This Could Be The Last Time

This Could Be The Last Time

"Yeah, but if SHE required dental work afterwards, then I'd be impressed." - D9

It didn't hit me until it was all over. Fuck. M is gone.

I got three hugs from Layla tonight. At the end of the night, I told her she better take care of him, and I know she will. "I'm happy for him with the new band. I'm happy he has such an beautiful daughter, and an incredible wife. I envy the FUCK out of him for that last thing, you know. Be good to him for me."

She obliterated my soul with one look, one moment inside the most perfect sea of blue I've ever seen, and promised me she would.

I spent half an hour with him in the parking lot. I owe him about a dozen CDs I'll be dropping by soon. This is the end of him in the band, but he's going to be around the area for a while. So it's really weird. We'll still be seeing each other, but not onstage.

We talked about those CDs, about Kevin Gilbert (I fucked his head up with "Thud" a year or so ago, still one of my favortie things to happen in the past 20 years or more), about his new band. And about her. The resolution I felt last month was not actually over something said out loud. So I said it tonight - everything I've written about him and his unspeakably beautiful, cool, sweet, supportive, understanding, funny, and intelligent wife here in the last few months, I condensed to three tight, concise sentences right to his face. And it changed nothing between us. Nothing at all.

He's my brother. And goddammit, I'm crying now. I don't want this to end. It's the right thing, but I still don't want it.

I'm supposed to practice with the band in Cincy in 11 hours. There's no fucking way I can get my head around that.

How can I be so happy and so fucking sad at the same time?

Love,
Dougie

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