When Death Comes

Dear Loren, I speak with you often these days. It seems that many of our landmarks all over the city now have your name on them. Of course every time we cross the river we call out to you. Fire in the trees. Dark river flowing. The wonder of it all. I wonder how it is for you now. I do not think you miss us as we miss you. You are free. Free of the burdens of human emotion. Free of the constraints of the human body. Sometimes it brings me comfort thinking of your new found freedom. But today I am so sad. I miss you terrible. I want more time with you. I want my boys to have more time with you. If I had known time was so short I would have made different choices. I would have made sure to get more hugs from you. To linger there. To see your joy. To feel my sorrows evaporate in your presence. And I really do want one more dance. I didn’t dance often, but being on the dance floor with you was one of the most beautiful experiences I have had. Laughter and joy deep down. Deep down and through out. I want another chance to sit with G&T’s on a hot August evening as we hose the giggling and screaming boys down, chatting away about the fence you are building, or some dream project of my own. fToday I am stuggling to let go. Today I do not want all the fucking beauty that comes and surrounds us in the wake of your passing. I want to scream how miserable it is that you are no longer on the other side of the river, in your quiet fortress, reading and dreaming and creating. No more treasure hunts. No more promises of a paddle on the river. No more uncle Loren. GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!!! This too is ture.

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