KC Haywood

"Holding Hands With K.C."

I've only held hands with K.C. twice.

This is the second time and

Though his is a tough burly bear man

Covered in tattoos I don't feel too gay.

Not that K.C. would shy away from a little man love.

When he hugged you he meant it and you could feel it way down in your toes.

His love is the most genuine kind, the kind that comes from way down in the earth.

The kind that gives life to shy twigs, little birds, and even great big elephants.

The first time I held his hand I was full of hope,

Full of the confidence that he so easily exuded every time I saw him.

I remember he told me once that this confidence was the result of a mother that

Loved him so much and who told him how special he was each and every day.

The first time I held his hand I told him how special he was,

How much his mother loves him, how much his girlfriend loves him,

How much his friends love him, how much his girlfriend's dog loves him.

Not that he would ever doubt this love but I knew he was playing in the dreamworld and

The mysteries of the universe are there and he is a curious fellow no doubt,

Easily distracted and excited by cool new and mysterious things.

So I whispered to him these things about love in a way that might distract him from

Those cool new mysteries and remind him of all the beautiful things in this world.

And I know he heard me too because he came to visit me at night and

He smiled his big silly grin and looked at me with his big bright eyes.

I slept well and deep and when I woke up I knew he would be alright.

Still I prayed just to be on the safe side.

I prayed to Shiva god of chaos and to Tao the great endless void.

I prayed to compassionate cross-legged Buddha and to Dancing Goddess Earth.

I even prayed to Christian God with his big white beard and great big silly grin.

And I know they heard me because they too are always whispering in dreams.

But what they whisper is not answers to petitions.

They whisper riddles shrouded in darkness and 

They whisper soft songs of solace.

And so it is now that I hold K.C.'s hand for the second time.

This time my grip is tight and tears escape my closed fluttering eyes.

This time I am saying goodbye to my dear friend whom I love.

I wish him a good journey, full of mystery and joy.

I ask him to be our guardian, to watch over us, protect us.

I tell him things he already knows,

That his love lives on within us, that he is part of us,

That his big silly grin is eternal and his bright eyes never die.

I feel a surge of heat permeate my body 

All the way down to my toes and

I know that he has heard me and is answering me again.

I know that he is telling me that this really isn't goodbye,

That this is only change and that all things change,

That this is only the next leg of the fantastic journey he was always on.

I remember he told me once how he could never stay in one place for very long.

So I finally let go of his hand, look at him fondly once more and

Wander out of the sterile hospital room, down the long shimmering corridor.

I wash my face in the bathroom, hug a couple of crying friends and

Take the crowded elevator down to exit the building.

I park my bike by the lake, sit on a big rock and

Gaze out across that large blue empty question.

It gives no answer but a sense of peace slowly pervades my sadness.

That night I play kickball with K.C. in the dreamworld.

He is very much alive, just like always and

As he blasts the ball out of the park and into the sky

We laugh at the funny cool mysteries of the universe.