Fate or luck (or shitty vodka, trauma and volleyball) brought me and D together. She is my family, my judge free zone, my instinct and ultimately a piece of me. A really funny, pretty piece of me. Early in our friendship, I wrote the piece below, "Carlos" inspired by her brother. I have always told her that if I were to write it again it would be different because I know her so much better now.
I have tried to write this piece over. A few times. Yes, I have found better imagery and sure line breaks could be moved. But essentially I have found that my instinct towards Carlos has changed as I have come to know the people who love him in a very close way. I want to celebrate him. I want to honor him and I want to write something that his sister wants to read.
Grief, the platform of the piece below was an easy thing to capture. It is raw and intangible but I could see it. I never met Carlos, but I'd like to think I know his spirit. I'd also like to think I'd call him my brother, as D does mine. This is all a very long way of saying that someday, I will find the words for him, and for D. Until then, here is an old piece that brings me a lot of reflection on time, dates, a really great friend and Carlos. Feliz cumpleanos Carlos!
Carlos
There was once another member of
this family, saysthe empty placemat at the dinner table; he was loved
too says the fridge with his old report cards and dreams
on it. He was the oldest child says the dusted baby picture
in the front entrance. This was not supposed to happen
says his college acceptance letters, untouched on his desk.
His mother doesn’t believe he’s
gone sometimes, says the
slug trail tear stains on her face.
His sister would take his place
says the wish she makes
blowing out birthday candles every
year.
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