#102
Saturday, August 22nd, 2009From Brian to Bobby
August 22, 2009 – 3:08pm
My dear friend,
Your dad called me this morning to tell me what happened last night. I am so sorry for him and your family, and you, of course. You were too young and had too many wonderful and thoughtful things to bring to the world yet. It’s impossible for me to believe this. Right down to my core, you are bigger than life…
To me at this moment you are still here, so I just want to say things to you that I would say to you ALIVE, before I lose this feeling.
Okay, I want to admit something that you’ll find funny. Nearly every time I wrote to you or responded to your emails, I would actually finish without thought or pretense by saying, “I love you Bobby, – B”. I’d read back the message (’cause they were all good reading, actually, right?), but when I got to the that ending, of course, I’d quick hit the back-space bar. It was such an adolescent reaction on my part. Didn’t want to come across too “touchy-feely”, I guess.
I know you knew this, of course. But I can assure you that immediately after this, I’m going to comb through everything we said to each other, because I’ll feel so much better if I actually let it slip, just one time.
I’m sad that we’re not going to talk again, at least in this physical reality. If we can talk in some way, any way, you know I’m game! I’m not afraid of ghosts or nothin’, and you know that. Of course I don’t want you to challenge me on this fearlessness, unless it leads to a good laugh on your part! And maybe if I could make a request or two: please check into some of my theories that we’ve talked about, could you?
I imagine you are where you are, an eternal present. You’re the sum of all that Bobby is and ever was: all aware, all joyful, all as sweet and happy as you ever were and we ever experienced. I’m also kind of imagining there’s some part of me there with you, and some part of all the special people in your life. Physical reality might make us think that this existence is the center of everything, but I am starting to imagine that it’s not just YOU that’s in some other state of existence, that I am there with you (and everyone you know, as well), and perhaps we feel the greatest empathy of all, at this moment, for the “physical me” and the “physical Kurt” and everyone else who’s in such pain right now here where I’m writing from…
It really is “physical”… “pain” that is, isn’t it? I don’t think your ribs hurt now, obviously, but to go a little further, you’re not sad now, either, or anxious or tired. You’re not frustrated, and while it seemed you couldn’t have a mean thought in that sweet body or yours, if anything like that did exist, I am certain it will become dust in the purely physical world.
You know, I want to say that I am so glad that we started video chatting in the past couple weeks. It was so amazing to hear your voice and see you. It was great to pop in on each other every now and then and talk til we were too tired. Man, I am so glad I got to tell you my slap-stick, wacky “Japanese game show” version of my small bowel obstruction hospital saga. You laughed so hard. That was really fun.
That was Monday maybe? Gosh, I can’t believe this, Bobby. I really can’t.
Okay, One last little confession. Years ago, when you were living in Fishtown, I actually saw you at the grocery store. I knew it was you, because you were dressed in the same clothes as your Myspace photo at the time, and you had on an Urban Outfitters shirt (…which I figure only an Urban Outfitters employee would be caught dead in, right?) You were looking in the meat section. Pretty sure you were in front of the steak options, because I was on the other side of an island filled with hams.
When I looked over and realized it was you, I froze up. I wasn’t afraid of contact with you because of cepacia or anything. I was kinda clueless about that stuff at the time. I really just wanted to meet you under more special circumstances than the meat section at the Thriftway (my god, there’s puns flying around like crazy here). As the years went by and I was made aware of the dangers we faced by physical contact, I became scared that you’d think I thought you were “dirty” or something, and nothing could have been farther from the truth.
I’ve imagined it a million times, how it probably should have gone… I say “Bobby?” And you turn around, as nice and open and honest as I’ve since known you to be. But maybe you’re thinking, WHO’S THIS???? And I say, “It’s me, Brian McTear!” Then we talk across the ham island for as long as we can before our groceries go bad.
The ham island… It was right there! It was THE MEET SECTION! … What a cosmic joke! A perfect 5 or 6 foot buffer, plenty of space to say hi, but not give each other our germs. And of course we’d agree that neither you would buy a ham for several days, nor would I buy steak! I can’t believe it’s only becoming clear right now…
Well, none of this is to say that we didn’t have an amazing relationship, even if the most of it was in the last eight months of your life. It really was one of the most important things in my whole life, and I know you felt the same. Now, I hope it keeps going somewhere in some other plane. I trust it does. We’ll never talk again here, Bobby, but I really believe that freed up from the line of time-space, you and me are just fine. We’re ALL just fine.
I do love you, Bobby. Thank you so much for such a wonderful friendship.
B