Nine years ago this Christmas Eve my friend Pete was burried at a small cemetary by the roadside just outside of Metter, Georgia. I payed a visit just the other day. It's my custom to leave yellow roses for him as they were a favorite of his to give to me. Yellow roses are a symbol of friendship and to this day I don't see one that I don't think of Pete. The image on his headstone was taken from an identical photograph that coincidentally sits on my dresser. He's smiling a bit more in the image etched in the stone, but it's likeness is eery. I stumble over my words even now as I'm not sure how to commit them when speaking of my friend. I find it's far easier for people to recall the positive attributes and characteristics of an acquaintance, friend or loved one once they are gone. But that was never the case with Pete. I think we all knew just how wonderful he was when he was here. It was however unfortunate that some of his friends were idiots and didn't recognize the value he placed on THEM. But I don't recall anyone not knowing that he was a tremendous and very special person. There was something in his very nature that made you feel warm in his presence. So many times it's possible for one to feel alone in the midst of company, that was never the case with him. I always felt as if I was next to someone who thought that I was wonderful, special. That was his magic...
It seems vain to attempt this, putting my sorrow into words. There's not even the slightest possibility that I'll accomplish it. There's no way to describe how hollow I feel when I catch myself staring at his photograph. I feel rediculous when I try to explain Pete to people who didn't know him. As much as I pride myself on my verbal ability I am stifled when I think of my friend. More often the tears flow rather than the words. There's nothing to say that hasn't been said. There's no pain or loss to feel that's new. It's all so very old to me. And as I get older the pain ages right along with me. I've learned finally that it's alright to cling to it, to grab onto missing him. I tried once to forget and found it brought me only guilt rather than peace. I'm content to miss him for the rest of my life. And there is some comfort in knowing that "time wounds all heals".
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