‘Til We Meet Again
If you should die before me, ask if you can bring a friend. ~Scott Weiland
Death. I have been surrounded by death since I was quite young. Maybe too young. I know only too well that we have no control over death. People are born. They live for a month, a year, ten years, one hundred years, and they cross over. They cross over only to remain alive inside of us. It’s not enough. How could it be enough? It is what it is. Unfair. Painful. Confusing. Soul reckoning. Pain looking for a meaning.
I discovered only yesterday that two people I dearly loved crossed over within a very short time of each other. As it should be. They were in their eighties. They had been together as husband and wife since they were kids. They had their fair share of ups and downs like any married couple a 55 plus years of marriage would endure. But they raised their beautiful children and lived their beautiful lives with dignity and love in spite of the bumps in the road. They were an inspiration to the art of life and marriage.
They were the first people to believe in me that were not family members. It meant everything to me. It is a rare blessing to be loved and thought of with care and regard outside of your immediate family. ( Even within your immediate family come to think of it. ) I treasure the people that have offered their hearts to me that do not share my bloodline. Especially the ones that remain steadfast to who they are at their core. I don’t appreciate humans that were free, generous spirits forty years ago and all of a sudden decide to be angry idiot-sticks once they turn 60. It’s unseemly and disappointing. I tend to let them go. I never let go of Dave & Marie.
Dave was a songwriter and a plumber. Marie was a mother-with-a day-gig and an artist.
Dave brokered my first gig for me when I left my band. He used to hang out at this after hours coffee house on Ventura Blvd in Studio City called: The Bla-Bla Cafe. He hooked me up even though I wasn’t ready to take on a full night of playing on my own. He said I could do it and I believed him because I knew he would never lie to me. I found a way. Made it through with the help of another life long friend, Tim Barr. I didn’t know enough songs on my guitar to accompany myself so we did most of the gig with just upright bass and voice. It was an exciting, experimental time to be alive and singing and trying to get it right. I owe that time to Dave. I owe it to Marie also because she was ultimately cool with whatever was going on with the midnight ramblings song writers and musicians bring to the family table. As long as it wasn’t too much trouble.
I never saw Dave & Marie together again after they moved up to Oregon. Must have been the late 80’s or so. I got married and moved to Tokyo. When I returned to Los Angeles I saw Dave a couple of times when he came down to UCLA for cancer treatment in the 90’s. He licked it at the time. But it returned awhile ago. Marie had been struggling with her health for a few years and I know Dave gave himself to her care in spite of his poor health. They were what I would call the ideal couple. Not because their marriage was perfect but because they were perfectly married. They were devoted to each other.
Devoted is my favorite word. My favorite way of being in the world.
Devoted is what they were.
To each other. To their kids. To their friends. To their lives.
There will never be another Dave & Marie.
I praise the gods that I had them in my life for just this little while.
They will remain forever in my heart.
This Friday’s Child is dedicated to Dave & Marie Mac Kechnie and everyone that loved them.
Rest In Love & Bliss you two lovebirds.
I will miss you forever ’til we meet again, Mr & Mrs Old Duffer.
Sending Love, Light & Oceans of Bliss …