“May you always walk in sunshine. May you never want for more. 
May Irish angels rest their wings right beside your door.” Irish blessing

©2003- Beginnings-graphite on paper, 25x30 cm (10x12)

©2003- Beginnings-graphite on paper, 25×30 cm (10×12)

An Aside to the Story…….

 

We all reach an age when life begins to take away those things that were given without pause, and certain memories tend to surface as a reminder of how very generous life was in those days. Touching on the major events that propelled me forward does not even begin to touch the incredible amount of people, events and things that transpired in the spaces in between, things that truly added shape and definition to my being.  Each one of us has a myriad of stories to fill those spaces, stories of who, what, where and how, all birthing, living, dying, being constantly replaced and renewed guiding us on this journey.

My return to Houston opened many doors for me as well as for Garry. He always had a magic touch and could pick a mean 12-string guitar and even meaner banjo. So a band was formed and achieved great popularity in the clubs on the Landing. They drew enough attention that the Playboy Club offered a contract to play the grand tour of its Clubs. However, fame and fortune do have a price and within 6 months the band had spit and Garry returned to Houston.

Coming back, Garry resumed tenancy in his old apartment, which was just below mine. It was at his welcome home party he met my roommate Kathleen and they immediately fell in love.  She was tall, very slender and Irish to the core. Raven hair with freckles splattered across her face. Dancing green eyes and a contagious bell-like laughter completed her persona. She also had that bit of magic. The kind that makes heads turn and people smile. Kathleen was a professional model working at Neiman Marcus, earned a good living and had a very bright future.

She was grace, beauty, and intelligence; everything I thought I was not.  We formed a quick, fast friendship in which we shared everything, or so I thought. We had been roommates for nearly a year but within Kathleen’s bright exterior she held a deep, dark secret, one she hid very well and could not share.

I came home late one night from work and found her lying in a pool of blood on the floor. She was breathing shallowly, her wrists slashed. I called 911 and they talked me though keeping her alive until the ambulance arrived. I stayed with her all that night and the next day when she regained consciousness.

The first thing she said to me was “You bitch, if you were really my friend, you would have let me die! Get out of my life!”

I had notified Garry the previous evening and he arrived at the hospital that morning, spent time with her and then took me back home were we packed up her things. He had already contacted her family, she would be going back to New York; they were coming to get her.

I did not go back to the hospital, but heard that her family arrived the next day, but only to collect her corpse. While in the hospital she managed to open her wrist again and succeeded in leaving this mortal plain.

We talked about Kathleen a few times, neither of us understanding the whys of the events that transpired, only that she was someone special we had both grown to love, someone who touched our lives deeply and would always be remembered. Her death marked an awakening to the changing times. The 70’s were upon us, and Garry finally having enough of city life moved to the Hill Country.  Our paths would not cross again for many, many years.  I found a new apartment closer to my work and never had another roommate.

It was events like this where I would realize time and again, just how very small and insignificant we are in the grand scheme of life.  Major, devastating and life-changing personal events are just clogs in the ever grinding wheel of fortune.  Funny how life just goes on, no matter what happens, all of us just ripples in an eternal pond.

 

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Comments
  1. Another expressive, beautifully envisioned illustration.

    Like

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