Saturday, August 14, 2010
Kevin became somewhat romantic knowing the end of our life together was coming. He made sure he told me how much he loved me, how he respected me, was proud of me…oh so many things in the last months. One of his favorite songs that he had me play over and over again was by Lionel Richie, “Stuck On You” and listening to the words many times, I think he was trying to tell me how lucky he felt to have me in his life. Can you understand how my heart rejoiced and broke at the same time? I have attached a link here. Listen and you’ll understand.
Stuck On You
Kevin and I had a relationship based on respect, love and friendship. Oh, we had our times when we fought, just like anyone else. I was usually devastated when he was mad at me and would apologize first (even when I knew I was right). I just couldn’t take it when he was disappointed in me or upset with me. He always said that disappointing the people you supposedly care about, and that care about you, is the worse thing you can do to someone. He did always admit when he was wrong (which wasn’t often damn the stubborn Swede) and admitted mistakes that he made.
I’m sure there are many people in our lives that were disappointed and are upset that Kevin wouldn’t change to suit us. I have to admit, I am one. I know I am not alone…his son, his mom, friends…all of us. We wanted him to stay alive-he wanted his own life, his one way. One thing sticks with me, however. Kevin always journeyed on the “road less traveled” for most of his life. Why did we ever think he would trudge down some well worn path at the orders of someone else? His path was predestined from the beginning. And didn’t that non-compliancy attitude, that cockiness, make him exactly who he was? Would any of us have wanted to change him, the essence of what made Kevin…Kevin? I don’t think so.
Kevin could analyze people almost immediately and just simply know their nature. I can’t remember a time that he was wrong. It took years at times, but ultimately his perception of the person was right. Don’t think that wasn’t irritating at times…
All in all, Kevin was a wonderful person. He was kind, very giving, generous and yes, tough, opinionated, tempermental, brutally honest, and a real pain in the butt at times. We loved him because of that. Earning a smile, kudos or praise from Kevin Williamson was a big feather in anyone’s hat because he expected the absolute best from all of us.
Kevin always felt he had been born in the wrong century and I believe that he did live in another time when men were men, so to speak. He had great admiration for the mountain man, the first cowboys and the renegade. Being somewhat of an outlaw himself, he understood the need to go your own way, to break your own trail and live life to it’s fullest embracing and enjoying the adventure along the way.
Did he have regrets? A few. Don’t we all? He regretted hurting Sarah. He regretted friends he lost and the life he wasn’t going to have. He regretted the things we would never do together. The things he would never be able to do with Chalan. He regretted the words he never said to his mother, his son, my son, his stepchildren and his friends.
And leaving us…yes, he regretted that the most.
He knew years ago, unconsciously that he would not live to be an old man. He always knew that. How, I don’t know. But he did.
A friend of mine told me that we are put on this earth for a preordained amount of time with certain tasks to fulfill before our time is up. Did he fulfill those tasks?
I think so. He taught so many of us to be stronger than we thought we could ever be, to push ourselves just a bit farther and to never ever give up yourself to someone else. “Don’t lose what makes you uniquely you” he used to tell me. He taught us to look within, to find the essence of ourselves and make it brighter so that we could shine.
He died listening to his favorites: Gordon Lightfoot ,Nat King Cole, Elton John, Cat Stevens, Bob Dylan and Chalan…always Chalan.. He taught Chalan to play guitar initially but always said Chalan took it to a higher level, one he himself didn’t achieve or need to. Once again, the “old man’s” wise words pushed, prodded and pissed many of us off enough to become what he always knew we could be and to be strong enough to go on without him and be who he knew we always were.
I had made him the promise that he would die in his cabin in the woods and he did. He could see the sky, hear the birds and hear the songs of his world, which wrapped around him and took him home.
I’m mighty glad I stayed.