My Friend Kenneth
By Michael Woyan
Page 9
The month went by very quickly, with Ken
having to spread his time between lots of
people who wanted bid him adieu. We had time
together, but never enough to resolve anything
of any importance. As a matter of fact, we
never actually discussed anything of weight
at all. Then about a week before his scheduled
departure it became clear to me that he had
no intention of ever saying good-bye to me.
So it came to pass that the evening before
his flight there was going to be reception
of sorts for him downstairs at The Old Town
Ale House. I didn't invite the girlfriend
who was the teacher with the substance problem,
but my roommate Todd was dating her girlfriend
who was in attendance and reported to her
directly that I was kissing the other woman
in my sadness of the day's loss to come.
Kenneth, however, held court in fine form.
The following morning, the last that Kenneth
would spend stateside, I awoke to him and
his friends drinking bloody marys in my kitchen
carrying on in a lively way. The phone rang
for me and it was the schoolteacher, the
woman with whom I'd told I only wanted to
be friends to help her through her difficult
time, screaming at me in full fury about
how I'd wronged her by kissing a woman I
wanted to kiss the night of my regret. I'm
holding the phone away from my face in confusion
as to why I should care about any of this
at all, when everyone left the apartment
at once. I hung up, threw the phone against
the wall thinking that Kenneth had left forever
without my having an opportunity to say my
good-byes, regardless of his wishes. I was
heartbroken. I thought about pouring myself
an angry drink and then thought better of
it. Then I decided to sit in front of my
computer and put my thoughts to paper. In
a flurry of emotional excess and release,
I wrote this, in a single draft:
Fare Thee Well
A thousand toasts
of words not really found
Love known
not needing to be expressed
The fullness of expression
in everydays together
Rich emotional ambiguity
Like children, should not be bound
My sadness about your leaving
is but a fraction of my gladness for having
you here
Shared smiles
Many miles
that bring us to this day
What's been done
is now undone
and we end up where we started
Refreshed for another journey
This one richer for the nourishment
in knowing that we've given more than we've
taken
It's a gift this next step we take
We get to hope for
"until we meet again"
Love and live thee well
my imperfect mirror man
For the room that you enter is a bit brighter
for all of us that aren't there with you
It is us that was blessed
and that blessing is the shadow
which makes this step sure and true.
Just as I completed the final formatting,
everyone including Kenneth, returned! They
hadn't left after all. They just went down
the street for breakfast. I printed out copies
for everyone and there among these men of
few words was nary a dry eye in the apartment.
My good-bye was complete, without an ounce
of regret for either of us. He then suggested
that we all join him for a joyful Irish wake
of a drink in our bar downstairs until his
final retreat. It was then and there that
he gave me the greatest compliment I'd ever
heard from him. We raised a glass, he looked
at me and said, "To the most European
man I've met in America."
It was the gift of my self that Kenneth gave
back to me so I could eventually create the
poem to express my thoughts of him about
this passage, a moment not to be missed and
one that can't ever be retrieved except in
memory. I've since read that this circular
nature of friendship is distinctly Celtic,
my awareness of which I also owe to Kenneth.
Ironically, my friendship with this special
Irishman also provided me with a more textured
and enriched perspective of my Chicago, too.
Kenneth's epiphany did come to him at home
in the west of Ireland. He and his brothers
talked once about seeing apparitions at the
gravesite and having conversations with Bernard
in dreams. Such are the stories of magic
on the Blarney Island. I have nothing to
disprove them, and I'm uncertain I would
want to if I could. Eventually, Kenneth recovered
from Bernard's passing, but I think America
became a bit less interesting for him after
that. He languished in London for a year
or two, had some small successes in the European
currency markets, but I suspect Kenneth began
to like London less when he ceased to be
a guest. He's now following a trail of formidable
crumbs left by the "Celtic Tiger"
of economic prosperity, providing Internet
service to businesses in the west of Ireland.
I've recovered, too. My Mother found her
peace in passing; my brother found his in
recovery and in a new life.
The day that Kenneth left for Ireland that
last time, I knew that things would never
again be the same. In fact, they never were.
In the time since my friend Kenneth left
many things have changed. Owned now by real
estate speculators, Old Town has become less
interesting, the Ale House less friendly
and the demographic more homogeneous. A few
years later I moved out of Old Town in the
wake of these changes. But the relevance
of what was learned there during our coming
of age has not been one of them. We only
get what we give in this world. I'm convinced
that no one is going to love us until we
do some loving first. Usually it doesn't
cost us a nickel. Kenneth used to say that
there are no dress rehearsals in the theater
of living, but only a single main performance.
I am infinitely grateful that I didn't miss
mine with him.