This could have been a letter I wrote to the friend I was thinking about this morning after my husband dropped the kids off at school: Nate. He came to mind, I don't know why, but I felt I had so much to tell him. He died of a drug overdose, alone in a motel room, fifteen years ago. I never got to say goodbye.
Also, your final paragraph connected with a thought that popped into my head after I finished my morning journaling: "It's the little lights that keep the human spirit alive."
Thank you for giving us one of those little lights today.
This really hits home with me, both in my mind and possibly in the minds of old friends I've recently reconnected with.
After I published my book in January, I made an effort to reach out to four longtime friends who have "cameo appearances" in it. (Unfortunately, I found out one of them passed on New Year's Eve 2024, sigh.) I did speak with one of them, but the other two have only resulted in a few texts.
Even before my book-related efforts to reconnect, I have increasingly noticed that some people simply don't prefer to speak to one another on an actual phone. Or perhaps that after being out of touch for so long, there is nothing left to say after we complete the "so whaddaya been doing for the last 40 years" exchanges.
Thanks to your essay, maybe I'll make another effort to schedule a phone call. Unsure about GP, though. We were very close friends, but he ghosted me (before "ghosting" was a thing) because of something my husband said to him. At least I think so...I never really knew why.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) is the first thing that came to mind reading this, Paul. I think there are some people whose hearts we’re carrying in ours, and I think people can feel that. I hope you aren’t beating yourself up for not calling. And I hope when you’re up to it, you play something fantastic on that guitar for him. Sending you a lot of love. Might have to install a rotary phone.
I love this piece — and I read it like it was meant for me specifically — all frail humans like to be thought of by the people they have had relationships with.
Beautiful, Paul. I have a similar refrain going in my head. My friends are with me all the time, but most of them don’t know that.
Always, right? <3
This is how we lose people. At last someone has captured it in words that seem to come from inside my head.
Paul,
This could have been a letter I wrote to the friend I was thinking about this morning after my husband dropped the kids off at school: Nate. He came to mind, I don't know why, but I felt I had so much to tell him. He died of a drug overdose, alone in a motel room, fifteen years ago. I never got to say goodbye.
Also, your final paragraph connected with a thought that popped into my head after I finished my morning journaling: "It's the little lights that keep the human spirit alive."
Thank you for giving us one of those little lights today.
I hope my best friend reads this, and my mother and my daughter too, because It so perfectly captures what I am never quite able to put into words.
"Some dark hole I’ve gone down, trying to find the light, or at least where the light leaks in." Nicely put.
This really hits home with me, both in my mind and possibly in the minds of old friends I've recently reconnected with.
After I published my book in January, I made an effort to reach out to four longtime friends who have "cameo appearances" in it. (Unfortunately, I found out one of them passed on New Year's Eve 2024, sigh.) I did speak with one of them, but the other two have only resulted in a few texts.
Even before my book-related efforts to reconnect, I have increasingly noticed that some people simply don't prefer to speak to one another on an actual phone. Or perhaps that after being out of touch for so long, there is nothing left to say after we complete the "so whaddaya been doing for the last 40 years" exchanges.
Thanks to your essay, maybe I'll make another effort to schedule a phone call. Unsure about GP, though. We were very close friends, but he ghosted me (before "ghosting" was a thing) because of something my husband said to him. At least I think so...I never really knew why.
Lovely, Paul.
i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) is the first thing that came to mind reading this, Paul. I think there are some people whose hearts we’re carrying in ours, and I think people can feel that. I hope you aren’t beating yourself up for not calling. And I hope when you’re up to it, you play something fantastic on that guitar for him. Sending you a lot of love. Might have to install a rotary phone.
Affectingly said - and, haven't we all. Here's to warm weather and longer light soon.
Thanks for the reminder. ☺️
I have one of those phones and it will be the phone I take your call on. 🙂
Well, that strongly resonates!
Just beautiful.
I love this piece — and I read it like it was meant for me specifically — all frail humans like to be thought of by the people they have had relationships with.
I know I only pop up to say this but, this is brilliant stuff, Paul. I hope to become half as good a writer as you one day.