Listening to Fred

Today I'd gone to a family birthday party for a friends brother.  I am friends with the birthday boyo's brother and sister.  My friends come from such an extensive family they have first cousins they've never met.

After the presents were opened and the birthday cards read and the photographs taken of generations of men, of women, of family and friends Fred told me I reminded him of his wife that had passed.  That seeing me stirred things up in him.  She was a red head too, 5'8", blue eyes.  We sat together as the full moon came up behind us and the sky turned a little violet and the mosquito's began to rise up and feed.

Fred is 70 years old and could pass for sixty.  He has grey hair combed back, facial hair, big ears, and a long multi-banded ponytail.  When he was young he was a powerful man and not just a little bit dangerous, but maybe a lot.  He told me he boxed.  He said he wasn't particularly good looking but that he knew who he was, had confidence.  He isn't as powerful anymore but he is still strong and healthy and sharp.
 He began talking to me at length, something I'm not sure he does with just anybody.  He said he thinks of her often, as the days go on more and more.  He described their relationship of twenty seven years.  He was not an easy man.  He acknowledged he was a hard man in the early years, unappreciative of the gifts in his life.

He came to embrace them before it was too late. He took care of her in the end.  It was brutal what he described. 

The way he detailed it all...the way he spoke of how a man should love a woman, the way he loved his wife, brought tears to both of our eyes.  I actually excused myself for a moment, and came back so we could resume.  Those left behind were too loose to see the depths Frank and I were treading.

I think I reminded him enough of her he felt at ease and spoke frankly, freely of the man he'd been, the man he became.

He made me think of John so vividly, good and bad, I had to press my index finger into the pad of my palm so I could hold back that choking feeling in my throat and keep myself from crying...
Frank's memories causing mine to surface.

He's still a strong man.  Strong of mind, and strong of body.  He understands life goes on.  He understands she's gone and he's living.  He said he'd be fine to have another woman in his life to enjoy doing things with, a companion.  This was a little eerie, if felt like permission for me to do the same (not a play, not a hint on his part)...like a message in bold to be honest.

I think he's waiting for her.  I think if she came for him he'd go. 

He told me he knew, he just knew when they met she would be his.  He knew it might not be that night, that week, that month.  He just knew, at some point it would come together for them.

He said she came in, red hair, bluest eyes he'd ever seen, long legs, big rack and he knew.  He said he always knew with a woman.  He wasn't talking about just sex, he meant they'd belong to each other.



It was lovely listening to Fred.  He mentioned a few times he was worried he was boring me.

This is one of those moments I like.  To end up somewhere I didn't think I'd be, listening to someone tell me their story, maybe reminding me of my own.

Reminding me why I am where I am and through their sharing.  Reminding me my own story is nowhere close to over.

I figure this must be true.

Frank said he was a good judge of people.  He said he thinks I am woman with a good heart, a gentle heart, a kind heart.  He said I have a bit of barrier up (thank god, I've been working on it).

He isn't the type of man to share like that and he shared himself with me.

A pretty red head that reminded him of his wife.