oh, bo

When I would think of Him in the days after the Memorial, my brain would say, Oh, Bo!. It was a tender conjuring that just spilled forward when I was no longer saying, My Friend.

Oh, Bo! Why did you die? Oh, Bo! Why did you have to die?

Oh, Bo!, had another meaning in an entirely different context in the months (and years) prior to his death. It was his favorite phrase (probably second to I love you).

He loved it when I whispered his name during sex. Oh, Bo! It charged him, my stallion. I wasn’t whispering to be sensual. I whispered because he took my fucking breath away to the point of where I had little strength to fully power my vocal chords. He said it made him feel wanted. He thanked me. He always thanked me. I loved him for that because that was also a practice in which I partook (thanking lovers for great sex).

The more I got to know Him, the more of a breaking man he seemed to be — breaking, not broken. Actually, I felt sorry for him. He wanted the sex. He wanted to be wanted/He didn’t feel desirable. He needed affection. He wanted emotion (and it was this that he seemed to need most of all). It caused me pain to read his texts and to listen to him talk about these things. I didn’t want him to feel what he was feeling because a Man shouldn’t have to feel like that. But I didn’t really have many of those things to give Him, originally. Oh, Bo!

Does anybody talk about grief and sex? the flashbacks that hit you when you don’t want them but feel your libido rising…the Oh, Bo’s, and waking up in the morning damp and post orgasm…the hair raising on the back of your neck and feelings of kisses on your shoulders and ears…the trying to recall all the times you did it from the back because you know it wasn’t that many because he wanted to see your eyes and be close to your body, so you wonder if you are getting it confused with your old lover/not current lover anymore who loved doggystyle but you really didn’t like it all the time [with him] because it feels impersonal and then you remember why you can feel the penetration so deeply and vividly because that was how you had sex in the beautifully blue-green Gulf waters — back to chest, His hands trying to pull out my breasts, or clenching my hips, my head tilted to one side, hands grabbing his thighs, pulling his shorts, keeping Him close, while standing on tippy toes trying not to get knocked over by the waves, or just letting him suspend me, float me, as I rock with Mother Nature…all eyes on us, but hopefully not, though I didn’t mind the lookers..because I was more concerned with Mother Nature clouding our otherwise clear vision and planting a For Lover’s Only celestial seed…because it is so simple when you have been tilling the land and whispering sweet promises to it while rising above Earth together.

So, how do I replace this? What am I replacing it with…in the now, in the interim, in the future?

Today, I had another migraine that originates in the back of my neck. Last week, I had one that I felt for almost three days. I think I am just nervous about his birthday coming up. Nervous? I am sad. Although we shouldn’t have been talking at this point, I was going to surprise Him and call him for his birthday — especially since I hadn’t really acknowledged it in the past (I didn’t know the exact date until this past summer.). If only I could have made his birthday as special as he made mine…

Oh, Bo!