Dear Diary,
I scored a call back at an audition today, for some band Howie Dorough is in. I kept seeing him at castings and he had been bugging me all the while to try out, so I went along to the audition yesterday and met the other guys. As well as Howie, there are these two kids: Alex and Nick. Alex is fifteen, real skinny and real hyperactive; Nick is thirteen, kinda quiet and has the most pushy mom I have ever encountered. She dropped him off at Howie’s house, where we were meeting up, and had barely introduced herself to me before she was telling me all about the big plans she has for getting the group a record deal and making her son a world famous millionaire with girls fainting at his feet. You have to feel sorry for the kid: he just glued his eyes to the floor looking faintly embarrassed as he listened to her. I get the feeling it wasn’t the first time he had heard that spiel.
I don’t think I have that great a voice. I mean, I can hold a tune, but I always figured that I might end up a musician or at most a backing vocalist. Despite that, my dream was always to be a famous singer, and I have to admit that yesterday, the four of us managed some pretty convincing harmonies. There was something – or rather, someone – missing, but I think we could be onto something with this.
I know Mom was upset that I moved back out here. She wanted me to stay in Kentucky, play at being man of the house now that Dad is gone and Tim and Jerald have moved out. But if it works out with the band, then it can only be described as fate. I hated to disappoint Mom, but there was no other choice for me. Something was calling me out here, something bigger than MGM! Dad knew it, and I realised in the months after his passing. That was what our last conversation was about, before we said our final goodbyes.
He was asleep when I opened the door, so I sat at his bedside and watched him. He seemed to sense my presence and woke up soon after I’d taken a seat. He looked over at me, his eyes shining, and smiled weakly. Then he told me he was so proud of me, and that the only way I could make him more proud to be my father was to follow my dreams and make sure I lived my life to the fullest, just as he had.
That was his reason behind not wanting me to grieve too hard: he had not wasted his life; he had always been content, always been happy. It was his time to go, he said, because there was nothing left to do. All that God had intended for him he had completed, so his time was up and he was dying happy. He said that if I wasted time grieving over him, I might miss the chance to be truly happy and satisfied myself. He squeezed my hand and told me to return to Florida and live my life as I was intended.
Then he held his arms open and hugged me and told me he loved me. We said goodbye. I tried so hard not to cry; after all he had just said about not wanting me to be sad for him I knew he would feel betrayed if I broke down. I sat with him and watched until he fell asleep, until Mom fetched me out of his room. It was so hard to go, knowing it would be the last time I saw him alive. I couldn’t bring myself to shut the door; it seemed so final. Eventually Mom had to pull me away and close it herself.
Dad died in his sleep two hours later.
I always wanted to be famous for music; always fantasised about performing to huge audiences. So that’s why this band audition is a step in the right direction. A chance to realise my dreams, just as Dad wants me to. I plan on using him and his final words to me as my inspiration from now on. He knew I could do anything I set my mind to. Now I’ve set my mind on this group, I’m going to try my hardest to make something of it. For him.
~ Kevin .
* * * *
“I’m going to start by thanking everyone for coming today in such difficult circumstances. It comes as no surprise to me to see so many people wanting to be here to pay their final respects. Mel was such a wonderful woman, so open, so kind and so generous; I can understand why so many people felt they needed to say goodbye.
“I could read you the rest of the speech I had written for today, but I’m not going to. Rereading it on the way here, it didn’t do Mel justice. Reciting from a repeatedly rewritten and revised piece of paper didn’t seem sincere enough. It didn’t reflect just how highly I valued Mel’s friendship, or quite how much I am going to miss her. Instead, I have made the decision to spend the next couple of minutes talking from the heart about my best friend. As a result, what follows may appear irrelevant to a great deal of you, or you might find it hard to relate your memories of Mel to mine, but I hope you respect that I want my words to be genuine and heartfelt. This is the best way that I know to accomplish that.
“Talking to mutual friends and family members, I have heard one recurring question. It is a question that I have asked myself many times in the last week: why? Occasionally it’s a question I consider because it seems unfair that Mel has been taken at such a young age. At other times, selfishly, it is because I wonder why she has been taken from my life. She has so often been the rock that I turned to when I needed a shoulder to cry on, or a silly comment to make me laugh, or some inspiring words to spur me on. I am not yet sure how I will cope without her.
“Each time I ask myself why, I already know the answer. I suppose we all do, subconsciously. This is her time to go. This is her chance for greatness; she is being given the opportunity now to fulfil God’s intentions for her in the next world. We have to let go now, keep our grief short. Mel wasn’t the type of person who liked to linger on the past. It sounds corny to say by all means remember her, but remember her with a smile. Think about the good times, cherish the memories and don’t dwell on the fact that she is gone. We will all miss her, but we will all see her again one day. It sounds corny, yes, but I can see the truth in it.
“Until then, Mel, if you are watching, these are some of the times I will never let myself forget. I will never forget doing your homework for you because you thought school inhibited your chance to live to the full extent. I will never forget that you thought the best way to cheer me up after my first boyfriend ditched me was to pull faces at me until I cracked a smile. I will never forget the time that as sixteen year olds, you blagged our way into a twenty-one plus night-club because you thought I didn’t have enough fun in my life. I will never forget our sleepovers, our double dates, our arguments. Most of all, I will never forget the best piece of advice that anyone ever gave me: that I always have the escape route option. For a long time, your friendship kept me from following your advice. Now that you are no longer physically here, I might just choose that escape route option. I know that’s what you wanted me to do.
“I could speak for everyone when I say that I love you and I am going
to miss you and that it’s tough to say goodbye, but here we are, trying
our best to say it anyway. However, I’m not going to speak for
everyone. I’m going to be selfish. I’m going to speak only for me: Mel, you
were my best friend and you always watched over me in the past. I hope you
will continue to now, until the day I can repay the favour. Unless I
screw up big time, I’ll see you later.”
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