Part Two.

I have only great memories of Dave. He was a good friend of my dad's before he started dating my aunt. And I remember being very happy that he was going to be a member of our family.
He always had a smile, for everyone.
He always made it a point to ask how you were doing, even if you were just a kid.
He took us tubing and water skiing.
He bought my grandma flowers, just because.
He let me drive his truck all the time, even though I was only 13 and even though I almost wrecked it once.
He looked a lot like Ned Flanders.
His laugh was contagious and you could tell just by looking at him that he'd give you the shirt off his back and his last drink of water in the desert.

And I had just told his brother that he was very much alive, taking a stroll through the yard.

Standing there, that was my first thought. I had just told this dead man's brother that he wasn't dead. I felt instant guilt, and extreme confusion.
I walked slowly towards Dave, on the ground, on his back. His glasses weren't on.
My dad tried to stop me for a moment, but I had to get closer. He let me keep walking.
It's strange how I remember that 30 foot walk, through the dining room, into to living room. I remember it second by second, but it's all in silence. I had blocked everyone else out.
And as I approached him, my question was answered. He was wearing camo. Hunting gear. It was autumn, afterall. Deer season.
It was exactly what he was wearing when I saw him walk across the yard, 3 minutes earlier.
I got cold instantly.
A First Responder, who was also a family friend in this small town, came up to me and told me he had been carrying in fire wood. He said it looked like he died very quickly and painlessly.
Later we found out it was a brain aneurysm.

The months following aren't as sharp in my memory.
I know we all attended the funeral, and as I walked into the viewing room, I broke down sobbing, loudly. I remember being embarrassed about that. And realizing I shouldn't be.
I know my aunt took it extremely hard, and we were all worried about her.
I know my best friend, C, and I started hanging out there a lot. I don't remember why. We were 15 or 16, and hanging out with a 40 year old women wasn't the norm, but we did it anyway. My aunt's daughter, my cousin, wasn't around. She was living far away with her boyfriend. I guess we just didn't want my aunt to be alone so much.
We had rediculous amounts of fun though. She'd let us drink, as long as we never left the house. She'd drink with us sometimes. We played a lot of drunken yahtzee and gin rummy, did a lot of laughing. I'd like to think we helped her.
And somewhere along the line, because of my friend C's family problems, my aunt sort of adopted her. C moved in, which meant I was there even more often. I sort of felt like I lived there too.
One night, we were standing around in the kitchen, eating pizza. The under-counter radio turned on by itself, playing Pretty Woman.
"Weird," I said. "That thing wouldn't work the other day."
My aunt had stopped eating. "That's because it hasn't worked in a few years."
She paused, and I saw tears in her eyes. "Dave sang this song to me once, in the truck. Being goofy. We were driving home from the bowling alley. It was sort of our song."
C and I exchanged looks and again, I felt cold.
"I think he's still here, you know," my aunt said as she walked away.