A Memory
I’ve been sleeping all day. And crying.
Somewhere between the world of the sleeping and the world of the waking, I recalled a memory of something Eric said to me at the party on Saturday.
He helped Allen carry my drunk ass out to my car, put me in the passenger seat. Allen got in the driver seat, ready to go.
This is the part I want to remember the most, but a part of it is fractured. He turned to Allen and he said:
“Allen, you see this man right there? This man is our brother. It is your mission, it is your duty, to make sure nothing happens to this man. If something happens to this man, I’ll fucking kill you.”
I’m going to have to ask Allen what it was he said exactly. I just sort of paraphrased it from my drunken memory.
A lot of memories have been coming back to me about him today. I’ve been thinking about him all day. At 1900 (7 PM) I’m suppose to meet up with his brothers (real brothers) to hang out.
I’ve been dreaming weird dreams. Dreams that don’t make sense. I had a flying dream too. But there was no sky, or ground. There was nothing. But I somehow knew I was flying.
Thankfully, fittingly, it’s raining here in El Paso. It never rains, but for Eric, it rains this day.
Eric spent some time living in Florida too, ya’ see. Coccoa Beach. We use to reminisce about hurricanes, and how we missed that kind of weather…
I miss you, Eric. You were my friend. I’ll never forget you.
He sounds like an amazing guy who truly understood the importance of family, blood or not. The world is a sadder place now that he is no longer here.
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He seemed like a good soldier and friend!
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Found you on random and my heart breaks for you and the loss of your friend. And I want to thank you for your service… I am glad to hear you are coming back to the states soon.. Keep safe, ok? And I want to post this poem… seems appropriate for the loss of your friend and comrade: Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods; For nothing now can ever come to any good. — W.H. Auden (was spoken in the movie Four Weddings and a Funeral.. and just broke my heart…)
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8/14/10 *hugs*
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