I am at my parents house these days, and the room Im in has some nifty family history in it, like our baby books. I also found a book I had made when I was in grade school— I wrote it like a book for really little kids— Herman the rabbit and his pal Freddy the skunk have a party. It was fun to read it. When I got to its end, I had one of those infinitesimal flashes of wanting to tell Fritz about it. I know he would have loved it. I dont get many slivers of time of forgetting hes gone. The trauma of his death consumed all the air in my immediate world and seared my synapses. But its moments like these that re-arouse my sympathy for everyone else who loved him— all the people who DIDNT live with him. For you, those moments still come, along with the instant recollection of reality, like lumber falling from the sky: absurd, outrageous, painful. When you dont live with someone, their absence is part of your normal, so the normal Cant wait to tell Fritz probably still blooms with all its hope and joy. The galaxy of my life with Fritz collapsed in an instant. For all the others who love him, the stars continue to blink out one by one, and its really you I weep for at moments like these.
Posted on: Mon, 31 Mar 2014 14:07:41 +0000
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