Monday, July 15, 2013 marks the 15th anniversary of the death of JJ La Rue, my boon companion and helpmeet, my wife of 18 years. I dream of her often. I miss her sorely. I wish I could tell her about so many things. I would buy her a smart phone. I imagine teaching her how to use the internet.
She went everywhere with me in the first part of this temporary musical European exile that became so permanent. She was the only person who knew how to pack my gear. She lit my stage show for 15 years. She was a hell of a cook. She could make dinner out of the nothing which we often had. I remember her canned mackerel wonton from the days we could afford only flour and the 20 franc cans of fish.
She was an excellent cartoonist. It is tragic that we were able to keep almost none of her work in our often frantic and disordered flight around the world.
We loved each other. Sometimes I would look across the room where we would disappear into our television during the hungry Brussels years and I would find it difficult to distinguish between us.
She became ill from Primary Pulmonary Hypertension, a one in a million condition that almost no one knew how to treat and which demolished her fragile constitution like a runaway freight train at the end. Before I knew it, she was gone. Poof. Vanished from the face of that particular iteration of all things. Before my very eyes. I watched the heart monitor become a flat line. Beeeeep. It was 19:45 hours, July 15, 1998. I went out and poured dirt over my head. I wailed.
Now, time has healed all things, or at least it has dispensed new sorrows, further joys. I knew it would. When I dream of her, she is living still in Brussels, alive all this time. She has been hiding from us, hidden from our gaze and that of the landlord who has forgotten she is there. I tell her I am with someone else. She understands. And then I awake.
Oh, we all miss you JJ. Perhaps we will meet again, afterwards. We can compare notes and have a laugh. We always had a good laugh together, you and I.
visit the JJ La Rue Memorial Page at mundoblaineo and leave a message in the guestbook.