Our story isn’t over
For months, I watched Bowie slowly lean back in. Every text, every worry, every check-in, every small act of care slowly rebuilt what had been broken. He had learned to help keep me focused and relaxed by asking me to watch shows and our traditional war films. I had to admit, it really did slow me down and let my body recover and I was thankful he was looking out for me. Mostly, I enjoyed all the banter back and forth during the shows. He always knew how to make me smile.
I knew he missed me and on the other hand, I knew he had been scared shitless to lose me to cancer. His feelings were trickling out weekly. I kept replaying when I said, “I may die” and he replied, “No, or I will soon after.” Those words embedded deeply into me. Then the “I love yous’ started coming in fast and furious. Even an “I love YOU!!” Then came the songs, each one carrying a message, even mentioning Nothing Compares to 2 U was directly for me. And then the coffee cards and I can never get enough of those. Bowie always knows exactly what I need most. At one point I said, “Thank you. It’s just me. And you’re just you. I appreciate you and my coffee this morning. Love you Mr. G.” He replied, “I am here for you.” and then I responded with, “Thank you and I, you.” This started a rhythm back to old times. We seemed to pick up where we left off, however I continued to sit and observe to see where he was going.
Then came his realization he had, “I hope I can say this but here goes. I have been thinking about things a lot lately. I really was happy when we were together. I have often thought of some of the little times, drives in the car over to work etc and I was happy. Thank you! You mean a lot to me. Love you!!” His words and actions were finally beginning to match. Every week seemed to bring another small step forward and I was only five weeks away from seeing him in Texas.
And then, one evening while I was having appetizers with my family in California, this appeared on my screen.
“I do see it. I see you. I love you. I don’t know when I will be ready but I am getting there. And maybe you will be willing to give me another chance. I love you!”
Everyone kept talking around me, but my world suddenly became very quiet as I stared at the screen in disbelief. I read it again. I see you, I thought. I love you. Twice. He was using my own language. And then those final words... another chance.This man was continuously keeping me on my toes, whether devastatingly so or with disbelief. My heart ached reading those words and yet at the same time, it made sense. The way he had been communicating was if we had never separated. All I could do was reply in my normal humorous banter. We had to lighten the moment for him and for myself. I knew it wasn’t easy for him to communicate a possible second chance after what had happened and how he left us.
“One day… hopefully sooner than later before canes and walkers. Life has a funny way of bringing two imperfect people back around when the timing finally catches up. I guess we’ll see if Sir Butthead earns his knighthood this time. I love you till we’re six feet under.”
“I know. Maybe I will get my head out of my ass sometime soon :)” And then we were back to normal, being us, making each other laugh, smile and simply being. That’s what we were good at when we allowed ourselves to just be.
