Michael had died. As sure as life meets death he had left the blue planet and I was quite alone in the world. Bereft of the man I had loved and cherished for nigh on a decade.
It was hard, it was sad, sure it was and nothing that had ever happened to me before had hit so hard. All the time I was thinking just how wonderful it was to share, not just a deep meaningful relationship, but all the that went with it; the feel of him there beside me, the smell of his pipe and his shaggy tobacco, the touch of his hands fondling and exploring the way only Michael could do, the absoluteness of his fuck warming and gratifying and forever fresh every time we bonded.
Now -all gone forever. All those feelings, the loving and the good times we shared together, an infinite paradise which I thought would go on and on forever and ever.
But Michael was gone. He was gone for good and for all time. No more Michael, no more anything. Finite!
I kept telling myself; 'life moves on, think of the joy and happiness Michael emitted to you, and vice versa. You made him very happy and you know when you found him, in the allotment shed, the secret place where you shared your intimacies. He was just sat there, on his old chair, quite dead but with a smile on his face and a note in his clutched hand."
His first words I will always remember, He looked at me saying it was nice to see a girl around doing an allotment, and even better because my plot was adjacent to his. I took to him at once and to be honest, I first thought of him like a sort of father figure, he being at least forty years my senior. But without my even imagining I could fall hook, line and sinker for a guy like Michael . His charisma was electric and this agile girl in her early twenties was already to start again after a disastrous teenage romance which never really got anywhere. Perhaps that is what I wanted without knowing it; an older guy, much wiser and steady, and mature!
His allotment shed was more like a lavish apartment room, all done up with wallpaper and mod con's, step inside and you'd never know it was just a large hut, it even had a very comfortable bed which hinged down from the wall panel and a small twosome sofa. We spent many a wonderful time together in our love nest extraordinaire , as Michael liked to call it.
Michael knew he was going, sure he did but in the note he apologized for not having the courage to tell me. But it concluded; "I will be with you very shortly in a way I think you will cherish me, I want that. The delivery man will bring you something very special after I am interred, after I am cremated. We shall be together for always, I promise Janine."
Michael was nigh on 65 when he died but had the stamina of a guy much younger and was richly gifted with quality and consideration that made our intimacies so very warm and wonderful. I never knew he had heart problem, that's who he died. I hoped I had nothing to do with that after our rather passionate secret times we shared together. I talked to a friend who was a Doctor about it and she consoled me, saying "think of it this way Janine, you gave an old man a lot of joy and happiness in the Autumn of his life, so what was meant was meant, it is quite likely he would have had the heart attack anyway, if he hadn't of known you - because of the stress and strain of being lonely, You out that to rights by all accounts, Janine"
A didn't go to the funeral. I don't think I could have faced that. I wanted to remember him as he was, when I found him with that warm smile on his face. He didn't look at all like I thought a dead person might look and when the paramedics turned up they too could not believe he was gone, until they felt for his pulse.
I cried, sure I did. The Para's asked if I was his daughter and to save a long explanation I said I was.
I guess I wept on and off for a couple of days after the funeral but three days later, coming back home from work I found a note from the Post Office, advising that a parcel was awaiting my collection.
It was from a firm called Artmolds and I was curious not having ordered anything from them. Then it occurred to me - the package Michael had mentioned in the note he left.
Collecting it I carefully undid the packaging. A notice accompanied it endorsed "In memory of Michael Holt". Then another note tucked inside which was obviously composed by Michael, written in a dignified type: "To keep our love alive, and remember I will always be there with you." and when I opened it and saw what was inside I was flabbergasted, a little shocked but then I felt a certain warmth when I saw that it was made from the ashes of Michael Holt deceased.
I had read about ornaments and such- like being made of a loved one's ashes; but who would have thought of such a beautiful memoriam but Michael himself. I remember one time we talked about how the Japanese excel in sex toys, in making molds of male and female genitalia. He shared my enthusiasm always for good conversation and maybe that is one of the things which drew us together. I recall his mention of cyber skin, also known as thermal plastic, being a brand-name of a soft elastomer material that mimics the experience of human skin; warm and soft to the touch, yet with a firm underlying texture
I thought maybe he was hinting we should try them, little did I know he had something else in mind.
But what emerged from the package came in the form of a perfectly shaped penis in all its erect glory, Michael knew exactly what it would mean to me, and he also knew I wasn't the squeamish type and I knew it just had to be a perfect replica of the part of him that had given us both so much pleasure and satisfaction.
I was lost for words, I held it snuggled in the palms of my hands and it was as if certain radiant warmth flowed into my being.
