Ben and I have been together near on fifteen years now. Fifteen years of me not playing anything but the radio. You would think all the talent, patience, and music ability that has surrounded me all this time, I would have taken advantage of it. But, I’ve always seen it simply as his passion, and not mine. Then I lost one of my very favorite people. Aunt Kate.
‘She weren’t no ordinary Aunt.’ She lived BIG. Big in body, big in spirit, big in 70’s shag hair, and big in relationships. She was a rough talkin’, chain smokin’, Diet Pepsi drinkin’ fool who was as sentimental as an old schoolmarm who pined over lost a love. Despite the ‘rough start’ in life (as she called it), she chose to bask in the goodness of the present, that’s just a small part of what I loved about her. We spent countless hours fishing for hawgs, playing cards, and sitting by campfires swapping stories while dinner cooked. So, I wasn’t surprised when she wanted me to have something, when she found she was terminal. But her guitar? An Alvarez, Yari, one of a pair, that her and Uncle Sam had bought in the early 80’s.
“I can’ think of anyone who would get any more enjoyment out of it than you. But, if I give it to you, you have to learn to play it. Okay?”
I would be honored to have it, Kate, was all I managed to say, as I sat beside her in the hospital, listening to all the sounds whispering death was eminent.
“That way, you and Ben can play together.” Her eyes stared off in some far off place. “Sam and I had our best times playin’ together…I can hardly wait to see him.”
We all miss him too. We lost her just a few months later, and buried her on a beautiful day. We should have been fishing.
So, what do you do with a death bed promise? I brought it home, sat it in my bedroom and stubbed my toe on it. NICE! Once in a while, I’d take it out, and hold it. Mostly I let it gather dust and memories.
Maybe I should name it, everything else in my life has a nickname. I thought about my guns, Jimmy, Elivis, Samson, all manly names. But, this guitar was different. One day I put my cheek down on her body and cried. God I miss her, as the tears started to fall, I breathed deeply. With the breath came smells of cigeretts, campfires and biolage shampoo… reminders of Aunt Kate. The scent of a person is usually one of the first things you loose when they die. But not with Kate. She stunk up her guitar real good before dying and left me with her scent, allowing her spirit to somehow be present as I play with Ben and our kids. I love that.
I had an english teacher that said everyone has at least one good poem in them. So I figure, everyone has one good song in them too. I haven’t found my yet. I’m still looking for it. In the mean time, I get to hang with Aunt Kate and even sit with her beside the fire.
Simply,
Sis
Wow.
That’s all I can say.
Good stuff Sis.
That was a hard one!
It’s hard to introduce someone so unique…
It would be easier if we were dogs…then we could just sniff each others butts without all the commentary…(that was for Kate)
Thanks for reading!
Sis
i wish I had met her and Sam — you are keeping them alive with your memories.
I loved meeting Kate. Perhaps I’ll get to hear her some day. Right?
Damn tear jerker. Rest in peace, Aunt Kate.
[...] either me or him. And it darn sure isn’t going to be me. I think I can take him. As Kate used to say…”Partner, you best get up to yer fighting [...]
A refreshing story thankyou for sharing it.
Thanks, Vickie. She was a dear one. I’m thankful to have such a piece of her still with me. Thanks for your insight.
Many Blessings.
Sis
[...] relationships that need nurturing, budgets to balance, meals to plan, miles to run, an old dusty guitar that needs struming and a keyboard needing stokes. In a few seconds I’ve made myself feel [...]
[...] anything new is, the more you handle it, the better you’ll do. Whether learning to cook, play the guitar or shoot, time equals comfort, so keep what your learning [...]