Ruminations when Someone Dies

BY KCY

Yesterday, someone close to me died. I’ve written about him here in the past. Our Bogie. We never defined our relationship. Although he was my mother’s partner for thirty years, they never married so he was never put in that box of stepfather. Even then, I’m not sure that would have done our relationship justice because how do you define a relationship so important in your life with just one word?

I was asked today what my favorite memory of Bogie is. I said I didn’t have one because to me, he was a constant, a permanence in my life. He was just always there. There during the high celebratory moments in my life, there during the lowest and darkest ones. Sometimes it was him and my mom who were my support system, sometimes it was only him. He was a friend, a confidant, that quiet presence in the background, the cheerleader telling me to “screw them, if they can’t see the wonderful person you are.”

I have favorite memories of my father who died nine years ago. Those memories are there because I didn’t grow up with my father. I didn’t have as much time with my father as I had with Bogie.

When someone is in your life like Bogie was, there are no fleeting memories, no special times, because the good and the bad moments and the time they spend with you is the sum of your relationship with that person. Perhaps that’s the most powerful memory of them: the sum of their being.

I can’t remember a time in the thirty years I knew Bogie when we hugged or said I love you to each other. I’m not a hugger or someone who throws the term I love you around loosely in the first place, so it’s not too surprising. Maybe some people would say that because we never did those things, we didn’t love each other, and we didn’t care about each other deeply. But I know that isn’t true, because love is in actions, love is in thoughtfulness. Love is taking an airplane to Arizona to drive back to San Diego with someone, so they don’t have to drive alone. Love is staying an extra day to help put some furniture together because they see you are stressed out and recognize that it’s not about the furniture but that they just need you there. Love is saying I’m proud of you, even when you lose that tennis match. Love is being there even after an angry teenager screams at you to pick up your dirty socks. I guess I do have some memories to share about Bogie.

I’m so blessed that a special person like Bogie was dropped into my life. He helped to shape me into the person I am today. He’s permanently in my heart and I’ll never forget him or the time we were so fortunate to have together. So, this non-touchy-feely person is going to say it for the first time: I love you, Bogie.