08 January 2008
Must it be?

It’s getting harder all the time to write here on Bram’s blog. I never wanted to blog; Bram tried to talk me into it, but I told him I had nothing to say. And who would want to read my blog? My life was all about taking care of Bram and my kids, and making costumes for productions at my university. Each entry would be the same: “today I made costumes and talked to Bram on the phone several times. Then we came home and I made supper. We ate, then read or played on the computer or painted. We had our nightly half hour before bed chat, and we went to bed.” Repeat ad infinitum. Or I thought it would be ad infinitum.

I was happy to let Bram be the writer, and the public face of our relationship. I was satisfied to simply support him and encourage him in all his interests. I wanted Bram to be the star, the person people wanted to be with, to like, to emulate. It would frustrate me when Bram couldn’t get the jobs he wanted—why couldn’t everybody see how special he was, what a benefit he would be to any theatre company, to any kind of company, school, organization?

I think that Bram kept my demons at bay, kept me happy and calm. And sane. He’s been gone almost three months now and I am lonely and lost and so very sad. I’m also starting to feel bitter. I am bitter that at Christmas my mother told me I should be feeling better now. I will never feel better. I need Bram. I don’t know if anyone can understand how much. I think some people don’t want to know how much we needed each other.

When we lived in South Dakota, Bram had a pancreatic cyst. It was starving him to death and he wouldn’t go to the doctor. I finally threatened him with being carried to the doctor by two large friends and we found he needed surgery or he was going to die. The surgeon was honest with me; it would be a dangerous surgery. He called it “tiger country.” We walked down to the operating room beside Bram’s gurney, me and his family. And they each said goodbye and walked away. Except his mom. She wouldn’t leave so I could say goodbye to my husband. She was claiming her right as his mother, I guess. But I am his wife. I didn’t want to upset Bram before his surgery, so I leaned down and whispered to him, “Remember you promised I get to die first.” And I kissed him on his forehead and walked away. After the surgery, we all went to his room and his mother and I were the first ones through the door. When Bram saw me, he reached his hand out to me. I took it and drew closer. He smiled at me and whispered, “I kept my promise.”

But now his promise is broken and it’s the worst broken promise ever. I’ve endured many broken promises in my life, but this one, I just can’t get over. The sheer horror of it keeps me from looking at it squarely most of the time.

I wanted him to live forever.

For the last few days, I have been crying and I can’t seem to stop. I think I have been hiding the truth from myself all this time and it’s starting to push its way through. Bram is gone and I don’t know how to live without him. Bram is gone and not only has a bright light in the world gone out forever, but all my hopes and dreams have died as well. Bram is gone and I don’t want to believe it and I can’t face it. I’ll go crazy if it’s true. He was the best man I ever knew and the best thing that ever happened to me and I would trade places with him if I could, but I would never wish this pain on Bram. Why did I not prevent this from happening? Why didn’t I know heartburn meant heart attack? Why didn’t he tell me how bad he really felt? Why can’t we have just one moment in time to do over? All this time Bram let me believe I was the boss, but I cannot function without him.

Bram is dead and I wish I were too.

thought by Bram Davidson around 12:00 AM
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