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.