You will find that I’ve lost more loved ones in my early years than I care to admit. I’m no stranger to death and it’s no wonder I have an anxiety disorder. It’s been 10 years since Greg Behm died (11-22-04). This poem is about him.
The first day I met you, your polite hand shake and nice smile.
Your laugh and somewhat shy demeanor.
That first night in your home with everyone enjoying the party.
All the times we went to the wings place for the Wrestling pay per view night.
All the nights I slept on your floor and cooked in your kitchen.
The night I was miserably sick on your couch and how nice you were.
The conversations we had about your feelings for Cat, Steph, and many of your closest friends.
The times you stuck up for me and made sure people treated me respectfully.
And how you enlightened me when I was wrong about someone else.
All the long nights of role playing, the plotting, and even the time you killed by first character in a game.
The millions of times you apologized for killing my character – which you did jokingly again the same week that you died.
And all the online chats, talking about how happy you were with your new place, and all the great things you had planned.
The last time we talked, and you mentioned how you could now go out with Steph, and how you missed her.
Did you ever go out for that coffee? It’s a missed opportunity that Steph and I reminisced.
And there was that rave – Planetary Reformation – where we shared secrets.
At that party I learned something about you, something I can’t say here, but it was illuminating.
It was something I wouldn’t have ever imagined of you.
And you were very kind and fun to be around with that night with us.
Your hugs, especially the last hug that we shared.
I also remember the truths that we’ve shared.
Almost the most generous, the most patience, and the most kind… only second to my husband.
What I remember most – is everything about you.