So, Happy Birthday

For a dear friend who died too young

Dear Ricky,

 

I received a reminder that your birthday

is in two days, it suggested that I send you a card,

maybe an email, or make a phone call.

 

I received a message in early August that

you’d had a stroke at the age of 33

and weren’t going to make it.

 

Somewhere there is an email to you

reminding you that in three days, it’s my birthday

and this year " it’s harder to celebrate.

 

You never thought you’d live to forty,

I didn’t see how drinking beer and playing

computer games was going to kill you anytime soon.

Although, you always thought a satellite would fall out of the sky

land on your head and that would be the senseless end,

maybe this was as close as you could get to that prediction,

 

I always hated it when you were right.

 

I think of all the times, I refused your advances

afraid of meaningless intentions, all the times you’d debate

yourself blue begging for my attention; and I laugh

to think if it wasn’t for our birthdays and our propensity

for libations that we wouldn’t have had the anniversary

to continue celebrating three days in a row

for two and a half years;

 

I wouldn’t have had my heartbroken when

you  said wanted to sow your oats,

and I wouldn’t be so proud

to say that you did,

 

You back packed in Europe,

you dated psychotic women and gorgeous party girls,

you worked, got promoted, fired and continued on,

 

Along the way, you buried your mother

who I loved so much and

through the years,

we would lose and gain touch…

Recently, when you played me “Yesterday when I was young”

by Roy Clark, I wept,  of course,

you called to apologize, and I’d like to think

we realized the passing of our youth and all

we’d left  so easily behind, I’m so glad we spoke at

such length. 

 

I have stolen many of your recipes,

meditated based on your late night routines,

seen a lot of butterflies lately and attribute it to you

somehow, as if your body cocooned you for something

greater in the next world.  

 

I still look back and get pissed off

when I think of how you would see me and linger -

when you were the one who chose to leave,

I can still remember the sobbing with disbelief,

and when it was finally over, I told you no matter how drunk,

or regardless how sober, I could never be with you again.

I could never allow myself to go back to what took me so long

to get over " but I’m so grateful, that you

were the one to break my heart, that I could have loved you

so much.

 

I still wear the ring you bought me as a souvenir in Solvang,

it was one of a kind

and you said I deserved nothing less than unique "

I remember giving you back the necklace

with your name written on a grain of rice,

that we got at the county fair,

I wonder if it is laying in your vacant apartment,

in some box, or in the back of your desk drawer.

 

 I didn’t have the strength to go to

your funeral, I know where I stood within your life

and I’m comfortable with all I have left, every image,

every sound, every private thought that we could only share,

the fourth of July in the Marina,

the long nights in Vegas, the hurricane by the Lake in a hot tent…

 

There’s nothing in this world that death could take from you.

 

You have left behind a legacy of time that can never

be replaced and even in your absence, you manage

to fill the vast space where so many souls seem to vacate

with haunting depth.

 

 Happy Birthday, I will miss you, always.

Reviews

[.]

that is incredibly moving..have read tributes on this site before..and all are beautiful in there own way, as they are not critquable..this however moved me to tears..it was touching, heartfelt, emotional and raw..and most of all - the intimacy that two people have for each other is played out with a beauty all it's own..thank you for sharing such a personal message..

[Emily B]

I saw glimpses of myself in your words . . . and conversations that I'll never have with those I've loved.

[Ed Hart]

you have shown us all what a tribute is