The call of one of our own, the loss of a friend and questions that have no answers
Sound the pipes; one of our own has been called home. I wish the circumstances could be different, I wish that action could be taken back, but I am not an apostle, and the deed has been done. I won’t remember you as a man who took his own life, left behind a daughter and another with your wife. I’ll remember the wide toothy grin down by the river in our hometown, all the nights and days we spent burning them down.
Truth be told I was once always jealous of you, handsome and fearless, smooth with the ladies you garnered a lot of female attention. You never pushed or excluded those around you, but you lit up a room and everyone in it. Like many I struggle to find the myths and reasons why, but we all have devils and demons mixed with heavens pride. I wish someone would hold your hand and take it off the trigger; those mistakes made cannot take back what was delivered.
I struggle with the falseness of people, relying on the instant and comments from those they don’t know. The fakeness of their core causes them to lash out and seek instant satisfaction. You my friend; where never this type of man. I will always be warmed by your energy and that damned grin, the ahh shucks attitude and the fact you knew you were always going to win. Our talks of becoming husbands and fathers, a chance to rewrite what was done to us, but those duties are now down to one and your voice is gone.
They all say to rest in peace but I want to rage, and not go quietly into that dark night. The moon and stars have you to bed now, I am blessed with the sun on my face and miles in my legs and now tears fall down to keys that write out my plea and beg you another chance. I hope you find the solace and grace you sought, and maybe through these words I’ll cast out my thoughts and make amends and find my own peace, love and appreciate what you did, the days you had and the life you lived.
I’m tattooed by the images of our summer days down by the river that bares our hometowns name. Underneath the underwear tree, swinging out on sturdy branches into the cool waters and climbing back up the bank, trying to persuade the girls without swimsuits to go in their panties and bras. Launching off the trestle with rocks to see who could touch the bottom, raising hell on First Street and painting the town. Nights out on the levy where the tide came in and nearly sunk our trucks, to waking up with cheap beer hangover’s and heading into town for breakfast with bloodshot eyes and a smile and hunger to do it all again.
Our ten year reunion, a chance to act out like rebellions; the whole crew large and back together again. I will not think of your last minutes and days, but I’m etched with that smile walking the streets, fields and shorelines of your town. Lean back brother, into the arms of your hometown, rest easy knowing we will never lose sight or forget the soul who brought us the smiles that cause these tears. Into the earth of your hometown where you laughed, cried and lived like any hometown boy should. I’m saddened by the ending and how it happened but I do not regret the years and days we shared neath star dotted sky and the bend of the river.