kaffy_r (kaffy_r) wrote,

Time Is Too Much With Us

I just found myself in tears as I listened to an album, one I first listened to in 1975, in Charlottetown, PEI, as a freshly minted reporter at the fine old age of 19-going-on-20. I listened to it with Janet Sears, one of my newsroom colleagues, and one of my closest friends at the time. She was a sweet-faced, wryly funny woman of character, toughness and complete goodness. We were dealing with heartbreak, but we were dealing with it together, and she helped me with her laughter. I hope I
 helped her, as wellShe died of ovarian/cervical in the late 1990s, and I miss her. 

I didn't mean to cry. But yesterday, my brother called me and told me that Joei Stevens, my first boyfriend, my first love, the boy whose virginity I took (and he mine), died last week.

I saw him again, a few years ago, and it wasn't a bad conversation. He'd been a theater major when we met - my mother worried about the fact that I was 16 and he 21, but she had him over for dinner, and decided he was a good boy.

He was.

The world was a little too much for him; he was an anomaly in his farming/fishing family. They loved him, but didn't understand him. He ended up becoming a librarian, and I think he liked that a great deal, but I think he might have faintly regretted, or more than faintly regretted, not having stayed in his theater world. He never, as far as I know, had another serious relationship after me. He lived alone. I am glad to hear from Mac that he had friends who visited him for the very short time he was in hospital (something like a day). 

But he's gone, too. 

And last week, I learned about Maggie. 

I know it's what happens at my age. 

But listening to that album unexpectedly kicked me in the teeth. 
This entry was originally posted at https://kaffyr.dreamwidth.org/762275.html?mode=reply, where there are currently comment count unavailable comments. You can comment there or here, but prefer to read over on DW. You can comment there using open ID if you don't have a DW account.
Tags: life in the circus, passages, sorrow

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