Weighty Days

It’s an odd day, today, little sweetheart. It’s a date always sticks in my mind. 

February 12th. It was the day, 12 years ago, when I came out to San Francisco for what I couldn’t know at the time would be the last of our days together. We had many more plans, including your returning here to New York for my birthday in April - to do a workshop of one of my plays, to go into the studio to record more of the Flag Day EP and for an overnight trip to Philly to see Low in concert.

My mom used to get me a desk calendar every Christmas, the kind where you pull off the page from yesterday every morning to see the new day’s image and date. As often, my flight to SF was very early before dawn that day but I did turn the calendar’s page so that it read February 12. It never had another page turned. When I returned on April 4 after your tragic passing, it still read Feb 12. And it has to this day. For years it was here in the front room on the bookshelf and later out in the red table room on the dresser. I never threw it away but I apparently put it away somewhere last year and don’t immediately know its whereabouts. It’s an incredibly sad reminder, so I suppose it’s for the best that I don’t actually have it my immediate field of vision.

That morning was begun with such excitement and promise. I was on my way to see you! A screening of the short film we’d made - an adaptation I’d written of one of my own one act plays - was scheduled for the next day and then I was going with you down to San Jose to see you in “On The Waterfront”. I stayed on to work on another project with you that came together during my visit and changed my flight back to April 4, the weekend after it finished, but we never got that far.

These days now leading up to the dark anniversary of your accident and tragic passing are coming on, as they do each year. I can feel their weightiness. And I will bow my head in prayer and quiet contemplation with faith that we will endure and you and I will be together again soon and forever. 

With all my love.