Another Philadelphia Story.

Brian and Janet had their lives mapped out, time to finish school for Janet, time for saving and improving the house for Brian; then, anticipate the stars to align around the year 2013 when the wedding had been planned right here at the lake.

Brian has never been happier.

For the few days that we had all together we got to know a whole lot about their courtship, his flying to Philadelphia to propose, their visit up to Oregon to introduce Janet to us, visiting his sister in Eugene, all the time sharing all the many activities they had planned together, including a possible business venture utilizing their talents and skills.

They were mapping their future world, one day at a time, one experience at a time, connecting with families, talking about what was important.

We'll be visiting Southern California soon, for the first time since the Memorial. I will be thinking about them this way; I'll be seeing his happy face all around the old hangouts.

Changing lights and other useful things...

Brian was definitely a hands-on, get it done kind of guy attacking a mechanical or electronic problem with the simplest of solutions first.

Whenever something needed fixing around the house, ever since he was a youngster, he jumped in with tools he gathered from his room. He had always been curious about how things worked and had tools everywhere, for he knew any minute he might need to fix something.

On one of his birthdays, I bought him a book entitled How Things Work, (or something like it!), that became a favorite of his for years.


Ever since we moved up here, and our health and physical abilities have begun to slow way down, a visit from Brian would guarantee that those burned lights got changed, the pump drained and turned off, the garden tilled, the batch of debris accumulating on the roof or in the garden got cleared up, or transported to the dump, and any little appliance that needed fine tuning was fixed and oiled and put back to good use.


Here he is in his front yard, digging and planning a native garden that would provide flowers and seed for wildlife, as  well as great herbs for the many dishes he enjoyed cooking.
On our last visit, I suggested he add more oregano and basil.

An ever-present-ever-aching feeling.

I've finally had a dream about Brian. He was a little boy, at a piano recital, a replica of a picture we have of him around seven or eight. Throughout the dream, I kept thinking, Oh good, I'm finally dreaming of Brian, he's with me, he's not gone.

My biggest fear is that if I stop thinking of him, he'll fade away. He will truly be gone.

Funny what the mind does to capture and hold on.
It knows that memory fades, like being in a car, on a road moving away, and as you move forward, everyone else is left behind. They exist; but they are not in your focus. And that focus becomes less and less sharp with age.

Now, I'm sorry I don't have more pictures, or videos or more artifacts of his life.

I was cleaning the cat dish yesterday, (Newkie, his cat, moved with us to Port Orford), and a sudden ache passed through me. I had used the dish for over a year, and never thought about it one way or another. I was thoroughly scrubbing that dish, in and out and around and through, when a thought stopped me in my tracks:   I had just removed the last of Brian's fingerprints;  his DNA had now been destroyed forever.

This is just the  ever-present ache that comes over me suddenly, and I don't have to go out of my way, on a daily basis to experience it. It comes to me when I least expect it, watching a movie, seeing someone, driving down the road, fixing a meal.

His friend Michael Kohan put together a CD of Brian's favorite music.
I've not played it yet. I will cry and rejoice as I listen to it. And that is a most precious state of affairs.