I have never been here before. Never held on to a grief like this, let
it sit into my bones, weigh down the muscles, the tissue fibers. I am
not yet accustomed to the extra weight that has settled despite the hole
you left.
I wouldn't presume to call us best friends. But I guess it takes a person's absence to realize all the places in your life that they inhabited. You were always there. Wing nights, christmas parties, math help, pumpkin patch visits, late night bus rides. With those intense eyes, stares held too long, big smile and arms ready to enfold. Even when you were in terrible moods, you controlled a room, impossible to ignore.
I used to think about you everyday. Because I sill had your sweater, product of a late night, wine-fueled adventure up a mountain. I got cold, and you were always the perfect gentleman. Bundled me up, checked I would get home safe, smoothed my hair before I stumbled home. Your sweater dyed all my socks red in the wash. You brought it up every time you saw me. And so I hung it in my room, and everyday I saw it and thought "I really need to give that back to Andy".
On New Years Eve, you came to pick me up, a bunch of oversized boys crowded into my front doorway. You reached out to hug me, and I suddenly remembered, ran upstairs and grabbed the sweater. You laughed so hard, and then left it in your car. I don't think you ever even put it on. And the night filled up with beer pong games, fire building, you dancing on the table in those stupid shoes, so prepared for hiking the next day. When midnight came, you insisted I open the champagne, put your hands over mine as you showed me how to do it. We blew the cork over the neighbour's fence, you poured glasses for everyone, your laugh was lit up by sparklers.
That was 11 days ago. No time at all. I can't reconcile the image of your laughter with the grief filling the cathedral on Thursday. You left us all searching the shoreline for answers we will never find.
What happens now? I have never been here before. You were full of laughter, more charm than you had any right to, so much life and a smile that made people fall in love with you, everytime. I hope these memories stay, that their sweetness outlasts the sting that barbs them now. And most of all, Andy, I hope you recognized the love that always wrapped you, and that you're somewhere laughing still.
I wouldn't presume to call us best friends. But I guess it takes a person's absence to realize all the places in your life that they inhabited. You were always there. Wing nights, christmas parties, math help, pumpkin patch visits, late night bus rides. With those intense eyes, stares held too long, big smile and arms ready to enfold. Even when you were in terrible moods, you controlled a room, impossible to ignore.
I used to think about you everyday. Because I sill had your sweater, product of a late night, wine-fueled adventure up a mountain. I got cold, and you were always the perfect gentleman. Bundled me up, checked I would get home safe, smoothed my hair before I stumbled home. Your sweater dyed all my socks red in the wash. You brought it up every time you saw me. And so I hung it in my room, and everyday I saw it and thought "I really need to give that back to Andy".
On New Years Eve, you came to pick me up, a bunch of oversized boys crowded into my front doorway. You reached out to hug me, and I suddenly remembered, ran upstairs and grabbed the sweater. You laughed so hard, and then left it in your car. I don't think you ever even put it on. And the night filled up with beer pong games, fire building, you dancing on the table in those stupid shoes, so prepared for hiking the next day. When midnight came, you insisted I open the champagne, put your hands over mine as you showed me how to do it. We blew the cork over the neighbour's fence, you poured glasses for everyone, your laugh was lit up by sparklers.
That was 11 days ago. No time at all. I can't reconcile the image of your laughter with the grief filling the cathedral on Thursday. You left us all searching the shoreline for answers we will never find.
What happens now? I have never been here before. You were full of laughter, more charm than you had any right to, so much life and a smile that made people fall in love with you, everytime. I hope these memories stay, that their sweetness outlasts the sting that barbs them now. And most of all, Andy, I hope you recognized the love that always wrapped you, and that you're somewhere laughing still.
How is this real?
ReplyDeleteWhat I wouldn't do for one more of his hugs.