Eight years gone

My dearest Squish;

Eight fucking years. Hell, baby, I thought I wasn’t going to get to 8 hours, 8 days, 8 weeks without you. I know you come around sometimes. Thanks.  It does keep me going at times, when I need that little reminder that it wasn’t all in my head, and what we had was real.

There are days when people tell me stories that I have to shake myself and go “damn, I was there”. There are other days where every little detail comes flooding in, and if I’m not in a situation that calls for calm (and sometimes when I am) will burst into delighted laughter of a remembrance, or tears that you are not there to share things with.

There are the purely wild “Jaymerizms”:

  • Tea tastes better served in fine china, made by someone else. With cream.
  • Its 7pm. Kayvyn is late.
  • Pretty, pretty, pretty
  • What was that song by that guy?  Let’s call Beeberly
  • I could even out your bangs
  • It’s my favorite size…huge
  • Well FUUUCK that SHIIIIT
  • NEXT!
  • Oh my god, I broke my husband…again
  • Get in the chair
  • Where’s my hitter?
  • I love you so much my earlobes stink

There are lessons that you taught me that I do my best to have learned, some days better than others:

  • Everybody calls when they get home from the party
  • Give people a chance, and then FUUUCK them
  • A stranger is just a friend you haven’t…met….yet
  • If you fuck up dinner, pour another bottle of wine, slap the shit on a fancy plate and sprinkle herbs on it, another bottle after dinner and they’ll all be happy.
  • Blood doesn’t make family. Family are the people in your lives who’d do anything to help you, and you would do anything for.

There are moments in these past 8 years I wished I could’ve shared with you; there are people I would have loved you to meet; there was music to play (even new Stevie and Fleetwood!) and times that I could’ve have used that ultra-confident FUUUCK that to cheer me up and boost my confidence.

See, the biggest thing that you taught me was that life can be enjoyed on your own terms quite happily. That’s the trick of not being a “sheeple”… march to your own drum, off-beat, singing quietly and off-tune or loudly and on; listen to people who need listening to; give love to people who need a little love, but if they don’t give it back, don’t let them suck you dry; go outside with flare, because in a world of caterpillars it takes balls to be a butterfly; if people think you’re just a moth and not a butterfly, fuck it, you still have wings.

And those of us in the know, well, we all have a little piece of you inside of us. When we are together, we laugh a little harder and love a little fiercer, because we know that every moment we have with each other could be the last, so at least for that moment we live out loud.

I miss you, babe.  You had the stinkiest earlobes…

Love,

Your Smoochie

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