2 Years This January 18

2 Years this January 18.

Tomorrow is the one-year anniversary of the call, today is the one-year anniversary of your death. It was unexpected and jagged and cracked and all the kings horses and all the kings men tried, but couldn’t put you back-together-again.

Music is the memory of the dead. Children sit by a campfire along the banks of the Deleware singing to guitar, grow up to sing “Alejandro” and dance along the banks of my backyard the night before my wedding.

You straightening your tie. Me serenading my new husband. You taking a picture with your new iPhone, “Can I take picture of you?” my husband offers. These are the final fractured memories of a final resting place.

There is a certain Randy Newman song I think of now and then and I’m reminded of you, “I think It’s Going to Rain Today,”

Broken windows and empty hallways

A pale dead moon in the sky streaked with gray

Human kindness is overflowing

And I think it's going to rain today

Scarecrows dressed in the latest styles

With frozen smiles to chase love away

Human kindness is overflowing

And I think it's going to rain today

Of course I think the Streisand version is the best.

“He was the best of all the kids,” my mom consoled your mother, and she was right. You were the best. So kind, so generous of spirit, so always capable and willing and able to see the best in everyone. Never wanting to get involved in a conflict or a fight, not because you were afraid, but because you genuinely didn’t want to hurt anyone involved in the conflict. So, much more concerned with doing right.

So, how did everything go so wrong? Why this handful of stones to fill the emptiness? R.I.P. A.W.