I still miss him.
As I write, it's been seven months since Kevin slipped away from this earth. And at the same time each month, I become reflective and I remember him. Sometimes, it's an unbidden memory. Other times, I'll look at the date and the grief gently washes over me. I don't mind though. I like thinking of him.
Sometimes, the memories are fresh and alive, almost like yesterday. I can close my eyes and remember the feeling of sitting in the Masonic in San Francisco as Kevin began singing that Elvis song, "In the Ghetto." Chills ran down my spine. I thought I could hear the King himself through him. The exhuberant audience had hushed as he sang. How I wish I could relive that moment again.
And other times, the memories are like fading dreams leaving only an impression of feelings. The last time I saw him, in Pasadena. Such a crowd of people for autographs and "security" was a bit tight. Understandable, but somehow less personal.
I always thought I'd see him again.
I almost went to his last convention. After reading the reports, I wish I had. I thought it was ironic that on the day I found out about his passing, I was leaving for Phoenix, the site of his last convention. While in Arizona, I wondered if I somehow walked the same path he did when he was there. At the hotel bar, I had a beer in his memory.
Yes, I still think of him. And yes, I miss him. But I am thankful for having the chance to have met him, for being witness to his beautiful talent, for sharing a moment with him.
And I think that the same time each month, I'll remember him all over again.
15 September 2002
Hayward, CA USA