Kermit: In Memoriam
I know you didn't know what was happening, baby. You spent the night in a weird place last week as I drove off onto the beltway, and it didn't make much sense. I came back for you the next night, though, and brought you home, only to cover you in two feet of snow. But I uncovered you with care, and drove you out of the spot you've been occupying (mostly) for the past eleven months.
You must have thought it odd when a strange woman took your buttons off. She didn't know the stories, baby, and I'm sorry. But I wasn't strong enough to do it myself. I knew I would look at the signatures and read all the buttons, losing daylight and not having you nearly as pretty as you needed to be. So I asked her to help, and she willingly came over, even though she'd never experienced you before. Baby, I'm sorry you had to go through that.
I know I sounded odd when I muttered through the tunnel that this would be your last time. You were acting so much better, all of your parts working, like you knew what would happen today. After all those years of you being there for me, helping me move, sheltering me when I was homeless, letting me cry when I went through my break-ups.
Or the funnier times. Like when I repeatedly set myself on fire, or let loose a Coolatta. When Kayrin thought I was going 120 mph. When we went to and from Florida so many years. You know I almost always said "we" when driving? Da-ee once asked whom I was with, and I said, "Mr. Bear" because I didn't think he would understand your name.
You're getting old, baby. And you've been. If I could have been strong enough in June, we wouldn't be here right now. But after hip replacement and pacemaker, I just couldn't do it anymore. It was time to pull the plug.
I did my research, and looked up something comparable to you. Something I would feel comfortable in, would know how to drive, would feel like this, too, could be part of my Jess essence. And while no one, and I mean no one, baby, could take your place, you were starting to endanger my life.
Did you know how many times I prayed through Harrisburg? Or when I would look at the snow-covered streets and worry about being stranded? Or how a simple tick or a whistle would send me into a panic attack? Another issue, another time where I had to use someone else. You were always there for me, but you were no longer reliable.
We had a lot of time together; you figured after Poohgy was taken away and Maw-Maw died, you were basically my best friend. You were with me with Dufus and Meggie when we evacuated in 2000. You helped me get into college. You made friends with my friends! They decorated you with love and buttons, stories bloomed about you. I took pictures on top of you! There were conferences behind you, specialty decorations because of you, and so, so many stories, baby.
As I signed over that check and took that paperwork, I felt like I had betrayed you. I just couldn't do it anymore.
How many people have keys anyway? It used to be a sign of trust; my roommate, my partner, my parents. Now it's aunts and uncles, friends in faraway states.
How many couples have you observed, started, ended, sheltered? How many were taught your ways? How many were counseled?
I had wanted to tell you: Gracie left my parents earlier this year, and she had been with us ten years longer that YOU had. Maybe you'll see her. And maybe Poohgy too.
I also received an email from your godfather today. He wishes you well; I told him the news.
I know I left you again tonight, and you didn't see me tear up as I pulled out of the parking lot. Maybe it's petty. Maybe it's childish. But the truth is this has upset me in more ways than I care to imagine. They told me you would be going to a warmer retirement home; they may be lying, but it made me happy for a spell.
Please watch over us, me and your new counterpart, whom I'm thinking of calling "Onyx." He's just a baby, and he doesn't know what it's like to be in a long haul with me. Give us your blessing?
I love you, and already miss you. I know others will as well. I don't know what is going to happen from here, baby, but you'll always be loved by me...
... along with many others, documented on your ceiling.
Please feel free to leave your favorite Kermit stories here, for all of us to remember.