What I miss about my bloke
I am 30 now and still single and if memory still serves correct, we are supposed to be married. I'll never forget that blood pack we made one night out on my swing. I believe just prior to our vow, he yelled, "Hey Rusty!" And as she scoured the darkness of the windows in the house, she finally saw the whiteness of his bare Irish ass and his laughter emanating from the 2nd story. He then scared the shit out of me by scaling the roof and jumping down to run over and "have a butt." He talked about all of the girls he was with and how I was an awesome woman. It is funny to me that he would make that distinction. He told me that if I was still single by the time I was 30 then he and I would get married. We would laugh about what our wedding would be like, sometime in October, and how much fun it would be for us all to be related and what our kids would look like and what we would name them some sort of N'hamish (sorry about the spelling) name still sticks (Later, I believe he wanted his Mom and dad to name Rory the same name). To this day, I wish he was here to make good on his word.
I'll never forget when I first laid eyes on that raven haired boy. I say boy because it was not until later that he evolved into a man. It's funny because I can make that distinction about him. I was talking to Brenda about her run-in with Sr. Christine and she told me that her older brother, Damian, was working at Donnelly too. I insisted that she must be mistaken because I did the payroll and was not paying anyone with that name. When I finally met him, we talked and he knew my boss and then I kept that little secret that he was being paid off the books. From that day on, we were like peanut butter and jelly. We drove together. It was an awesome carpool as he often tried to convert me to phishism. As late as we were, we would always stop for coffee and more smokes. As we always made it to work by the skin of our teeth, with U2 blaring or the Hooligans, he would always say, "I'll see ya later Bernie." Most days we would start and end the day together like an old married couple. The memory of that unpretentious Irish brogue still warms my heart and tears my eye to this day.
He would have made one hell of a politician because he could make any idea seem like "the right thing to do" including buying him "the drink" and allowing him to polish off my father's stock. There's nothing I could say no to him about. I'll never forget having him and Cook (in his old man boxers) and Sac and the rest of the gang over for midnight margarita madness and swimming in the pool and staying up till the wee hours singing and laughing and poking fun. As I look at the empty place where the pool used to be, I am filled with the same emptiness. He always persuaded me to "go out" and the original pub crawl had reached it's climax at Billy's Place. Hey, how come that's not on the roster? Anyway, there are too many memories to share and for that, I am eternally thankful.
Damian was there for me through "thick" and "thin" and with that, he will forever be a part of my life. His words, humbleness, dignity and that stare and grin which was his trademark characterizes all that was his little simple crazy way. I gave him my words of wisdom, my cigarettes, the keys to my car, my friendship and love. What he gave to me, his white bare Irish ass, his brilliant stories, his friendship and his love.
Bernadette O'Hara