Monday, April 18, 2011

A transmission on the midnight radio.

My friend Danny died seven years ago this past Saturday. It's ten years since I saw him last, the day my Grandma died. It seems like all I post about is death and loss, but it's how I've marked time since I was a kid. Good moments aren't traumatic and are therefore harder to hold onto.

I send Danny's ma a card twice a year -one for his birthday and one for the day he died- but it never seems like enough. Still, I think those little messages are more than the rest of Danny's friends can manage. I would hate for her to feel like she's alone on those days. I know it would mean a lot to me to have someone I lost remembered by someone else. A parent never forgets; it's part of the job. to be remembered (and still loved) by a friend is testament to what a remarkable man he was. And he was unforgettable.

I'm on the train to work and I can't write what I want without crying in front of strangers, so I'll end this here.

I miss you, Danny.