3B48 - Part 2

June 1st: 3B48 Part 2

The seeds of time can change a man but I still feel the same.

I looked down from the top of the broad hill adjacent to Pittodrie Stadium and reflected on this being the place where Davie had spent so many cold nights displaying his skills to the assembled Aberdeen football club coaches. He'd always dreamed of being offered that contract of apprentice footballer with his beloved Dons.

I panned round and gave the once over to the graveyard next to the ground and mulled over how harsh life had been to him - ending up six foot under in there instead. A glint from a car mirror caught my eye from the direction of Golf Road and I could see the funeral procession slowly but surely crawling towards us from the Linksfield end.

It had been an awful shock when Davie's brother Hen sent the letter to me. It was such a surprise, I hadn't heard from him since the mid-eighties and I assumed that it was him writing to say 'welcome to the new millennium, it's been a long time lets get together for old times sake'. I was laughing out loud telling my missus how we'd called him Hen because he looked like one but was never a chicken at any of the stunts we pulled as kids when the words choked me almost if I'd had my neck wrung like one of the aforementioned fowl. Kev dead - funeral next week - phone this number for arrangements.

As I drove the one hundred and sixty miles from our new home in Glasgow to the cemetery my thoughts were mixed. One minute I had feelings of real euphoria as I recalled mad moments from the past which just as quickly turned to deep despair as I felt guilt at not having made more of an effort over the last few years. I rationalised that Kev's drug problems were the first step in the decline of his mind. It had seemed to me that his life had turned into one continual downward spiral of depression and addiction to any drug he could lay his hands on, chemical or alcohol based, it didn't seem to matter to him but it did to me.

The last time we had met up was when I had gone through to Edinburgh for a lads' weekend where we were going to get it together and have a laugh. That's exactly what happened. I had been really looking forward to it and my wife was glad to see the back of me for a weekend so she could chill out and relax and catch up with her mates.

Kev met me straight off the train. We hit the pubs around the station then without any food visited the clubs just off the Grassmarket area. He had got it together. All he had to drink was mineral water. The new healthy Kev was terrific company. All the while I had been clinging onto my rucksack, but having a great laugh. He was in superb form, toasting everybody's health and floating on the crest of an euphoric tsunami. He explained that he'd lost sight of himself for a while and that he should have known better, he bitterly regretted the fight we had all those years ago. He convinced me that he had been clean for ages. It was clear to see.

He seemed reluctant to leave the last club we were in, he was having such a brilliant time dancing and losing himself in the music, and he appeared almost majestic. He kept on screaming over the music to me 'Hey boy - just dance'. It must have been about four in the morning when I flagged a black cab to take us back to his flat. He had gone very quiet in the taxi and now he was silent, he just kind of smiled. It must have been one of those moments - I didn't get it at the time but I think now Kev knew it was the final occasion we'd be together.

When they found him, he had cut his wrists, there was nothing in the flat - no furniture, no carpets, no hope. All he had left was a note and his records and CDs - but nothing to play them on. All the other material possessions that he had were in a builder's skip on the street. A neighbour had said he'd seen him systematically chucking away the stuff over the last few days.

The note explained how he had felt isolated for what seemed an eternity. He talked about how nothing mattered - nothing was important any more. Apart from music. Music mattered but it was inside his head and he could play what he wanted whenever he wanted because it was his head - nobody else could get into it. He mentioned that he wanted me to have his music collection, as I'd never changed - I was PURE - I had got it.

So we buried Kev, and funnily enough his family plot was in the same row as Davie's. They were reunited and perhaps Kev was showing him a few dance moves. In keeping with the wicked humour that we all shared, I smiled at his coffin in the grave and muttered 'let's see you get out of that then'. I got a few looks from the other mourners but the lads would have loved it.

My mind was racing as I drove back down the road in the dark North East of Scotland night. I switched to full beam and suddenly I was beginning to see things clearly.

He'd left his music for me, he knew that I had never changed. I never felt I had to, I always thought things just happened anyway. I didn't need a reason, I had the music in me. I felt liberated. I had carried the weight of Kev and the fight on my back since it had happened, but we both of us knew it didn't really matter but then again at the same time we both of us knew that it did. It was only now I could see it for the first time.

I smiled for both of us and had a wee frown for my two dead friends and consoled myself by thinking that when my time came I'd be beside them as our family plot was in the same cemetery. The only difference being that my piece of ground was eight rows from the top but they would be close by.

Three before eight to be exact.