Same Cloth, Different Color

Dead. You're not supposed to be dead. You were supposed to live forever. Or so you thought. You lived like there was no tomorrow and now, suddenly, there isn't.

But tomorrow isn't what I'm thinking about. It's yesterday. Twenty-two years of yesterdays ago. In the course of one weekend, which started standing at the open trunk of your car, you added so much to my life. Things I still treasure. Things that make me laugh and feel stronger and remind me to keep going. Things I have passed on to others, sometimes without giving credit where it was due. Friends now think of these things as mine, but I know they're yours on loan to me.

How did you die so quickly? Weren't you getting better? You were supposed to get better.

The last time we spent together was Bethlehem in 1999. Has it really been that long? Friends for six years and silence for much of the rest? I know why.

That last time it was you and Ann Marie and that girl I picked up who I never should have. Like the smiling devil you were, you sat on my shoulder encouraging the sin. It scared me less that I listened to you than that your voice effortlessly made all the angst seem so pointless. It was too much power for someone to have over me, so I walked away before it was too late. But first, I spent the night with that girl. I'm still not sure who was more pleased about that, me or you.

But it wasn't only that. As we once said, we were cut of the same cloth, but dyed different colors. Yours was a world of wenches and fantasy and bravado. Mine was a world of guilt and history and insecurity. Over time I felt our colors weren't as complementary as I once thought. I drifted away, but not without taking swatches of you with me.

Above all the rest, I still carry a little you-shaped devil with me. He's on my shoulder whenever I want to be puckish or bawdy. And if I say my mind at those times, he's behind the Cheshire cat smile on my lips. It's never as broad as yours, but it's there just the same.

Thank you for everything. All the Harpo handshakes (and knowing what they are), the sword-play, the aimless drives that went somewhere, the Dark Side, and Tom Lehrer. Mostly, thanks for making me a fuller person.

You have done well. But it'll take time. You are generations being born and dying. You are at one with all living things.... You have power beyond imagination. Use it well, my friend.