17 November 2007
Bram loved

Last night I had to kill a spider all by myself. I know it would’ve made Bram sad. I have a stupid phobia about spiders. I know it’s irrational (kinda the definition of a phobia), but they terrify me. I will abandon a room if a spider walks in. They are pretty much the only things that can make me scream like a girl. Bram thought spiders were cool. He said they were good for the environment and helped balance the ecosystem, and they killed mosquitoes. Mostly, though, he just thought they were cool.

Bram’s mom often tells the story of his pet spider. I’ve said before that Bram disliked housework. Apparently he was born with that aversion. Karen says that Bram’s bedroom was always a mess. She says one time after they moved, she was helping Bram unpack and arrange his room. She opened a box they had hauled across the state and it was full of garbage. Bram had packed and moved a box of trash! Karen says once when Bram was in high school she was having a problem with bugs in the house. She tracked down the source of the infestation—you guessed it. Bram’s room. So she cleaned it. She cleaned the daylights out of that room. When she closed the door to clean behind it, she discovered a huge spider web. She said it looked like it hadn’t been disturbed for months and the web was big, strong, and tunnel like. When she looked inside the web, there sat a fat happy spider. She promptly vacuumed that spider to death. When Bram got home, he went to his room and then came running to her and asked, “Where’s Bill?” The fat happy spider had been Bram’s pet. Apparently Bram had been catching flies and other bugs and feeding bill. That spoiled spider didn’t even have to do his own hunting.

That story gives me the creeps, but I am absolutely sure it true and not the least exaggerated. Bram knew my immense fear of spiders, but he wouldn’t let me kill them. Not that there was much danger of that. My fear is so great that I can’t get close enough to them to step on them. They might see me coming and jump on me, and then where would we be? Bram would explain patiently that spiders don’t jump and they are more afraid of me than I am of them. Which, believe me: no chance. The only way I can kill them is to spray them very thoroughly with bug spray and run away. This horrified Bram, as it is a long and agonizing death (if you stick around to watch). A death they deserve for being a spider, if you ask me, but Bram said they were noble and just doing their jobs and they can’t help that they are ugly. So Bram took care of spiders for me. As soon as he heard me yelp, he would come find me. No hesitation, no “Be there in a second, baby.” He came right away—I’ve never really been sure if it was to save me or to save the spider. But the point is, I yelped and he was there. With something to scoop the spider up in and gently deposit the creature back outside. I’ll bet once they were outside, Bram probably had a discussion with the spider about the dangers of coming into the crazy lady’s house.

I’m thinking that Bram’s treatment of spiders somehow exemplifies how Bram lived his life. No one was below Bram’s notice. No one was undeserving of Bram’s love and attention. Not even ugly spiders that terrified his wife. Bram never held a grudge and he treated everyone with respect and love. He always tried to look beyond bad behavior and try to find the reasons for it. And if he couldn’t understand why someone was behaving badly, well Bram loved them anyway. He seemed to feel that every creature on earth deserved love and understanding, respect and compassion. And I am really starting to believe, after so many people have shared with me their memories of Bram, that everyone who met Bram loved him. How could we not?


P.S. Thank you to everyone who has called and written to me about Bram’s clothes. Many of you have suggested I make quilts or other crafts out of them and give them away. I think possibly in the long run, this is the very best idea. But right now, I need them and they will stay in the closet and his dresser. Many of you have said that I should leave them there until I’m ready to move them. Thank you for understanding how hard it is to let go of his belongings. I am an anal-retentive neat freak and the day before Bram died I cleaned and washed everything in the house—even our bed sheets. Nothing in the house smells specifically of Bram. I think I would have comfort if I could smell him, but I took care of that, so I need his things here to look at.

thought by Bram Davidson around 1:29 PM
2 things said by the gallery