Reports from the Bunker

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June 4, 2010 – It has been four years and still, I grieve for you, we all do, though we seldom speak to each other about it anymore, having taken our grief into privacy, secrecy. We hardly speak your name if it can be helped.

I find no shame in admitting that I break down from time to time, Veronica neither, we are perhaps more open with our pain. I can tell you that I still cannot listen to Tool, Alice in Chains, or Hendrix’s Mary.

I saw your daughter this past weekend, M brought her up to see us. She is so vibrant, smart and endearing. We had fund together, but it was bittersweet, as it always will be.  We are becoming family people, Andrew has a baby, Mike and Rose have two children now. I for my part have two boys, being for all intents and purposes their step-dad. You, you came first, you should have been on that plane with M and your daughter, having lead the charge into parenthood. She was something else on the go-karts man and it would have made you cackle and puff up with pride.

Everything, everything from here to eternity is spotted with a certain sourness. So much has changed for me, sober almost two years now and I have a wonderful woman in my life, she has two great kids and though it is a struggle we are pulling together a promising future. I can share none of this with you,  you took that from all of us and that singular thought is present now at every step of my journey, whether I am doing well or poorly and no matter to what degree on either side, you are not and never will be there to share with, to lean on, to laugh with.

I hate that it is your absence, rather than your presence that now lends a hand in creating the shape of things to come for all of us.  It is unfathomable to me how fresh this wound remains after four years.  I would trade anything, strike any deal to have you come back to us. I told Veronica that I spend no small amount of time considering that there must be a way, a trick of science or some deity to bargain with. I know, it is not possible, but my mind gets trapped, stuck on it.

I miss you my friend, my brother, my tribesman. I love you.


Written by jamesjanus

June 4, 2010 at 11:41 am

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