was so afraid of losing him and in New York City it was inevitable he would have to be told. I never could and he found out and it was quite ugly and he called me some vile names and I probably deserved them for not telling him but I have no answers on how or when to tell a man. I loved him and he was my first sex partner and losing him hurt a lot.

My first marriage was a disaster except I got to raise a daughter. My second marriage was just heaven, It might be the only word I find that is fitting. I loved him beyond my life and a big piece of me died when he passed to be honest. He made me feel alive and went out of his way to make me feel like his ideal girlfriend and wife.I am not sure there are words to express how much I loved him.