Hymn to Him

Hello keyboard my old friend. I’ve come to talk with you again.

You're so cool. (Except perhaps in those wellies)

You’re so cool. (Except perhaps in those wellies)

And tonight I just want to riff about my husband. Thoughts of Him occupy me so completely, but I am unable to express them to anyone but this multi-buttoned musketeer. The words form on my tongue but come out stutteringly, meanderingly, without flow or point.

Besides, why would anyone want to know about how I was always so proud that it was HIM I was going home with at the end of a night?

Or how when I first met Him we used to sit smoking roll-ups til morning, stubbing them out in a Lambrini bottle, which became a brown-silted graveyard for fag ends?

Or how He played ‘Romanza’ on the guitar with the devotion of a father nurturing a child? And how we used to sing together, to our daughter, ‘Dream A Little Dream of You?

How He introduced me to JJ Cale, War of the Worlds, Robertson Davies?

Or how He spoke in a low, deep voice – slowly and without pauses?

How He drank Black Sheep bitter and would always order beef curry at the Chinese?

How our last words before bed were always: I love you pet.

How He was without doubt the most courageous and beautiful human being I have ever met, and I still can’t believe He’s gone?

“…I look back and am amazed that my thoughts were so clear and true, that three words went through my mind endlessly, repeating themselves like a broken record: you’re so cool, you’re so cool, you’re so cool.”


4 thoughts on “Hymn to Him

  1. It’s funny the things we remember isn’t it. Things that when they were alive we never attached much importance to. They were just special moments. Ian was always a ‘real ale’ man. We would drive miles lookin for a pub that had ‘guest ales’ on. He too liked a beef curry. Altho I think he ordered it because I wouldn’t steal any. He introduced me to broadening my taste in music as I was a bit of a chart music fan when he met me but he said there was more out there than the bay city rollers. I’m thankful to him for that as I wouldn’t have wanted ‘bye bye baby’ at his funeral. We had one of our all time favourites by the lighthouse family ‘high’ which me and the kids had to fight the urge to do his dance routine out of the crematorium. Life has to go on though doesn’t it ? In some kind of fashion !!! Although there are still things I just can’t do. One of which is walking down the real ale isle in the supermarket. Hugs to u xx

    • Thanks so much for sharing those details about Ian. It’s what i hoped people would do but didn’t want to suggest it in case it was too much. I hope others do the same. And Im exactly the same down the real ale aisle. It creases me. Much love. X

  2. G would eat anything, except spinach, and would encourage me to try something new when we were out for dinner with the promise that he’d eat it if I didn’t like it. Never quite got round to ordering steak tartare and probably won’t now. He was the most disorganised person, despite being self employed, but would happily let me organise him to the hilt. So many things to think about and to miss about him. Thanks again for sharing xx

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