This year makes it five since Kerry died — from exposure after drinking and spending an entire night in the freezing Vermont air. That day in March 1998 when my mother called and broke the news, my world broke into more pieces than I ever thought made it up in the first place. He and I were the closest of friends, and at one time were more, but never made the leap into “lovers”. And back when we were at our closest (in the mid ’80s), I, a girl who never really put much stock in the whole “happily ever after” thing, actually daydreamed and hoped we would be together forever and the marriage quilt his mother had shown us one night would be ours one day.
So today it’s raining and I’m listening to all sorts of sappy music, and wishing he were here so we could make granola (no, that is not a code word!) and laugh like there was no tomorrow. So today I will remember yesterdays with Kerry, because that’s all I have.
And then I’ll go to the gym, someone will piss me off, I’ll be back to the raving raven-haired stunner you know and love, and everybody will be happy. Don’t worry!