I remember and hang onto the most vivid details about Dave, I feel like if I keep the details crisp; he's just that much closer. The way his teeth were so perfect, yet they were just ever so slightly off center. Not enough for anyone else to ever notice, but having starred at that smile so many hours of my life, I could spot it a mile away; one of my favorite things about him. All I ever really wanted to be when I grew up was a mom and a wife. Sure I talked about being a lawyer or a teacher like most kids, but at the end of the day the only thing I really wanted was a family. I was so blessed to fill my dreams at a young age. Sure it made life harder sometimes, but nothing we couldn't face together. It just mean we would get that many more years together, that much more time with grand babies when we are older, maybe even great grand babies one day.
He had these freckles on his lips, I loved those freckles. One big freckle on the top of his right ear. I wanted him to get that one checked since he works in the sun, and it was a new one. He ignored that request. His breathe always smelled like he just drank a glass of milk, which was odd since he hated it. But it didn't smell like that in a bad way, it's sort of hard to explain really. Dave would do almost anything for a massage, back, neck, hands, feet, legs, face... you name it he was all about it. Apparently I am pretty good at giving them too, so bribing him was quite easy! The way his skin felt, the calluses on his hands from work, golf, and hockey... The sound his knuckles made when he cracked them. The little hairs on the tops of his toes that were so blonde, which I always found odd. His shoulders were strong, and I had a knack for finding the knots in them without him even knowing they were there yet.
I hate dinner time now. Dave loved it. I somehow ended up being kind of a badass in the kitchen. I really don't know how that happened since I was one of the pickiest kids you could ever meet. But give me a sharp knife a full fridge, and I will knock your socks off!!! Now, I have two kids who would live on pancakes if I let them. As much as I enjoyed cooking and the food I made, there is no point. I don't have a big appetite, I eat basically as much as the kids do. Although I don't share their same love of under seasoned chicken 7 days a week, whats the point of making things all fancy and tasty when I have so many other things I can do with that time? I also haven't gotten the hang of making way smaller portions. Before I would cook 5 pork chops for dinner. One for the kids to share, one for me that was my dinner and the other half for lunch the next day. Dave had one for dinner, one for lunch the next day, and some point between those times the last one was his snack! I really don't like leftovers a whole bunch, and I hate seeing food wasted... so dinner time is a shitty struggle to feed 3 people who eat very little. The way his face felt in my hands when I would rub it. His scruffly beard he refused to shave for lord knows whatever sporting event. I LOVED to run my fingers through his hair, giving a tug here or there as I went. I think that was equally calming to myself, as well as to him.
His laundry always had the same smell, sure it was dirty' but it didn't stink. Even though he did a dirty, outside, sweaty job... it just smelled like him; but sweatier. I hated folding his socks, he would never let me throw them away and they always were stretched, discolored or holy. I can look at the clothes I saved of his and tell you the last place or time I saw him wear almost all of them. The shoes he wore to our last dinner date at Panico's, the sweatshirt he wore the day before the accident to Applebee's; our last meal together with the kids. We sat at that table and Kam insisted on a game of "what do you like more" for about 25 minutes! My leftovers he was going to eat sat in our fridge for over a week before I could toss them, because they were for him. I miss going to eat. Whether it was to the diner, Panico's, or some new exciting and way too expensive place we would find... Even just enjoying a good meal is hard. Dave transformed me from the picky kid I was, to a bit of a foodie. Odd/interesting cuisine isn't barred from our pallets. My kids however don't have the same appreciation. Going out to eat with your girlfriends is nice, the same goes with family; but it's not a date. It's not the same as sitting down to a table with a man, who orders the correct sauvignon blanc without having to ask or bat an eye for you. Nothing replaces that.
I have never looked into more honest, understand or loving eyes then Dave's. They were the perfect intricate light/hazel brown color. Looking in those eyes made everything in the world instantly ok. One of the very first conversations Dave and I had so many years ago, was him insisting to me that he was "different" then most guys. It was a great line for a 16 year old to toss out, except when he said it, and I looked into those eyes; I knew it was true. I never looked back after that. Everything about him was different. He knew how to make me happy, feel safe, or let me know I was in trouble, with nothing more then a glance. We could have an entire conversation without needing to say a word. Once look back and forth and we both knew what the other was saying and thinking. "A Guy Thing" was the first movie we ever saw together, it sucked. He had given it to me last year for Valentine's and I keep thinking about watching it again, but watching movies is hard. We watched a lot of movies together, many of them hold some kind of memory. I would pick watching a movie with him over almost any date he could come up with. Movie nights meant a bottle of reisling, sushi he picked up from Momiji, and then we laid on the couch. I always laid between his legs, on my side snuggled into his chest. I fit perfectly there. There isn't a feeling I want back more, then to know what it is like to lay just that way with him.
I've talked to friends, about time passing and the steps you take and things that come. Feelings you have, questions you ask yourself. You wonder how much you will remember in 50 years, where life will have taken you. You want to live the life you and the person were creating, but at the same time now need to carve out a new path for yourself. You aren't a "we" anymore. Having gone from a couple on a dinner date with friends, to a third wheel.. a pity invite. How deep will the holes left behind get? Will you ever want anyone to try and fill those holes with someone else? If you do will there ever be anyone who even comes close? Who the hell out there would ever want to hear about another man all the time? Will the kids want someone else before I do? What if I find someone and they hate him? It's not like a divorce where you want to forget the person who is gone from your life. It's the total opposite, your doing everything you can to hold onto every last detail as strongly as you possible. Is there a person out there who will accept the fact that every birthday, holiday, school event, anniversary, and random memory will make you cry? That no matter what you will always be in love with the one you lost? The one favorite picture of us will forever be on my bed side table as long as I live, that's a lot for someone else to live with too. They are questions only time will be able to answer. The time we were supposed to have together, for questions that should never have to be asked.
No comments:
Post a Comment