Robert and Guy have kept me company under the pretense of helping me sort out what’s left of the person I love and who’s now gone and can’t come back. Name It. Name The Dead. The hardest part is living. I am not allowed to grieve forever, but it might be decreed that I live on for a time approaching that. Here, facing his music. Some obscure Requiem or Dido’s Lament, which he wanted to be played at his funeral.
Yes, I will remember you, and no, I won’t remember your fate.
Robert’s in black and Guy in gray. They tiptoe around the house, keep their hands in their pockets, look like they need more sympathy than me. Robert has probably tiptoed all the way to a pizza hut to get food and Guy has finally shown his hands and put some light music on. He said, “Our blood flow to the brain will increase – music helps that.”
Oh great! We’ll all live sane and longer…