Mac and Kim's House

My friend Mac, a musician, lived 12 miles east of Austin in a beautiful two-story redwood house with a wraparound porch on ten acres of rich Blackland prairie soil. The house was brimming over with a deep history of music, storytelling, drinking, and fun; every room was filled with photographs, art, and love. The enormity of his laughter and colorful British language and heart was reflected in every inch of the house. I used to watch his home when he was on tour - he hated leaving. He longed to come back to his Texas land, building fences, mowing the property on his tractor, and making trails in the woods.

I spent a lot of time in the house in different phases over the years of our friendship. In the beginning, there was Mac and Kim, his wife and dogs and a cat. Kim died, and there was only Mac and the animals left. In 2014 Mac had a stroke in his home, and two days later, he passed on surrounded by close friends, musicians, and hospital staff. Then it was us: the family, friends, and myself stumbling through grief and the physical artifacts of his life.

The property did not sell immediately, and the house was empty, but I still made the drive out of town whenever I could. Going to the house made me feel more connected to Mac. As soon as I walked in, I would open drawers, closets, and cabinets, searching but not knowing what I was hoping to find. I would come across items that weren't tossed out, and they became treasures. The treasures, while temporarily satisfying, were not going to sustain me. I realized I was looking for Mac. I became aware that he's here on a spiritual level while he is not physically here on earth. I feel his love and know that he is everywhere, and his life was more significant than his death, and that gets me through.

Mac and Kim front porch of their house. Photo by Dermot Kerrigan.