life on the funny farm

Saturday, November 8, 2014

Bob

There was a time my world turned upside down.
I had many questions.
I had few answers.

I was by turns alone, worried, not good enough.

I was just a girl.

And then a man walked into this unsteady world of mine.

He was a big solid man with a mustache and a pipe.
He could build things.
He could fix things.
With magic, he could turn docks twisted and deformed from the ice of the bay into things straight and true.

Though he was in my world, he was also not.  He was on the periphery.  There was a boundary he could not, would not cross.  His feet were in the world of another.  We were a living, breathing Venn Diagram, with intersections and overlaps and voids.

And this Venn Diagram was forever shifting, and this man moved in and out of circles many times throughout the years.

But like the solid things he built, he remained solid in my life, even when turmoil and chaos drove him away for stretches of time.

He always returned.

And I would call him Mister, and he would call me Girl.

I grew and I flew from my island home.
I learned, I married, I worked, I had babies.
From time to time I would return home.
As I chased after my little ones, he remained on the periphery, watching me learn to be a Mama.
The twinkle in his eyes did not go unnoticed.

And I would call him Mister, and he would call me Girl.

My babies grew, and the man began to slow.
No longer did he fix docks, no longer did he build houses.  And though his hands and his back and his shoulders looked strong as ever, they began to pain him.
Still, he managed to do magic on an old house and her land and her outbuildings, creating little secret pathways and gates and wishing wells.
And when I would come to visit, his eyes would shine bright as he showed me his latest project.
He would sit with me over coffee and tell me his latest plans.

And I would call him Mister, and he would call me Girl.

One day, a telephone call.
Sickness.
Worry....

Getting worse.
Doctors.
Hospital.
Cancer.
Not much longer.....

A visit with my babies.
There he lay.
No longer big and strong.
Smaller.
Weaker.
Sleeping.

I woke him.
He looked at me and smiled.
And I called him Mister, and he called me Girl.
And I tried not to cry as we talked.
We all said our goodbyes, knowing it would likely be a final goodbye, but not speaking of it.

And five days later, he was gone.

And yet, like when I went stretches of time without seeing him, I feel his presence still.
Solid and strong and constant.

And he is my Mister.
And I am his Girl.








6 comments:

  1. What a lucky girl you were and he was a lucky Mister. God put both of you together when you both needed love and support. What a wonderful blessing you must have been to each other. Cherish the memories and pray that your children have someone that touches their lives so profoundly.

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    1. Thank you, Jeanette. I am lucky, you are so right. What an amazing man he was.

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  2. That was beautiful and very special & I have no doubt he would be proud to read that but would probably smile, nod and say that's my girl! You have been blessed to have such an amazing relationship......

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    Replies
    1. Awww, thanks, Sharmayne. It was very special. He was very special. I miss him.

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  3. What a beautiful and very poignant post, you've just made me cry. How blessed you were to have such a lovely and very special relationship - your Mister may be gone now but he'll live on in the heart of his Girl for ever.

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  4. Thanks, Tigermouse. Tomorrow is his funeral. Not going to be easy.

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