Monday, November 19, 2007

A Presence of Absence

He died. No longer here, he is. Gone, passed on. Passed on to where and how - with salt? Strange how he is more here than he was before. In my thoughts, he is here. I can see him, off to the side, every detail of him, no effort there. Last week, when he was here, he was not. Not with me. With me, he is here now, but only since not being here. Reminding me of those times when he was. If he is elsewhere, what is it like over there? That's one destination I'd be curious to hear of - what could be more exotic? But he can't tell me much about it. There's no post office nearby.

He no longer cared to be here. And that's one thing you have to care about. Everyone says it's a tragedy but is it really? If he overstayed his own welcome, that's for him to know. There are only enough distractions. A tragedy is waking up every afternoon to a life gone irreparably sour and having to lick it for the next. It's sad he didn't like it here anymore though. But I can't blame him, I just find it sad.

But still, he is here now. You can't touch him. But you can dream of him. And you can play those scenes with him in it, now the main character - yes, you've been demoted - you're no longer the lead, he is. But still, you don't mind. You wouldn't have it any other way. Every time you play his tape, he's the one you're watching and living vicariously through, for you can now live it through him, identifying with his human-all-too-human hymn.

5 comments:

LiteraryMinded said...

Hi! Thought I sent you an email the other day. Would still love to contribute. How is Greenbeards coming along?
angelina_gia(at)hotmail(dot)com
Angela

Indeterminacy said...

I hope all is well - I was concerned that what you posted stand in relation to real, tragic event. More worried when you missed your Monday comments at limilines. It's very poignant, what you posted here.

Banno said...

Why does it make me think this is about my father?

observer said...

This really touched me. Thank you.

ann marie said...

This touched me too, you know. It is not (only) that it is beautifully written, but true in a non-philosophical way: true in the manner of saying and true in the way of what is being said; they go hand in hand.

I just noticed after giving my blog leave that you'd favorited mine and found yours after the fact. So now, I am a reader - just a reader. My blog is just on my desktop, hibernating. Like Celan says, "Count up the almonds (...) count me in". It is a solace to read this, for someone who has lost, too, and maybe found something else in the wind.