No shots fired, no big reveals, and no balloons let go, just stillness. Only a landscape of sand in a climate that is not hot, is not cold, is not anything at all – just static, just teardrop after teardrop making its fall, to my cheek, my mouth, my breast.
One thousand jokes and one thousand references hang in the air, with nowhere to go. They move before my vision and then…just dissipate into grayness, into that invisible space known as “letting go.”
I have looked too often, for too many days, at the full library of pictures I have of you – maybe, say, 100 pictures, from when we were small, and when we grew up, and when you were here still. And – the picture of you printed on a huge poster, propped by shaky hands onto an easel at your funeral.
It seems you left a week ago, two weeks ago. I remind myself it has been much, much longer, pre-Covid even. That universal diseased marker of time stands between the events in this life – those things that happened before, those things that happened after, just like your passing stands as my personal marker of cracked time, “before he died. And after.”
Did you die? Go to somewhere far, far away – a place I cannot book a ticket to and I cannot reach by phone or by prayer, another abyss drop-off cliff chasm precipice – another one of those places where, one step past it, everything is simply unreachable and even one pace too removed, a world away from life.
I miss you, again. Dakj;fl – push the keys, push the keys.9ufepw SAY something thoughtful, meaningful, full. I’m quiet, I’m loud, I’m remembering, it’s all a blur and it went by too fast, it’s going too fast w/ewklj I’m losing track and I’m upset and
dfhdjd
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mary june brown 