I don't know why but today I thought of you.
You know your parents sent me an email.
I wanted to reply to them, but it hurts to think about what to say.
They are reaching out to me.
I should reach out back.
In time.
One of these days, Rob, I will have to visit your grave.
And I will lay red roses on your tomb.
And usher you a line from Percy Bysshe Shelley's "A Lament"
You think I would forget?
In our many conversations, we sat in the Blue Room by Brooks Hall.
I had a mug of coffee and you had tea.
We exchanged poetic verses.
You introduced me to the romanticism of Shelley as I introduced you to the cynicism of Whitman.
ha ha ha.
Sometimes I forget the specifics of our conversations, Robert.
We would change tangent in the heat of debate and conversation.
I guess I will never really get over your death.
Your death was too soon. Untimely. Unprepared. You caught me off guards.
You left a mental imprint in my mind, Rob.
I will forever be affected by your death.
For one minute, one hour, one day you were there.
Then the next. No more.
There are some times, my dear friend, that I would sit in my chair.
With my glass of Tempranillo. Aged 6 years.
With Sade playing.
And in some odd way expect you to come knocking and somehow start another conversation.
You know. Those many unfinished conversations we had. Put on hold.
I guess. The will be on hold forever.
I miss you my friend. I am still mourning you.
It comes and goes.
"On whose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I had stood before;
When will return the glory of your prime?
No more -- oh, never more!
Out of the day and night
A joy has taken flight;
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar,
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
No more -- oh, never more!"
-P.B. Shelley
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