Grief has me looking for the one I’ve lost
Driving down main street in the truck, bikes on the tailgate, feeling wide for quaint small town downtown streets. We have been looking for the place to eat and on my right I see the words in neon, lit up Danger Dave’s. The yard was xeriscaped like a San Diego lawn. A simple building with a checkerboard ramp for wheelchair access. “We have to stop!” I shout. “Okay…” the reply. I pulled over, got out running, now across some grass but stopped just before the line and walked up slowly approaching a giant skeleton, head in hand, that I didn’t mention earlier. Brad took my photo out front. Feeling excited, shocked, uncertain, again the rush of anticipation came up again when we started walking in.
As you walk in the bar is bright taking up the whole room and a kitchen on the side. To the left of the door is a locker of metal baskets full of things to do, crafts, tools, like something you’d see in Tracy’s thrift store when she had the locker in the side room. This is so Dave. The gentleman at the bar greets us offering a seat to eat. We explain we’re not here to eat, only need a t-shirt or maybe five varying in size. No dice, stickers only for sale. The exchange happens, I take the stickers and I can feel this man’s concern for our longing in a sticker. We elaborate why we are here, our dear friend Danger Dave. He would have this place too. Thoughts blaze through, “Is he here… in the back?” “No” I hear my logical brain remind me, Dave has passed. My heart aches with rainbow coloured umbrellas I associate as sprinkles. “Dave’s not here man.”
I thank the man for being kind as my impulsivity groans for the one I’m looking for, unsettled by the similarities, and frustrated that my Dave isn’t here. We learn this man isn’t Dave either, “Just a worker bee!” “Keep buzzing” I say and leave. The whole experience ending, feeling an alt dopamine release, and this sticker in my hand is so right but the whole thing feels so wrong. Grief has me looking for my Dave, the one that I’ve lost. Grief has me looking at a space helmet, a martini glass, and a sticker that reads Danger Dave’s. If I had a plain ham sammy and a beer, I’d feel better.
1/3/25
Bentonville, AR
Ramsey Harvey
